of the world, many of them offering ghoulish suggestions on how to deal with reanimated corpses. Some were even predict thing that this was the first sign of the apocalypse.
Thank God, the paper had printed that the body had been cremated. He did not even want to think about the hysteria
he'd have to deal with if people knew that not only was
John Engstrom's body still extant--but was still walking. Or would be walking if it wasn't strapped down.
Clan had called for help from the coroner in Salt Lake City, from the coroner in Las Vegas, from Dave French, a friend of his who taught pathology at the university here in Cedar City, but no one had been able to offer any advice. They were just as stymied as he was; only he had o actually make a decision and take some action. Finally, out of desperation, he had contacted the FBI and the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. The FBI's medical personnel were probably more used to dealing with bizarre deaths than anyone on the planet. And while he had doubts that any diseases were at work here, the CDC was sending someone out anyway. It couldn't hurt to have more than one opinion.
Clan moved away from the autopsy table and busied himself making sure all of the necessary surgical implements were on hand and in place. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, he dreaded coming into this room.
Familiarity had not bred complacency, and after a week of this he was more frightened of the corpse than he had been at the beginning. He kept the radio permanently on, tuned to a country station, because if there were no other noises here, he would hear the sounds of Engstrom's legs: the subtly creaking strain of the straps, the arrhythmic tick of shifting muscles against the metal tabletop.
The lights remained on, too. He'd had more than one nightmare this week of returning to work, opening the exam room door, and flipping on the lights to find the body gone. Or standing right in front of him, freed of restraints, hands outstretched and ready to kill.
Both the CDC doctor and the FBI agent were supposed to have been here five minutes ago. Clan was about to leave and wait in the outer office, unable to find more busywork and unwilling to remain in the same room with that twitch thing cadaver any longer, when the swinging doors to the exam door opened and two men wearing scrubs and surgical masks came walking in.
'Dr. Dyson, I presume?'
Clan nodded, not sure which man was speaking.
'I'm
Dr. Hovarth from the CDC.' The shorter man in
I front nodded as he approached the autopsy table. is this Dr. Brigham from the Bureau.'
Clan exhaled as an almost physical wave of relief washed over him. He had not realized how much the pressure had been weighing on him. This opportunity to pass the buck and hand over his authority made him feel much lighter.
The three men shook hands, and Clan gave them a quick rundown of what had happened. They'd both read the reports and documents he'd faxed to them, and he skimmed over that portion of the story, but he went into detail about the past week here in the coroner's office, the minor tests he'd performed, the stubborn consistency of the so far unexplained reanimation.
Hovarth wanted to start on the autopsy immediately, and i, Clan deferred to his judgment. He had been reluctant to cut because the corpse..' still seemed like it was alive.
That was the truth. Even surgeons operated on people who were unmoving, under anesthesia, and he himself had never even cut into a live body before. The prospect of opening the chest of a dead man whose legs were still moving made him extremely queasy. 'I'll lead,'
Hovarth said. Brigham nodded. I'll assist.'
That meant that Clan would only be backup and proba i bly wouldn't have to cut at all, just observe. For that he was grateful.
They washed up, put on gloves, turned on the video cameras and tape recorders. Hovarth moved the instrument tray next to the table and began a running commentary as he first
measured the body, carefully examined its exterior, then picked up a scalpel. The muscle movement did not seem to faze him, and he did not even hesitate as he made the first incision and inserted a catheter.
Clan stood next to the CDC doctor, saying nothing, hearing the muffled thump of blood in his head, feeling the discomfort of sweaty palms against latex gloves.
The blood was drained, but there was no discernible change in the movement of the corpse's legs. Beneath the straps, the muscles still strained in alternating order: left foot, right foot, left foot, right.
When the chest had been opened and Hovarth began removing organs, weighing them and bagging them, those restless limb muscles mindlessly continued to exert themselves. The sight caused chills to surf down Dan's arms. It was the most unnatural thing he had ever seen, and even in this lighted room, surrounded by state of-the- art medical equipment and two other doctors, he was frightened.
'We're going to amputate the legs,' Hovarth said finally, after the cranium had been opened, and the brain tagged and bagged. The body was little more than an exposed empty husk, but still the legs worked.
They had a quick discussion as to what would be done with the limbs, who would get to study them. As per procedure, samples of the organs would be taken by both Hovarth and Brigham while the organs themselves would remain frozen in the custody of the coroner's office until such time as all three agencies agreed on disposal, but the legs were different, and Clan quickly made it clear that he thought the best idea would be for the CDC to take one for examination and for the FBI to take the other. After a short back and-forth, Hovarth and Brigham agreed, and Clan found in the supply closet two plastic airtight receptacles big enough to hold Engstrom's legs from femur to phalanges.
Here, finally, the other two doctors exhibited some trepidation.
Hovarth's hand as he installed a new blade on the ' roto-saw was not quite as steady as it should have been, and as Brigham examined the legs and drew cut lines on the tensing skin, he looked uneasy.
Amp rag left leg at groin,' Hovarth said into the recorder before starting up the whining saw and drowning out all hope of hearing anything else.
The saw sliced through skin and flesh, muscle and bone. Clan haft expected to hear screaming, to see Engstrom start thrashing around beneath the restraints, or to perhaps break the restraints like Frankenstein and lurch to his feet, but nothing like that happened, and the unwired jaw and un sewn eyes both remained open and dead.
The left leg was severed, Hovarth trimming off the last of the bottom skin.
The leg was still moving.
It was the freakiest thing he'd ever seen, and Dan's first impulse was to cut the amputated limb up into little pieces or burn it in the incinerator. But in his mind he saw little cut-up leg pieces moving independently of each other, still informed by some strange sentience, saw a charred bit of bone wiggling amid ashes.
Unattached to a body, the leg slid out from under its restraints and fell to the floor, where it lay on its side, bending and unbending at the knee, moving itself in a circle on the linoleum as it vainly attempted to walk.
It was his responsibility to place the leg in the receptacle but it took all three of them to subdue the limb, pick it up, and finally lock it in the plastic box. Clan placed the container in the freezer along with the other organs. The leg was still kicking against the side of the plastic, and he hoped to God that freezing would at least slow it down, if not stop it entirely.
He walked back to the autopsy table.
Then they did it all over again.
It was nearly three o'clock, six hours after Hovarth and Brigham had first arrived, that everything was finished, the table scrubbed down, the camera and recorders turned off. Dupes were made of the video and audio cassettes as the three of them retired to Dan's office, had a drink, exchanged paperwork, and discussed the autopsy. Hovarth admitted that he had never seen anything like this before and that he was at a loss as to how to explain the postmortem activity. It was the repetitive nature of the animation, the fact that it was so focused and
