the banister, I immediately stepped back, right onto Dr. Moody’s foot. There was already a trail of blood behind John suddenly-reanimated Doe.
“By the grace of God,” the doctor whispered as we both took another five or so steps back and the body continued to work its way up the stairs, its knees wobbling with each step. It walked like a newly born giraffe. But it didn’t look anything like one. Instead, it looked like it had wings stemming from its chest, owing to the loose skin that hung from each side. I remembered the body’s rib cage having already been removed while I was viewing it earlier, so I was surprised to find it intact now, though “intact” was not quite the word to describe the way the rib cage had sort of been stuffed back into the chest cavity. I figured John Doe must have realized it would need its ribs to stand upright, or mostly upright.
It clutched the metal bowl full of its bagged-up organs with its left hand, allowing the bowl to rest against its side. It looked like something from a horror movie, like it was nothing more than theatrics—makeup and prosthetics. But, no, this was flesh and bone and blood. Flesh and bone and blood that had been dead an hour ago. Hell, five minutes ago.
It took another wavering step and then another as my heart continued to thunder in my chest and I wondered if this was actually happening, or more specifically, how this was actually happening.
When the body reached the middle step, I heard Dr. Moody’s assistant scream. Her scream was followed by a loud thump so I figured she was out cold. I didn’t bother checking, though. All my attention was centered on the reanimated dead man who was still coming toward us. His gaze was steadily focused on mine, the whites of his eyes stark against the brown of his pupils.
“Shoot it!” Dr. Moody ordered right after I palmed the Colt .45 from where it was sitting in the holster around my waist. I didn’t pull the gun free, though. I didn’t think there was a reason to. Not yet.
“It’s already dead!” I managed as the body suddenly opened its mouth as if it were trying to speak. However, Dr. Moody had already removed its tongue during the autopsy so it wasn’t able to form a sound, let alone a word. If it was possible, its eyes went even wider.
“Shoot it anyway!” Moody bellowed, his voice incredibly loud, considering he was still standing right behind me.
“It hasn’t done anything,” I whispered back as I shook my head and stepped out of the thing’s way as it aimed for the front door of Dr. Moody’s establishment. It hobbled forward, past Moody’s assistant, and paused only momentarily at the front door before reaching for the doorknob and cranking it to the left.
“It’s trying to leave,” Moody announced.
I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what to say. And, more specifically, I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t quite recovered from the trauma of the thing coming back to life in the first place.
John Doe opened the door and stepped outside where it was bathed in darkness. As we were still in the tail-end of winter, even though it was only six in the evening, it was already dark.
Neither Dr. Moody nor I said anything as we watched the body continue forward, down the icy street before it turned to the right and disappeared into the woods, leaving a sticky trail of blood in its wake. The silence between us continued, even after another minute passed and another one after that.
But then I remembered Dr. Moody’s assistant who’d passed out. I immediately approached her and crouched down to check that she was breathing. Dr. Moody was right behind me.
“She’s breathing,” I announced as I glanced up at him. “I think the desk broke her fall, so hopefully, we aren’t dealing with any head trauma.”
“I will take care of her,” he announced, his voice trembling just as much as his hands.
I stood up and nodded but wasn’t sure what to do next. There was a part of me that wanted to ask the doctor if he’d seen what I’d just seen, just to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated the last ten minutes. But the other part of me wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up with a very stiff drink. Or eight.
“We can’t speak of this to anyone,” Dr. Moody announced suddenly,