The Corpse Whisperer

by H. R. Boldwood

  “Biters,” I called through the door. “It’s lunch time. Which one of you should we eat first?”

  Ferris snickered.

  The door creaked open and one of the EMTs greeted us with a sigh of relief.

  While Ferris was letting them know they were good to go, I made straight for Leo. His face had blossomed from the beating he’d taken, making him look like Quasimodo, but at least he seemed more alert than when we’d left him. And his seizures had stopped.

  Could the medicine have returned him to his pre-kidnapping status? Only time would tell.

  After stopping by the 51st for a shower and a quick change (Ferris had to raid the lost and found), Ferris and I arrived at University Hospital. We entered the underground ambulance bay and took the freight elevator to the emergency room, away from the prying eyes of Jade Chen and the rest of the news hounds. No doubt, given the raid at the warehouse, they were sniffing out details like bloodhounds on a scent.

  We waited with Leo in his partitioned examination room, where he drifted in and out of consciousness. Eventually, a physician arrived. She said he had a concussion and was dehydrated, but he also needed blood work and several tests, including a CT scan to identify possible skull and facial fractures.

  When they wheeled Leo off for testing, I stepped outside and called Nonnie, wanting to hear the relief in her voice when I told her Leo was safe.

  “Oh, thank heaven. When he home, Miss Allie?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

  “He come to your house. I care for him there.”

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but involving Nonnie in Leo’s care posed a serious risk.

  “Probably not,” I said. “Leo’s a target, Nonnie. You could be in danger.”

  The tough old bird argued with me, until I finally agreed we would discuss the idea more when I came home.

  The hours in the ER passed more like days. We watched Judge Judy, reruns of Two and a Half Men, and Martha Bakes.

  Ferris yawned, then stretched out on an empty couch and took me by surprise. “You were fucking awesome out there tonight.”

  I looked up from a magazine to find Ferris staring at me, wearing an enigmatic smile.

  I nodded and returned the compliment. “You were pretty amazing yourself.”

  “So, what’s the story with you and De Palma? You two…involved?”

  I nearly choked. “No. We’re just partners. He’s dating Jade.”

  “The reporter?”

  “Go figure.”

  “Good.” The mysterious smile settled on his lips, as he closed his eyes.

  Minutes later, the doctor came back to tell us Leo had a broken nose and cheekbone.

  No wonder the healthcare system is a mess. I could have told her that before they did the testing. The fact that his nose was sideways, and his right cheek the size of a grapefruit, should have been the first clue.

  They decided to keep Leo overnight for monitoring and to give him fluids.

  Dickhead had already arranged for Leo to have a private room, number 414. Two tortuous-looking metal chairs awaited Ferris and me, outside his doorway.

  When the medical staff whisked Leo into his room and closed the door, we sat in the chairs and did our best not to nod off.

  “You don’t like my boss very much, do you?” Ferris asked, stretching his legs across the over-waxed linoleum floor.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yeah, well. Just between you and me, there’s a lot of that going around. The dude couldn’t find his ass with a roadmap.”

  Ferris was turning out to be a stand-up guy.

  “How can you work with that turd?” I asked.

  “He may be a turd, but he’s an ambitious turd. He knows how to play the game. Sooner or later, he’ll move up, out of the line of fire. Ain’t nobody going to shed a tear over that.”

  Ferris started down the hallway to find the vending area, then turned with a wink, promising to bring me some Doritos along with a Jack and water. Apparently, my reputation had preceded me.

  “That’s Coke Zero,” I said. “Not water.”

  What I really wanted to say, was just bring the Jack.

  Ferris hadn’t been gone but a couple of minutes, when the medical team came out of Leo’s room.

  Questions swarmed out of my mouth like angry bees. “How’s he doing? You know he’s contracted the Z-virus? I have his daily meds. Do you need them? Or do you have a supply on hand? When can he go home?”

  The house doctor narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t see a medical release on file. I can’t give you that information.”

  Shit. Shit. And double shit.

  “FBI,” I barked. “We need this information for ongoing critical care issues, once he’s released into our custody.”

  “Very well,” said the doctor, buying the manure I’d just shoveled. “Assuming there are no complications, he can leave in the morning. We’re going to get him hydrated and make sure he’s voiding properly.”

  Always with the voiding, these docs. You could be hemorrhaging like a stuck pig, but if you can pee and poop, you’re headed out the door.

  I called Nonnie and gave her the good news.

  “Room 414,” I said. “But how about we let him get some sleep tonight?”

  After the care team scattered in separate directions down the hallway, I went into Leo’s room and shut the door behind me. His eyes were closed, but as usual, his mouth was not.

  “Nice of you to drop by, Nighthawk. Now that you’re up to snuff on my bowel movements, how ‘bout you tell me what the hell took you so long to find me. You guys. You act like you’re doing me this big favor, keeping me alive. I’m the one doing the favor. Without my testimony, the D.A.’s got jack. The least you can do is keep me from getting the shit beat out of me.” He pushed the button on his PCA pump.

  “Actually, Nonnie led us to you,” I said, filling him in on her life-saving translation of l’ultima tappa.

  Leo smiled in spite of himself. “Mia bella, Nonnie.”

  My eyes darted to his IV. “Bet they’ve got you on some sweet pain meds.”

  Leo harrumphed, pulled up his blanket, and stared out the window.

  “Look,” I said, “I really am sorry. The truth is, it was an ugly scene busting you out of there. Six members of the tactical team died trying to rescue you. Biters got to them.”

  Leo’s eyes snapped back to me. “Biters? Where the hell did they come from?”

  “That’s what I want to know. Suppose you tell me.”

  Leo toyed with the edge of his blanket. “What do you mean?”

  “You heard me. Everywhere we turn, biters keep showing up. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing. I swear.”

  He answered a little too fast. A little too…practiced. Was he afraid of something? I debated pushing him harder, but his heavy eyelids told me the pain meds were kicking in.

  Another time.

  Rico, ready to take his watch, appeared in the doorway, along with Ferris, who handed me my Doritos and a Coke Zero.

  “How’s he doing?” Ferris asked, pulling his crappy folding chair into the room.

  “As feisty as ever. He’ll live, for now.”

  This Ferris guy impressed the hell out of me. He respected the relationship I had with Leo and didn’t try to insert himself. Good instincts.

  “So, why do you think the biters keep showing up?” Rico asked, pulling the other chair alongside Ferris and taking a seat.

  I bit my lip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep running over it in my head. The mob and biters. Everything the mob does involves money. They can’t make their own zombies, right? So, who’s supplying the biters and where are they coming from? And why?”

  Rico leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and nodded. “You’re right. If we follow the money, we’ll figure it out.”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back a yawn.
“I guess I’ll take off now. Ferris, is somebody coming to relieve you? We have to be back at Cap’s office by three-thirty.”

  “My relief should be here any minute.” He looked at his watch and sighed. “See you in…five hours.”

  I turned to say goodbye to Leo, but his eyes were closed and he was starting to snore, his mouth curved into a smile. He must have been dreaming about Nonnie’s lasagna.

  Nonnie cornered me the moment I walked in the door. I told her about the broken bones in Leo’s face, and reassured her that he’d be getting out in the morning, assuming all went well overnight.

  She seemed more concerned with his long-term prognosis. So was I.

  “His virus. Is it worse?” she asked.

  I didn’t have an answer for that. No one did. He seemed about the same, but who knew what kind of impact his having gone without meds would have down the road—or how long that road would be.

  There’d come a time when I’d have to brace her for the inevitable. But not now. Now, I needed sleep.

  “Ms. Allie, Leo stay here. I not charge extra to care for him.”

  How could I explain to her that Dickhead would never go for that—inserting a civilian into the scenario? Yet another battle to fight, with Dickhead on one side, Nonnie on the other, and me in the middle. He was exhausting. She was relentless. I didn’t have the strength to think about it. Dickhead would be at the three-thirty meeting. We could discuss Leo’s care and safety then.

  I asked Nonnie to wake me at two, crawled into my bed and crashed. The last thing I remember was Headbutt curling up next to me, and Kulu sitting on her perch, head under her wing, settling in for a nap.

  Two o’clock came and it seemed like I’d just closed my eyes. Nonnie shook my shoulder and rousted me out of bed. I stumbled into the shower and put on some fresh clothes, including my Zombies—the Organic Low-Carb Diet T-shirt.

  I downed a monster cup of coffee and called Dr. Christian, to ask whether the European biters were exhibiting the same intellectual ability as the deadheads in the warehouse.

  “Such as?” he asked.

  “Problem solving. Strategizing. That sort of thing.”

  He hesitated before answering. “No. Not intellectual behavior. Remember, Ms. Nighthawk, the dead have no ability to reason, like you or me.”

  I told him about the pack attack at the warehouse.

  “It is possible that someone could direct their actions remotely,” he said. “Say, through an ear piece or some other mechanism. But, no, I do not believe their brains are capable of strategic thinking.”

  Remote direction hadn’t even occurred to me. If that were the case, what were the chances any of the ear pieces would still be lodged in the biters’ ears, after transporting them to the morgue? I’d have to check that out after the meeting.

  Headbutt and Kulu eyed me, as I threw on my jacket and slid Dom’s confiscated phone into the pocket. The terrible twins thought they could guilt me into staying home.

  “What?” I said, through a mouthful of rugelach. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t look at me that way.”

  Nonnie walked me to the door. “Don’t forget. You bring Leo home.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, closing the screen door behind me.

  If I got a move on, I could stop at the hospital and check on Leo before the three-thirty meeting. I told myself I’d done enough running for one day and decided to go straight to the precinct.

  The brain bitch had other ideas. Damn her and that megaphone mouth of hers. Never a moment’s peace. She had me turning onto Clifton Avenue, toward University Hospital, before I realized what I was doing.

  When I reached the fourth floor, some guy was sitting in one of the chairs outside of Leo’s room. I’d never met him before and figured he must be Ferris’s relief. For some reason, Rico wasn’t sitting there with him.

  “Nighthawk,” he said, sticking out his hand, “Nice to meet you. Frank Martin.”

  Why do these guys always shake hands like it’s a dick measuring contest?

  I yanked my hand out of his death grip and glanced at Leo’s closed door. “Where’s Rico?”

  “Somebody named Jade called. Girlfriend, maybe? He’s down the hall,” Frank said, pointing past the nurse’s station.

  Damn that boomeranging biatch, anyway.

  “Why is Leo’s door closed?” I asked.

  Frank yawned and stretched out his legs. “The nurse is in there. Maybe she’s examining him.”

  I poked my head through the door and saw a nurse messing with Leo’s IV.

  “Hi, there. We haven’t met,” I said, offering her my hand. “I’m Allie. And you are?” I glanced at her scrubs. No hospital ID.

  She blushed, shamefaced. “I’m Angie. Silly badge. Always seems to be on my dirty scrubs instead of on the pair I’m wearing. If you’ll wait outside, you can visit in a minute, after I finish up.”

  She reached up toward his IV again, and the sleeve of her scrub top inched up her arm. Part of a tattoo peeked out. Just the bottom of it. Even so, it looked familiar.

  She seemed to sense that I was still there, let go of the IV bag, and turned toward me. “I’ll only be a minute. Go on, now. Wait in the hall. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”

  I stood my ground.

  She pursed her lips. “I really must insist.”

  Where had I seen that tattoo?

  “Leo,” I said, “Has Angie been in to see you today—before now?”

  “No,” he said. “Just the original nurses from when I got here.”

  He spooned some ice chips into his mouth. “Freaking hospitals. Running on skeleton crews. One nurse to like a thousand patients. Seriously. Try hitting the call button. Paint dries faster than you can get a bed pan in this place. No offense,” he said, glancing up at Angie.

  She turned to me and pointed toward the door, waiting for me to leave. Not that I gave a rat’s ass. Besides, I was still stuck on skeleton crews.

  Skeleton crews. Skeleton crews.

  “I’ve asked you nicely,” she said. “Am I going to have to call security?”

  Nurse Crab-Ass was twerking on my last nerve. Even Little Allie wanted to slap her six ways to Sunday.

  “That’s okay,” I said, retreating to the door. “I’ll be out here, Leo.”

  When I pulled the door open, she turned back to Leo.

  I let go of the door and let it close, with me still in the room.

  She reached for Leo’s IV again, this time baring a little more of the tattoo on her arm. And it came to me. Skeleton Crews.

  The tattoo was a skeleton. And not just any skeleton. It was a skeleton with a cane. I knew that image. It was the Vodoun Lord of Death, Baron Samedi.

  A light switched on in my head. The mob, zombies, the virus mutation, and now, Voodoo. I didn’t have it all put together yet, but the addition of Voodoo took this case in a familiar and terrifying direction.

  Angie pulled a syringe from the pocket of her scrubs, primed it, and went for Leo’s IV port.

  “Hey,” I yelled, diving across his bed.

  Startled, she dropped the syringe and then sidestepped.

  I sailed over Leo’s bed and did a face plant onto the floor. The syringe lay inches from my left hand.

  Angie and I both went for it. I grabbed it first and squirted whatever had been inside it across the floor. Then I jumped to my feet and whirled around.

  The last thing I saw was Leo’s bedpan crashing down on top of my head.

  24

  Nighthawk Down

  My left eye peeled open, then my right. I lay on the floor, head throbbing, stomach lurching, the empty syringe still in hand.

  The room spun like a Tilt-a-Whirl, and voices swirled overhead, Leo’s loudest of all. “Forget Nighthawk. Grab that nurse.”

  Frank’s face loomed over mine. For some reason, he slapped me. Hard.

  “Nighthawk. Wake up.”

  Never rouse an unconscious person by smacking them
in the face. It leaves them miffed.

  Rico hovered behind me, peering down.

  I grabbed Frank’s hand as he came in for a third slap. “Touch me again and you’re a dead man.”

  Rico winced. “Rookie mistake, dude.”

  Frank slowly backed away from me, as if I were an IED that might explode, and mumbled, “Just trying to help.”

  I gathered my legs beneath me and wobbled to my feet, cradling my head with one hand, pointing to the door with the other. “Then get your ass out of here and follow that fake nurse.”

  Happy to escape, Frank set out down the hallway.

  I sat on the edge of Leo’s bed and patted his leg. “You okay?”

  “Better than you,” he quipped.

  Rico picked up one of Leo’s ice packs and handed it to me. “You aren’t using this, are you, Leo?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What the hell did I miss?” Rico asked. “I was just down the hall.”

  When I finished the blow-by-blow, I handed him the empty syringe. “We need to dust it for prints, other than mine, and find out what was inside it.”

  “How’d you peg this Angie for an imposter?”

  “Just a feeling. And a tattoo on her arm.”

  Rico raised an eyebrow. “A tattoo? Of what?”

  I shrugged and shifted my gaze to the doorway. “Just a Voodoo thing I’ve seen before. When I tried to stop her, she whacked me over the head with Leo’s bedpan. It could have been worse.”

  “How so?” Leo asked.

  “It could’ve been full.”

  Jade Chen entered the room and I scowled. “Talk about full of shit.”

  Rico threw me a glare.

  “What’s going on?” Jade asked, kissing his cheek. “You scared me when you rushed off our call.”

  I stared a hole through Rico. Stupid, clueless Rico, the fish dangling on the end of Jade’s hook. “Yeah, Rico. Tell us. What is going on?”

  He couldn’t even look me in the eye. He must have been thinking about his last conversation with Jade. The one where she totally emasculated him. I know I was.