Cemetery Club (18 page)

At six o’clock she and Pat McBride grabbed takeout from the diner. She’d thought about inviting Cory but decided not to bother. After all, it wasn’t like she had time to sit and chat. Instead, she’d left a quick message on his voice mail, telling him she’d call when she got off work to let him know if he should open a bottle of wine or just have her pajamas waiting for her.

By the time the night was closing in on eleven o’clock the gas station samples were almost finished. Once they were done she could pass the results on to the police and head home. Tomorrow was an off day, followed by two weeks straight of day shifts - almost a vacation in itself, unless there was mandatory overtime. Which seemed likely given the current circumstances.

Marisol downed the rest of her coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. As she opened the door to the DNA lab, the STR began beeping, announcing the first batches were ready.

One by one the reports emerged from the printer, each detailing a DNA profile. Marisol reviewed them as they came out, to ensure there’d been no contamination. Once they’d all printed, she laid them out on the table and analyzed them in more detail.

As she’d expected, some of the samples matched the gas station’s owner and his daughter, based on hair the family had provided for comparison. Marisol shook her head as she set the papers aside, thinking about the bad news that poor family was going to receive.

The remaining samples represented three different individuals, which she assumed were the passengers of the car at the pumps. Although she expected no hits, Marisol followed standard procedure and ran the results through the FBI’s Combined DNA Index System, commonly referred to as CODIS, and the New York State DNA Databank. The system contained not only the DNA profiles of known criminals but also missing persons, law enforcement officials and previous victims of crimes.

Marisol considered getting another coffee. With more than five million profiles to review, it could take several hours for the search to finish. She was halfway across the lab when the computer beeped.

Sudden dread blossomed in Marisol’s guts and she had no idea why. The odds were that one of passengers had a criminal record.

So why did she have the feeling she was about to receive bad news?

With a pounding heart and a dry mouth, Marisol approached the computer. When she saw the name and picture displayed on the screen, her premonitory fear quickly became a reality.

Manuel Salvo, age 32.

Last known residence: Rocky Point, New York.

Occupation: Police Officer, Rockland County Sheriff’s Department.

“Holy shit.” In the empty room, her voice seemed unnaturally loud; the sound of it actually made her jump and set her heart beating even faster.

The name was instantly familiar. You couldn’t work in the county offices and not know the name of a missing police officer.

How could Manny’s DNA be at the scene?
Scenarios flashed through Marisol’s head. Had he been the victim of a crime, possibly locked in the trunk of the car when it caught fire? If not, why had he been there after being missing for days?

Realizing the sensitive nature of the information, she decided to call Dr. Corish.
Let ME bring this one to Chief Travers.
He answered on the third ring, his voice groggy with sleep.

“Ed? It’s Marisol Flores. Sorry to wake you but I just got the results of the DNA tests, and...well, you’re going to want to talk to the Chief personally. I’m going to fax them over to you right now.”

After sending the fax, Marisol waited next to the phone, knowing Corish would be calling back momentarily. Even so, she jumped a little when it rang.

“Marisol?” The ME was wide awake now but sounded as confused as she felt. “You were right to call me. Chief Travers and I will be there in fifteen minutes.”

“All right.” She hung up the phone and gathered the printouts and CODIS report. The system was still searching for matches against the remaining two samples, so she decided to wait until the last minute before heading upstairs, in case more information came up.

Movement outside the lab caught her eye and she turned to see Jake Spencer, one of the night shift techs, waving at her through the window of the door. She signaled for him to come in.

“What’s up Jake?”

The skinny tech, only a few years out of college, shrugged. “Not much. I was heading to the break room. Saw you sitting there and figured I’d ask if you want a cup of coffee.”

“Thanks, but I—” Marisol stopped at the sound of breaking glass down the hall. A moment later, someone screamed.

“What the hell was that?” Jake asked. Eyes wide, he turned and looked down the hall.

“I don’t know.” Marisol moved towards the door as Jake stepped into the hallway.

“I don’t see - holy shit!”

He jerked backwards, one foot crunching down on her toes as he tried to push back into the lab. Marisol caught a quick glimpse of movement, but those few seconds were more than enough for her to understand Jake’s sudden fear.

Two men, maybe more, their flesh bluish-gray under the harsh hallway lighting. Torn clothes covered in blood. And their faces...horrible masks, like something from the monster movies she loved to watch on Saturday mornings as a kid.

The worst part was that she recognized them. Not the men themselves but what they’d become. She’d seen their kind before, back in high school.

Under the cemetery.

“Hide!” she shouted to Jake, who was staring glassy-eyed at the doors. She ran past him and looked around, wanting to heed her own advice to find safety, but the small room offered no escape. There was only the one set of doors and the closest thing to a hiding place was in the foot space under her lab station.

Before she could slide the lab stool out and cram herself into the cubbyhole the doors burst open and three figures stormed into room. They paused just inside the doors, looking back and forth. In that instant Marisol was reminded of the scene in Jurassic Park, when the two raptors had the children trapped in the kitchen. Then she got a good look at their faces and a new word jumped into her brain.

Zombies.

There was no mistaking the three men for anything else. She’d seen too many corpses not to recognize the pallor of dead flesh. And if that wasn’t enough, two of them showed signs of advanced decay, with skin hanging in flaps from their foreheads and cheeks, exposing bloodless muscle and connective tissue. Their eyes were evil orbs, the normally white sclera a puss-yellow color with patches of red where capillaries had burst.

Todd and John were both wrong,
she thought.
They’re not aliens and they’re not demons. They’re monsters, just like in the movies.

Jake’s temporary paralysis broke; he jumped to one side and tried to dodge around the three creatures. Two of them tackled him before he got anywhere close to the door, their lifeless bodies moving faster than Marisol thought possible. Jake screamed and flailed his arms but the two zombies pinned him to the ground and held him there, their mouths open in unnatural grins that dripped fresh blood.

The third creature moved towards Marisol, its face totally devoid of any human expression.

“No,” she whispered as she retreated. She managed to take four or five steps before her back hit the lab wall. As the zombie came down the narrow aisle, her only choices were to dodge left or right. She forced herself to wait until the last second, knowing that if she moved too soon the monster wouldn’t be fooled.

When the zombie was four feet away, its fetid stench filling the air around her and its face so close she could see bits of flesh stuck between its teeth, she made her decision. A quick fake to the right and then she dodged left, the way she’d seen football players do on TV.

The monster fell for it, committing itself in the wrong direction. She grabbed the corner of the lab bench to keep her balance as she turned and sped down the next aisle, sprinting for the door. Something crashed and broke behind her but she kept her eyes straight ahead, focused on her one chance for escape.

I’m going to make it! Thank God, I’m going to—

A cold hand grabbed her by the neck and slammed her sideways into a bench. Pain exploded in her ribs, her feet tangled and she fell to the floor. Her elbow struck the hard tile, sending another wave of agony up her arm. She tried to push herself up with her one good hand but she’d only gotten to her knees when the zombie twisted her around and forced her down onto her back. It knelt on her, its knees digging painfully into her thighs and its hands pinning her wrists to the cold floor.

Fiery malevolence glittered in its eyes as it leered over her, its smell so vile she felt her dinner threatening to erupt from her stomach. Bloodstained drool hung from the creature’s mouth in long, slimy strands, adding to her panic as she wondered if whatever had infected the thing might transfer to her through its saliva.

Or its bite,
she thought, as a piece of its last victim fell from its teeth and landed on her chest. Her bladder released at the idea of being eaten alive or turned into some kind of undead thing for all eternity.

Then something moved behind the zombie, came into her field of vision and being eaten alive by a monster suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

Oh, lord. John was right after all.

The alien stood about three feet tall. Its slanted, almond-shaped eyes burned hellish red and its mouth was a black slit against a dark gray background. A wave of numbing cold preceded it as it approached her. The chill sank into Marisol’s bones, filling her with a dread worse than anything she’d ever known.

It motioned with one stubby hand and the zombie slid to one side, still holding her. The alien moved closer and the pain in Marisol’s bones increased until she thought they might break, the way a flower would shatter after being dipped in liquid nitrogen. She tried to open her mouth to scream but couldn’t move her jaw.

She remembered the old man at the town meeting screaming about aliens taking over people.
That’s how they turn people into zombies, by possessing them somehow.

The abrupt image of being taken over by the alien was too much for Marisol. Her mind retreated from the events around her. She could still hear Jake’s screams, still feel the freezing ache in her bones, still smell the monster on top of her, but all of it seemed distant. Instead, she found herself returning to the time she’d spent so recently with Cory in her bedroom. She saw his face, smiling as he motioned for her to join him in bed. The way he’d touched her, held her, rode her and stroked her body until it exploded with pleasure again and again.

In that moment, she knew she loved him, really loved him, and a bittersweet feeling surged through her bones, a combination of joy and regret - joy for the time they’d shared, regret that it would never happen again. She closed her eyes, resigned to becoming another victim of the plague they’d let loose so many years ago. In a weird way, it seemed almost meant to be; she was partly responsible for so many deaths and now she was paying the ultimate price for them.

Time slowed down until it stopped altogether as she waited for the alien being to touch her, or enter her, or whatever it did to its prey.

Then something changed. It took Marisol a moment to understand the cold was receding, the throbbing torture in her bones lessening. She opened her eyes and saw that the alien had moved away from her, was instead heading towards Jake, who still shouted and thrashed under the weight of the other two zombies. The alien rose up in the air and floated over Jake until it hovered above his chest. It paused and then dove down faster than a cobra’s strike, its body twisting and shrinking as it poured into Jake’s open mouth and into his throat.

The technician choked and gagged, his body seizing wildly, but his spasms had no effect on the thing, which now looked like one of the used condoms she’d occasionally found in Jack’s office, her first clues to his affairs. In seconds, the gray being disappeared into Jake, who convulsed once more and then went perfectly still. The two zombies let go of him and stood up.

Marisol had time to take three rapid breaths before Jake moved again. He sat up, his eyes wide and sniffed at the air like a dog.

“Jake?” she heard herself ask in a trembling voice. The zombie holding her tightened its grip on her shoulders. Jake turned and looked at her and her relief at not being possessed by the alien shattered under his cold gaze.

The man who’d been so quick with a joke, who always had a smile on his face, who sometimes brought homemade brownies to work on Saturdays, was now a stranger. His normally pleasant expression had mutated into something filled with a dark, hungry malevolence. He stared at her for a moment and then his lips slowly curled up in a wicked smile.

He stood up and walked towards her, the other two zombies following. Cold, dead fingers dug into her arms as the monster behind her leaned forward. She could hear its teeth gnashing together as it prepared to take a bite of her flesh.

Marisol kicked her legs and arched her back, knowing even as she did so that she wasn’t strong enough to break free.

Jake knelt down and tore her lab coat and shirt away, exposing her chest and belly. He licked his lips and lowered his head towards her stomach.

His mouth opened.

The lab doors banged open. Someone shouted.

Marisol screamed as the zombie bit into her.

Edwin Corish and Nick Travers stepped out of the elevator and stopped short. Crimson splashes covered the walls of the morgue hallway, the fresh blood still dripping down and forming puddles on the floor. Broken glass and pieces of lab equipment lay scattered down the hall. Red handprints and footprints covered the floor and walls.

“What the fuck happened here?” Travers asked.

Before the Medical Examiner could answer, a woman screamed from inside one of the lab rooms.

“Stay behind me,” Travers said to the ME. He drew his gun and moved down the hall, keeping as close to one side as he could without actually touching the blood-spattered wall. He paused briefly by each door to peer through the windows before moving on to the next room. With each step, the pounding of his heart grew louder and the twisted feeling in his stomach grew stronger. The palms of his hands started sweating and he had to tighten his grip on his gun.