The Turning-Blood Ties 1 Read Free

went, each tag displaying the one thing I wasn’t looking for: a name. I didn’t see any bearing the big, red “unidentified” stamp, and it seemed that my field trip would prove useless.
    I rubbed my hands across my face, stretching tired skin as I pondered my next step. Where had he gone? It was unlikely that the medical examiner would have come at night for an autopsy that could wait until morning. Even if they had identified him, they couldn’t have released the body before the police finished with it. He has to be here somewhere. But as I doubled-checked, I had to accept the fact that he was gone.
    I would have to go back upstairs and face my embarrassment much to the delight of my colleagues. I’d missed the opportunity to confront my demon, but life would go on, as it always had. With the same resolve that brought me there, I left the cooler without a backward look. Someone would make a snide comment, or even pity me no matter what I did. I’d had enough experience with criticism that I could shoot down my detractors without actually having to go through the experience of looking at what was left of John Doe’s body.

    Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )

    My hand was on the door handle when I stopped again. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the sheeted figure on the autopsy table.
    For all my bravado, I’d felt some relief upon finding John Doe’s body missing. To look or not to look. It had been an easy call with no body to see. An uneasy feeling crept over me as my initial relief fled. There was no doubt in my mind that John Doe lay beneath that sheet on the autopsy table.
    If you leave now, you’ll always wonder, a tiny voice nagged from the back of my mind. For a fraction of a second, it seemed the gnawing fear would win. I would just walk out of the morgue and forget the whole incident ever happened. But my father’s words and Dr. Fuller’s hurtful evaluation of my abilities bounced around in my brain. I didn’t want to be the failure I’d been in my father’s eyes. The failure I’d become in Dr. Fuller’s. It spurred me toward the table. I was no coward.
    Before I gave myself a chance to change my mind, I whipped the sheet completely off the cadaver.
    Every second passed in slow motion, frame by frame. The very instant I pulled the covering off the body, I saw a brightly colored sole of an athletic shoe poking from under the sheet. There wasn’t time for this to register as I ripped away the shroud, revealing hospital-issue scrubs and the face of the morgue attendant, his features frozen in terror. I didn’t scream right away, either from shock or the fact that the scene didn’t make sense. John Doe was supposed to be here, not this young man. The sight transfixed me. His neck had obviously been broken. The flesh of his throat had been torn the way it would look after a dog attack. Extreme blood loss left his dark skin ashen, though the table and most of his clothing were spotless. His eyes were open. One was missing. I saw the telephone perched on the gleaming steel counter, but it seemed miles away as I ran to it. My hands shook so badly that I could barely punch the numbers to issue a code blue. But no reassuring calm came over me when I hung up. I was still stranded, still isolated in this weird nightmare. I picked up the phone again. I was dialing the number for the night security office when something brushed my shoulder. The touch was so light I barely noticed it, but I wound up inexplicably on my back.
    The force of my landing knocked the wind out of me. Confused and frightened, I scrambled to my knees, but that was as far as I got. In the next instant, I was airborne again. Shattering glass crashed, the consequence of my impact against the cabinets. I had flown into the glass with enough momentum to break it and splinter the wooden doors. Pain ripped down my spine. The shelves collapsed and the plastic tubs within slipped