"We'll see how hard you're laughing when I turn into a zombie and eat your brain," Brooke said. She pointed back towards the morgue. "People who pop back up from the dead and look like that? Totally zombies."
The guards at the other end of the hallway were starting to get nosy.
"Stop saying they're zombies," Avery hissed.
Brooke looked around and finally noticed the guards were staring at them. She smiled and waved. "Hey there, boys!" She turned her back to them and whispered to Avery, "She's totally a zombie."
"Stop it." Avery pulled out her cellphone. "Nobody wants to hear about a zombie outbreak."
"Of course nobody wants to hear about a zombie outbreak," Brooke said. "What kind of crap logic is that? It's a freaking zombie outbreak."
Avery dialed and held the phone to her ear. "Brooke, I swear, if you do not stop saying the word 'zombie', I will smack you silly."
"Hello?" The man on the other end of the phone was Steven Russell. He's the local representative in Century City for the Council of Reapers. He handled job assignments and pretty much anything else the Council wanted him to take care of. He talked in a dry, nasally voice that always sounded worse over the phone.
"Russell, it's Avery Graves. We have a problem down at Saint Mercy's."
"So I've heard," he replied. There was a rustling of paper in the background.
"You've heard already?"
"Of course I've heard already," Russell replied, sounding mildly irritated. "Dead people aren't staying dead. Who else are you going to call about a problem like this?"
Avery looked around cautiously, making sure that the guards weren't paying any attention. "There's a possibility that we're dealing with a," she paused to whisper the next two words, "zombie outbreak."
Brooke gave her a piercing look of betrayal. "I hate you," she mouthed.
Avery pushed her away.
Russell sighed heavily. "It's not a zombie outbreak."
"It's not a zombie outbreak?" Avery repeated, sounding more than a little surprised.
"Ms. Graves," Russell said, "please stop repeating everything I say. I find it tedious."
Avery bit her tongue to keep from snapping back. "Well then, what is it?"
"Well, Ms. Graves, since I'm not actually there, I couldn't really tell you."
"But you know it's not a," Avery paused again to whisper, "zombie outbreak."
"Congratulations, you've been paying attention," Russell said. "Now listen closely to this next part because it's very important."
"Russell, I can't help but feel you're making fun of me," Avery said. "I don't think I appreciate it."
"Well, while you're trying to figure that out, I want you to look into this situation at Saint Mercy's and take care of it."
Avery glanced at Brooke who was trying to check her shoulders for bite marks. "I don't know that that's such a good idea."
"Regardless of whether or not it's a good idea, it's what's happening," Russell said.
"Russell," Avery started. "I don't think you understand our situation right now."
"Actually, I don't really care about your situation."
"We're kind of in the middle of something else," Avery said.
"I don't care if your there because your grandmother is getting a heart transplant," Russell said. "You're there and you're going to take care of this."
"Well," Avery said. "That's more than a little rude."
"Fortunately, the Council doesn't pay me based on whether or not I'm polite to grim reapers." Russell sighed again. "Ms. Graves, half this city's reapers are employed by Messor & Decessus, one of the largest grim reaping firms in this nation. But thanks to what you and your sister uncovered about members in their organization, the Council issued sanctions against the entire firm. That means anybody who earns a paycheck from Messor & Decessus is now sidelined until the Council makes its judgement. Which then means that we suddenly have an entire backlog of reapings. There's just simply nobody else available, Ms. Graves. The remaining independently contracted reapers in Century City are about to become swamped with work. This moment you experienced this morning? It was called the calm before the storm. And now the storm is here and apparently it's starting at Saint Mercy's. And since you and your sister are already there, you're going to be the ones who figure out whatever this mess is at Saint Mercy's. And please, be sure to call me when it's taken care of, because I'm sure I'll have another job for you after this one is wrapped up."
"Wow," Avery said, more than a little surprised. "The Council's moving against Messor & Decessus pretty quickly."
"Yes, it's a shock to us all when the Council decides to cut through the bureaucratic red tape and do their job," Russell said dryly. "Perhaps you should look to them as an example and do the same thing."
With that, Russell hung up.
eight
"It's us."
"It's us? What's that supposed to mean?" Brooke stopped rolling up her pants leg.
Avery stared at her phone for a second. "It means," she replied, "that in the absence of anybody else, we're the ones who are going to have to take care of this."
"Oh, no." Brooke shook her head.
"Oh, yes"
"This could be zombies."
"It's not zombies."
"It could be."
"But it's not," Avery said.
"And how do we know that?" Brooke asked.
Avery pointed to the phone. "Russell said so."
"Russell said so?"
Avery rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly. "Now I know why it was so annoying when I kept repeating everything Russell was saying."
"How does Russell know that it isn't zombies?" Brooke asked. She started pacing the width of the hallway in front of Avery.
"Honestly, I don't know how he knows," Avery admitted.
"And this is supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's not supposed to make you feel anything," Avery said. "It's just a fact."
"How is Russell supposed to know anything?" Brooke continued, waving her arms around. "He's not even here!"
"Okay, you need to seriously calm down," Avery insisted.
"And I'm in no condition to be doing anything right now other than curling up into a giant weepy ball of tears and eating chocolate!" Brooke exclaimed.
"No one's going to argue that," Avery agreed.
"Nope. This is not good." Brooke shook her head some more. "Where's everybody else? You mean to tell me there's not a single other reaper in this city that can't handle this instead of us?"
"Apparently that is exactly the case," Avery said.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"We might have screwed the pooch when we made a move against Messor & Decessus," Avery said as she started scrolling through her contacts on her phone.
"Are you serious?"
"That's what it sounds like," Avery replied. "With Messor & Decessus sidelined for however long they’re going to be sidelined for, there's not enough independent reapers in the city to pick up the slack." She found the contact she wanted and hit dial.
He picked up on the second ring. "What up?"
"Please don't answer the phone like that, Adam," Avery said. "You sound like a sixteen year old boy."
"You're calling Adam?" Brooke asked. "Why are you calling Adam?"
"If you give me five seconds you'll find out," Avery said to her.
"Is this a bad time?" Adam asked. "Maybe you want to call back later?"
"This is a good time," Avery said. "I need your help with something."
"Of course you do." Adam Harris was an unofficial grim reaper historian. He had taken it upon himself to collect as much as he could about the history and workings of the grim reapers and digitize it for future generations. Officially, the Council of Reapers called him a nuisance. Unofficially, they didn't really care one way or another what he did, as long as he didn't bother them. Which meant Adam had to go through unusual lengths to get the information he needed. On the upside, though, there wasn't anybod
y else that Avery knew who had such a wealth of grim reaping knowledge right at their fingertips.
"We've got a thing here at Saint Mercy's," Avery said. "Russell seems to think it's not a zombie outbreak and I'm curious as to why he would think that. He knows less about what's going on here than we do."
"Okay, well, I'm not an expert, but maybe you should be calling him, then?" he suggested.
"I did," Avery replied. "He wouldn't answer me. So I'm calling you." She smiled and spoke with a slight melody in her voice. "You're my answer man."
Brooke made a gagging motion.
"I'm your answer man?" Adam replied dubiously.
"Well, I come to you with a question and you always have an answer," Avery said. "If you don't like it, maybe you shouldn't be so good at your job."
"Fair point," Adam replied. She could hear his fingers dance across his keyboard. "Well, the answer to your question is pretty simple. All zombie outbreaks have to start somewhere and usually they start in the ashes of a previous outbreak. After the fiasco in Louisiana, the Council doesn't keep live samples anymore. As you recall from your certification textbooks, they burned that town to the ground. So based on that alone, there's no live sample in the country to start a new infection."
"Are we sure about that?" Avery asked.
"As sure as the Council is."
"How do we know that a live sample didn't get into the country from elsewhere?" Avery asked.
"Why are you asking that?" Brooke asked. "That's a horrible idea!"
Avery glared at her sister. "Seriously, zip it."
"You can assure your sister that it's okay," Adam replied. "Let's say, for example, some poor soul from Africa gets infected and decides to grab the next flight to New York."
"Let's say," Avery replied.
"The incubation period is shorter than an international flight," Adam finished. "The minute the plane touched down in LaGuardia, the Council would have the Alpha Reapers all over it faster than you can say Zimbabwe."
"Are you sure about that?" Avery asked.
"As sure as the Council is."
"You know, when you say that, it doesn't make me feel very confident," Avery pointed out.
"What is he saying?" Brooke asked nervously. "Is it something about zombies?"
"Well, if it helps you any," Adam replied. "I don't feel very confident when I say it. What exactly do you have over there?"
"A bad case of the dying not staying dead."
"Yeah, I can see why that could be a problem," Adam paused as he tapped away on his keyboard. "Look, give me some time. I'll poke around and see if I can't stumble across something for you."
"Stumble across something?"
"It's a method."
"It's not a method I want to hear my Answer Man engaging in," Avery said.
"That's why I usually don't tell you my methods before I have an answer," Adam replied. "One of my trade secrets."
Avery rolled her eyes. "Call me back if you find anything." She hung up.
Brooke started pacing again as she rubbed her forehead anxiously. "This is unbelievable. I do not like this at all. Not one bit. Not even a tiny bit. Bad mojo. Seriously bad mojo. Are we even getting paid for this?"
"I would assume that we're getting paid."
Brooke stopped pacing. "You assume?"
"It wasn't explicitly stated."
"So we just assume?" Brooke asked. "Assumptions don't pay the bills."
"And all of a sudden you're concerned with paying your bills?" Avery asked.
"It's not all of a sudden," Brooke replied. "I've always been concerned with that particular issue. It's always been an ongoing concern as to whether or not I'm going to get kicked out onto the street because I couldn't pay my rent."
"Well, I suppose you could always show your landlord your boobs again," Avery suggested. "What'd that buy you last time? A month?"
Brooke threw her hands up. "Oh my goodness! You're bringing that up now?"
"Seriously," Avery said, looking at her sister with a grave expression. "You're at, like, an eleven. You need to dial it back to a six at minimum. Or I will slap you."
"You keep threatening that."
"Because you have apparently scheduled a one-way ticket on the crazy train," Avery said. "So, maybe, if you'd like to get off the crazy train and join me back in Sane Land?"
Brooke pointed at her. "You know that if you run those words together it sounds like 'Insane Land.' You want me to join you in Insane Land. That's what you just said."
Avery just rolled her eyes. "You're killing me."
"Well, don't worry. Apparently nobody's staying dead around here," Brooke said, following her sister back in to the morgue. "So, you know, it's not like it's a permanent situation."
nine
Back in the morgue, Betty had calmed down to the point where she wasn't using the paper bag anymore. The color had started to return to Larry's skin and the important-looking doctor had decided that whatever this was, it was way above his pay grade and had discreetly disappeared. Avery started for the office where the dead girl was being kept.
Brooke stopped her sister with a hand on her arm. "Hey, whoa, hold up. What are you doing?"
Avery nodded at the office window. The dead sixteen year old was sitting off to the side. From where she stood, Avery could only make out the back of her head. "Looking into the situation."
"Well, maybe we should start with somebody else?" Brooke suggested. She nodded at Larry. "How 'bout Doctor Handsome over there?"
"Doctor Handsome isn't the one that came back to life."
"Exactly," Brooke pointed out. "So he'll be less likely to bite me."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah, okay,” Brooke said. “There are times when biting can be appropriate. I mean, for example, I’m not opposed to a little light nibbling during foreplay.”
“I didn’t really ask for an example.”
“That kind of biting is perfectly normal and generally accepted,” Brooke continued. “Eating my brain, that’s not normal. That’s where I’m going to draw the line.”
“Well, it’s good to know that you draw the line somewhere.” Avery just shook her head. "You're an idiot."
"Well, I'm going to be the idiot who's not turning into a zombie," Brooke pointed out and made her way over to Dr. Handsome.
The first thing Avery noticed in the small coroner's office was the smell. It was awful. She tried breathing through her mouth, but it didn't help. She could still somehow taste the rancid odor. Avery struggled to keep her expression neutral. She focused on the girl's eyes, forcing herself not to pay any attention to the rest of her broken body.
"Hi there," Avery said.
The dead girl looked at her, but didn't say anything.
"Do you know who I am?"
The dead girl waited a second before slowly nodding her head. Avery tried to ignore the flaps of skin that flipped back and forth on her.
Avery carefully folded her hands. "What's your name?" she asked.
There was another long pause and then the dead girl finally spoke, "Shannon." Her voice was coarse and painfully grating to the ears. It took an obvious effort for her to make the sounds that could be recognized as words.
"Shannon," Avery replied, not flinching at the sound of her voice. "That's a pretty name. Do you know what happened, Shannon?"
She shook her head slowly.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Another long pause. Shannon's eyes became unfocused, as though she was searching for something in her mind. "The food court. With Ben." She paused again and then shook her head. She turned her gaze to the floor.
The message was clear to Avery or clear enough that she could fill in some of the details. The poor girl had been out with friends or maybe just a boyfriend. There had most likely been some kind of accident. Five minutes with a computer and an internet connection and Avery could probably have found out what the accident was. Judging by what remained of Shannon's body, it wo
uld be something newsworthy. But for Shannon, though, her death was still a foggy haze and anything after that was going to be a lost cause.
Shannon's eyes flicked up from the floor to Avery. A look of hopeful confusion passed through them. "Ben?"
Avery didn't have answer for her.
"So," Brooke said, twirling a finger around through her ponytail. "You like to get freaky in the morgue?"
"It was all her idea," Larry snapped, pointing to Betty who still sat in the corner.
"Hey!" Betty started, jumping to her feet.
Brooke immediately stepped between them. "Okay, let's not turn this into an episode of the Jerry Springer Show."
"I wasn't the one who brought a live girl into the morgue!' Betty shouted.
"That's not my fault!" Larry shouted back. He looked at Brooke. "It's not my fault," he repeated.
Brooke held up her hands, trying to calm everybody down. "Nobody's saying that it is."
Larry pointed at Betty again, his finger jabbing through the air at her like a knife. "She is!"
Avery stepped out of the office. "How are things going out here?" she asked her sister.
"Well, apparently, the situation is a little more volatile than I thought," Brooke admitted, moving to her sister's side.
Avery looked at Larry, but before she said anything, he blurted out, "She was dead when they gave her to me! I swear!" He slumped back in his seat. "I don't think I'll ever be able to have sex again," he muttered.
"Okay," Avery said under her breath and turned to the coroner's assistant. "Where's your head at?"
Betty sat back down, trying to smooth out her sex wrinkled clothes and failing miserably. "I'm not going to lie," she said. "I'm probably going to be in a similar situation for a very long time."
"To be fair," Brooke pointed out. "You were having sex in a morgue. I mean, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later."
Avery slowly turned and gave her sister a withering glare.
"Maybe I should shut up now?" Brooke suggested. "I'll shut up now."
"Great idea," Avery agreed. She turned back to Betty. "Did you get the chance to examine the body?"
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