In.
Out.
In.
Out.
The dots dissolved. The nausea backed off.
Better.
A body outside the cooler. Someone had to be working.
Dr. Fereira?”
I reached for my cell phone. It wasn’t in my pocket.
Damn!
Had I dropped it? Had I forgotten it at the hotel? When had I left the hotel?
I looked at my watch. I couldn’t see the digits.
This was not working. I needed to leave. I was in no shape to help them.
Help who?
Leave where?
Where am I?
At that moment I felt more than heard movement behind me. Not a sound, more a disturbance in the air.
I whirled.
Fireworks flared in my brain. Fire shot from my groin to my throat.
Someone was standing in the doorway.
“Dr. Fereira?”
Did I speak or imagine I was speaking? The figure held something in its hands.
“Senor Diaz?”
No answer.
“Dr. Zuckerman?”
The figure remained frozen in place.
I felt my hands slip. My cheek struck the metal lip of the gurney. Breath exploded from my lungs. The floor rushed toward my face.
Blackness.
29
I HAD NEVER BEEN SO COLD IN MY LIFE.
I was lying on ice at the bottom of a deep, dark pond.
I wiggled my fingers to bring back feeling, fought to rise to the surface.
Too much resistance. Too far down.
I breathed in.
Dead fish. Algae. Things of the deep.
I spread my arms like a child doing a snow angel.
Contact.
I followed the contour with my hands.
A vertical rim with a rounded lip.
I explored the rim. Not ice. Metal, surrounding me like a coffin.
A tickle of recognition.
I took a deep breath.
The stench of death and disinfectant. But the proportions were inverted. The odor of rotting flesh had the upper hand.
Refrigerated flesh.
My heart shriveled.
Oh God!
I was lying on a gurney in the morgue cooler.
