At the far corner of the city stands an official crematory. Most Americans want a Christian funeral, so after the memorial service at church, the deceased are brought here to the mortuary, where the mortician pushes them into the cremation furnace to be turned to ashes.
Most people think being a mortician isn’t a respectable job—folks who deal with the dead always seem shrouded in a creepy aura. When Kevin saw the mortician named in the Survival Guide, he actually got a scare. The guy was facing away from him but somehow, like a mind reader, called out his name: “Kevin Fisher, coming to me might not be your best idea.”
This mortician looked pretty old, but it was impossible to tell his exact age. He was tall, standing with his back to Kevin at the prep table, busy with various tools as he handled the corpse—making Kevin’s mouth go dry just watching. “H-how do you know my name?” Kevin asked, baffled.
“Of course I know you. I know Wendy, I know Julie—I know a lot of your little friends.” The mortician snipped something off the body with a big pair of pliers, then finally turned to look at Kevin. “You know, you folks are actually pretty famous around here.”
Those eyes, like they could see through anything, made Kevin’s skin crawl. Still, he forced himself to speak: “Sir, I know you know things. Can you help us? I’m not sure what you might need, but if there’s anything I can do, just say the word.”
“Help me? Ha!” The mortician laughed—not sharp or weird, but deep enough to make Kevin’s hair stand on end. “Alright, let me tell you something interesting…”
At five in the afternoon, Jack Young and Femi Foster arrived at Central Hospital. They hurried down the long hallway and found a special care ward. Pushing open the door, they saw Wendy and Julie sitting on an empty bed, seriously flipping through old photos. On the other bed lay someone wrapped up like a mummy—only the wild hair gave away his identity.
“Ladies, how’s Cool B doing?” Jack checked out the mummy—he could hear a heartbeat and breathing, and saw the energy flowing in his veins. Looks like he’s still alive.
“He’s lucky. When we got here, he wasn’t fully cooked yet. The doctors here are real pros—they’ve all got at least a decade of experience fighting Death. So Cool B’s only got moderate burns.” Julie summed up Cool B’s situation, then asked, “Did you guys find anything?”
Femi Foster shook her head. “Other than getting splattered with blood, we got nothing. That old guy’s toast, and the rest of it—you all know already.”
Suddenly, there was a loud crash of thunder outside. The wind howled, clouds churned, and the sky grew dark. Jack Young walked to the window, peering out at the gloomy sky, and suddenly sensed the weird, supernatural vibe growing stronger.
Death was brewing something.
Turning back, Jack noticed three people missing from the group. “Where’d those three go?”
Wendy shrugged helplessly. “Kevin went to find that mortician, and the other pair probably went shopping. It’s been over an hour, but knowing Tilia, that’s totally normal.”
“Kevin went out alone?” Just as Jack frowned, Wendy’s phone started ringing. She picked it up—sure enough, it was Kevin calling.
Wendy immediately asked, “Hey, how are you holding up?”
On the other end, Kevin carefully parked his scooter by the roadside, scanning the street as he answered, “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m heading to Central Hospital now to meet up with you guys—shouldn’t take more than half an hour. I already talked to the mortician. He does know something, and he gave me some news. Not sure if it’s good or bad. He said—”
BOOM—another crack of thunder split the sky. Kevin reflexively ducked his head, then laughed at himself. Grown man, still afraid of thunder? Guess he really was getting frazzled lately.
“Hey, the mortician said—hello?” Kevin tried to continue, but all he heard was the busy tone. “What the heck?!” He frowned and dialed again, but couldn’t get through at all.
“What’s going on?” he wondered. Just then, there was a loud splash—the rain came pouring down, hammering the pedestrians. Lightning flashed again and again, like the heavens were throwing a tantrum. November, deep into fall, and storms like this were rare. Kevin wiped his face, cursed under his breath, and fired up his scooter, speeding toward Central Hospital.
With the rain coming down, visibility dropped and everything blurred—perfect weather for a traffic accident. Kevin knew this well, so he was extra cautious, scanning his surroundings. He’d learned how to stay safe when Death was watching.
The wind howled, rain poured, and yellow leaves shivered, tumbling away with the water.
Back at the hospital: “Hello? Kevin? Hello?” Wendy set down the phone. “Weird, the signal just cut out.” She tried a couple more phones, but there was no signal at all.
How could this happen?
Just then, the TV in the ward answered their question. “Hello, citizens, we interrupt for urgent news. We’ve received an emergency notice: due to a lightning protection failure, the central city wireless signal tower was struck by lightning. All signal devices are overloaded—wireless communication is down. If you need to reach someone, please use a landline. Repairs are underway, but there’s no ETA. Looks like everyone’s spending tonight without a cellphone. Now, live from the scene…”
The four in the ward looked at each other—at that moment, they’d lost contact with the other three completely.
This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^ Click next page to keep reading!
Right then, Julie—who’d been quietly looking at photos—suddenly called out, “Sis, come look at this one! I never realized we’d met Tilia and Bartley way back when!”
Wendy grabbed the photo, and Jack Young and the others crowded around for a look. It was an old snapshot, taken at Halloween. In the photo, a bunch of kids dressed up as all sorts of ghouls and goblins, partying together.
Wendy spaced out for a moment, mumbling, “I remember now. I was six, you were four. We spent a few days at Grandma’s town, right around Halloween. She took this photo of us.”
“Yeah, and look at this!” Julie pointed to one of the kids. “Doesn’t she look just like Tilia?” The girl Julie pointed out was also brown-skinned, with similar features—but kids change a lot as they grow, so it was hard to be sure.
But Jack Young nodded confidently. “That’s her for sure—she’s got a name tag on her chest.”
Everyone leaned in for a closer look and saw that the girl really did have a tag on her chest. But it was so tiny in the photo, nobody could read what it said. Julie gasped, “Wow, your eyesight is amazing! Maybe you should be a pilot or a sniper!”
Jack just smiled and pointed to another boy: “Check out the kid in the pumpkin head—he’s got a name tag too, and it says Bartley.”
“No doubt about it!” Julie clapped her hands. “I’ve heard them say—they’re childhood friends!” Then she turned to Wendy. “What do you think? Does this photo mean anything?”
Wendy’s eyes grew serious. During the Death incident six months ago, every attack came with a clue hidden in a photo. Not every picture made her suspicious, but whenever she saw one that could be a clue, she always felt something weird. Now, looking at the two in the photo, that strange feeling hit her again.
“No doubt, it’s an omen.” Wendy pointed at little Tilia in the photo, who was playfully sticking out her tongue. “Look—her scarf looks just like a rope, and she looks like someone about to be hanged! Next up is Tilia—she needs to stay away from anything that looks like a rope!”
Julie smacked her forehead. “Oh no, that supermarket is full of ropes—and there’s even a speedboat hanging from the ceiling!”
Jack Young spun around and headed out. “You guys stay here and get ready for Kevin. I’ll take care of Tilia.” (Is the introduction a bit too artsy? Should I change it? Hmm, what would be better…?)