Chapter 30
30
LIZ
L iz awakened in absolute blackness. She shook her head in confusion, struggling to break free from visions of cruelness and death, a ghoulish nightmare that had left her shuddering violently in her bed. But she wasn’t in her bed, was she?
Where am I?
Why is it so cold?
Struck by a fit of painful coughs, she cried out, fighting to remain motionless. Everything ached. Her bones hummed and burned; her skin felt as if it had been dipped in acid. She recalled . . . an assault. Her brain seized when she hunted for details within her murky recollections.
Focus.
Robert. She’d been with Robert, and . . . Olivia? No, they’d discussed Olivia over coffee. Then David called and . . . Carl drove her home. Then?
Damn it! Why couldn’t she remember?
She clenched her fists as a new kind of pain coursed through her veins; it was almost electric. Convulsing, she gnashed her teeth together until her jaw clicked. If the throbbing in her skull didn’t cease, her eyes might pop right out of their sockets. She reached up to massage her temple, panicking as she realized that her arms were restricted.
She scratched her nails against a smooth, pliable surface. She sniffed, detecting a harsh synthetic odor. Plastic? She twisted her arm up so that she could reach an inch or two above her face, detecting a zipper. She’d seen enough crime television shows to know what she was in. A body bag.
Have I been buried alive?
“Oh, please-please-please no,” she whimpered. She parted her lips to scream, the thick vinyl smothering her mouth. Panicked, she clawed until the tops of her fingers broke through to glorious fresh air. She reached her hands through the hole and ripped herself free, as if she’d been encased in nothing more than tissue paper.
The air outside the body bag was freezing. It was dark too. She rubbed at her eyes, surprised that she could see as well as if it were daylight. As she moved through room, she could make out individual shapes, colors, and even read the sign on the door: SIGN OUT WHEN YOU LEAVE.
She held her hand out in front of her face and wiggled her fingers, individual hairs and pores jumping out at her with 3-D effect. The strawberry-colored birthmark she’d had on her wrist since birth was inexplicably gone. What stunned her more was the impossibly long flaming-red hair that spilled over her shoulders and ended at the bottoms of her breasts. How could that be?
She reached up and scratched at her neck. No injury, but lots of crust. As she pulled her hand away, she saw dried blood under her nails. She brought her fingers up to her nose and sniffed. The scent was delicious.
Delicious? Didn’t she mean disgusting?
She jumped as her hip bumped up against a solid shape. Another body bag. She extended a shaky hand out to touch it, yelping as she discovered that it was not empty. Her gaze traveled the length of the wall; a dozen other corpses lay stacked on shelves. Some of the bodies were naked on slabs, partially covered by sheer plastic sheets.
A thick wave of nausea slashed through her abdomen. She bent at the waist, retching as fiery pain burned up in her throat. Abruptly, the agony subsided.
Feeling a stab in the sensitive flesh of her arch, she lifted a foot, discovering a tag dangling from her big toe. She ripped it off and studied it.
CASE NO.:
A-6725
NAME OF DECEASED:
Elizabeth T. Miller
AGE:
28
RACE:
CAU
WEIGHT:
150
HEIGHT:
5-7
SEX:
Female
PLACE OF DEATH:
San Francisco County
I am not dead, she thought hysterically. Why am I in a morgue?
An awful possibility occurred to her, and she groped her breastbone. No stitches. They hadn’t performed an autopsy, thank God.
Liz cocked her head, hearing approaching footsteps. She crouched down behind nearest table, folding her arms over her pale, naked body as she watched a woman wearing a white lab coat enter and then flip on the light with an elbow.
Her name was Shelia Davies, according to the nameplate above her breast. Liz could hear the woman’s heart beating, feel the vibrations from the blood pumping through her veins. Thumpity-thump-thumpity-thump. And that blood—how divine it smelled! The thirst was maddening. She balled her hands into tight fists and dug them into her thighs to keep herself from crying out.
She could detect fatigue in the woman’s footsteps as she shuffled dangerously close to her hiding spot. To her relief, she paused. “Huh,” Sheila muttered, then crossed the room to examine the shredded body bag. She found the toe tag on the ground next.
“Very funny guys,” she muttered with a hand on her hip. Her tone indicated that she found it anything but. “ So unprofessional.”
Liz caught sight of Shelia’s two feet. Their tops were exposed in a pair of sensible ballet flats, juicy blue veins suspended underneath thin pink skin. She licked her lips.
What are you going to do, sink your teeth into that woman’s foot?
Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted to do. She ran her tongue over the two needle-sharp points budding from her gums. She pressed her index finger against one of the tips, jumping as it pierced her skin.
“I’m getting so sick of this,” Shelia sighed from the other side of the room. “Now, where the hell did they put the body?”
Liz licked the blood off her finger and rolled it around on her tongue. More. She needed more. Closing her eyes in ecstasy, she rolled her head back in an exultant daze, jarring the table as her skull made contact.
Shelia stiffened. “Is somebody there?”
Liz stood slowly.
Shrieking, Shelia stumbled backward and fell to the concrete floor, landing hard on her back. Candy launched from her lab coat pocket and scattered at her sides like confetti. Sugary shells crunched under her palms as she scrambled toward the door.
Thumpity-thump-thumpity-thump.
Liz’s vision zeroed in on the woman’s neck where a pulse fluttered against the soft spot under her jaw. A raised vein was there, too, taut and ripe. Enticing.
She bared her fangs.
“Please, I have a baby,” the woman begged.
Liz stepped closer.
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth Miller? That’s you, isn’t it?” Shelia thrust the tag out. “Please don’t hurt me!”
Liz cocked her head to one side. Why is she afraid that I’m going to hurt her?
Because you want to, coaxed the devilish voice inside her head . Only blood will stop the madness, the pain. You can’t control what you are.
And what is that? Liz wondered. What have I become?
You’ve known since you opened your dead eyes, haven’t you, killer?
Liz advanced on the woman. The darkness embraced her, and she welcomed it.
Yes. I am a killer.