Terminal

“I can’t buy that,” Sean said. “Every tumor is distinct antigenically, even the same kind of tumor. Oat cell cancer from one person will be different antigenically from the same type of cancer from another. In fact, if it arises as a new tumor even in the same person it will be antigenically distinct. And antigenically distinct tumors require different antibodies.”

“Maybe they use the same drug until they biopsy the tumor,” Janet suggested.

Sean looked at her with renewed respect. “That’s an idea,” he said.

Finally they rounded a corner and found themselves in front of a large insulated door. A metal sign at chest level read: Morgue. Unauthorized Entry Forbidden. Next to the door were several light switches.

“Uh oh,” Sean said. “I guess they were expecting us. That’s a rather formidable bolt action lock. And I didn’t bring my tools.”

Janet reached out and yanked on the door. It opened.

“I take that back,” Sean said. “Guess they didn’t expect us. At least not today.”

A cool breeze issued from the room and swirled about their legs. Sean flipped on the lights. For a split second there was no response. Then raw fluorescent light blinked on.

“After you,” Sean said gallantly.

“This was your idea,” Janet said. “You first.”

Sean stepped in with Janet immediately following. Several wide, concrete supporting piers blocked a view of the entire space, but it was obviously a large room. Old gurneys littered the room haphazardly. Each bore a shrouded body. The temperature, according to a gauge on the door, was forty-eight degrees.

Janet shivered. “I don’t like this.”

“This place is huge,” Sean said. “Either the architects had a low opinion of the competence of the medical staff, or they planned for a national disaster.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Janet said, hugging herself. The cold air was damp and penetrating. The smell was like a musty wet basement that had been closed for years.

Sean yanked back a sheet. “Oh, hello,” he said. The bloodied face of a partially crushed construction worker stared up at him. He was still in his work clothes. Sean covered the man and went to the next.

Despite her revulsion, Janet did the same, going in the opposite direction.

“Too bad they’re not in alphabetical order,” Sean said. “There must be fifty bodies in here. This is one scene the Miami Chamber of Commerce wouldn’t want to get up north.”

“Sean!” Janet called, since they’d moved apart. “I think your humor is tasteless.”

They worked around opposite ends of one of the concrete piers.

“Come on, Helen,” Sean called in a childlike singsong. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

“That’s especially crude,” Janet said.

TOM WIDDICOMB was filled with excited anticipation. Even his mother had decided to break her long silence to tell him how clever he’d been to follow Janet and her friend into Miami General. Tom was well acquainted with the morgue. For what he intended to do, he couldn’t have found a better place.

Approaching the insulated door, Tom pulled his gun from his pocket. Holding the pistol in his right hand, he pulled the thick door open and looked inside. Not seeing Janet or her friend, he stepped into the morgue and let the door ease closed. He couldn’t see the couple but he could hear them. He distinctly heard Janet tell the man in the white coat to shut up.

Tom grasped the brass knob of the heavy lock on the door and slowly turned it. Silently the bolt slid into the striker plate. When Tom had worked at Miami General, the lock had never been used. He doubted if a key existed. Locking it ensured that he would not be disturbed.

“You’re a smart man,” Alice whispered.

“Thank you, Mom,” Tom whispered back.

Holding the gun in both hands as he’d seen them do on TV, Tom moved forward, heading toward the nearest of the concrete piers. He could tell from Janet and her friend’s voices that they were just on the opposite side of it.

“SOME OF these people have been in here for a while,” Sean said. “It’s like they’ve been forgotten.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Janet said. “I don’t think Helen Cabot’s body is here. It would have been near the door. After all, she just died a few hours ago.”

Sean was about to agree when the lights went out. With no windows and the door heavily girdled with insulating weather stripping, it wasn’t just dark, it was absolutely black, like the vortex of a black hole.

The instant the lights went out there was an ear-piercing scream following by hysterical sobbing. At first Sean thought it was Janet, but having known where she was before the darkness enveloped him, he could tell that the crying was coming from behind the wall near the door to the hall.

So if it wasn’t Janet, Sean thought, who was it?

The agony was infectious. Even the sudden darkness wouldn’t have disturbed Sean ordinarily, but combined with the terrorized wailing, he found himself on the border of panic. What kept him from losing control was concern about Janet.