Sao had slept well enough. He didn’t feel tired, but he hadn’t managed to fully settle his nerves. The rattling bus ride to work, with the sun bombarding his face the whole time, hadn’t helped. His discontent was amplified by a grumbling stomach; he had abandoned last night’s soup after all and shed any nutrition his body might have contained through sweat, which now soaked his jacket.

“Have some toast,” Rai said. He was chewing on a piece of limp white bread that didn’t look like it had ever been within ten feet of a toaster. “Payback for yesterday.”

“Oh? Should I be worried?”

“Your coffee wasn’t that bad.”

A night of whatever his rituals entailed had repaired Rai’s mood as well, at least on the outset.

“I got sidetracked last night. HQ had me cross-checking numbers for some bank fraud case headed to court,” Rai went on, finishing his ‘toast’ and fumbling for his coffee mug, without removing his eyes from the computer. “Took me eight hours. I’m finishing up now. I’ll have time to look through the phone files you sent in an hour or two.”

“That’s fine.”

“At a glance, it looks like you got a lot more than just the cache, seeing as you joined Neocam less than a week ago. Deleted post IDs going back six months? Your guy is good, whoever he is.”

“He’ll be glad to hear that.” In actuality, Hro could and would turn any comment into an excuse to gripe. His competence only proved another’s incompetence. “As for the photographer query, I gave it some thought. Aquila might make sense… she had a Rock Pool booking for six, and she had the details for all but Sapphire, so she likely met them after Sapphire passed away. Six people… her and the four girls, and perhaps her accomplice, or the attacker…”

Rai was walled out of sight by his humming monitors and the accumulated stack of journals taken from Hazel, Orchid and Jasmine’s homes. He was clearly busy. Sao went quiet and stuck into his own work; he’d put off six transcription jobs in the past week to traipse around the city on their zombie case.

He pulled up the oldest of his assignments and tried to lose himself in its story of an extremely minor tax evasion scam.

Rai swore suddenly and smacked his computer mouse. The block of a laser printer whirred to life. “And done.”

“Good to hear.”

Stretching, the glowing veins of his arms flaring down the wrists and nearly to his elbows, Rai fell back in his chair. He raised his phone. “Hm. Almost ten. Cad promised we’d get an update on the status of Hazel and Jasmine’s bodies from the morgue. Jasmine’s family went ahead and requested an autopsy over the weekend, so no more procrastination on the hospital’s side. He’ll call back soon.”

Rai went to the kitchen to refill his coffee. It took less than five minutes but he checked his phone the moment he returned. Evidently nothing of interest had occurred. He sat, checked again.

The printer whirred and clicked. Paper jam. Sao looked from it, to Rai, to the meager ten lines of progress he’d made on his transcript. He could hardly remember what the topic was anymore.

“I guess I should look at your pictures now,” Rai said. But soon enough, he was back on his phone.

A twinge of irritation knotted itself in the back of Sao’s mind. He realized he might not be as well rested as he’d assumed. In the past year he’d privately considered plenty of unflattering descriptors for Rai; abrasive, obtuse, volatile and bullish. (In recent months, he reasoned, he’d also come up with plenty of honest flattery to balance out.) But a new word was bubbling up. Ungrateful.

Somehow, it stung that he thought it at all. He felt he was owed something and at the same time couldn’t stand himself for his own entitlement. Nothing was actually owed here. He was trying to help Orchid and Aquila, not tend to his ego.

Rai kept giving him quick, sharp red glances from behind his computer. Was he intentionally holding back?

Stubbornly, Sao told himself his indignation was on Orchid’s behalf, then.

That’s when the phone rang.

Rai leapt up on reflex and froze. He stared at Sao, now on his feet and unobstructed, with disbelief. “It’s yours.”

Didn’t sound like it. Sao looked at his phone which lay mutely on his desk. No - the glittery little chime was coming from the burner in his pocket.

The gleaming screen displayed an unknown number. Sao answered. “Good morning, this is Sao.”

“Are you the detectives?”

“This is an affiliate Investigator’s office. If you need a detective, I can give you a forwarding number to your nearest station…”

“If you’re an Investigator, are you, erm, still being involved in the enquiry of the E34234 trials and the girl in the hospital?”

Sao flashed a look at Rai. “I’m going to put you on speaker.”

“No, no, no, I’d prefer to speak privately.”

“It’s only my supervisor and I who are here. He’s better suited to answer your questions.”

A muffled cough, and a long pause. The voice returned, bubbling with phlegm. “Which one are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you the pale one with the gloves or…” Another cough. “Is this one of the team who were at the bridge side apartments, Sunday?”

“We were both there. I’m Sao. My supervisor Rai is also on the line.”

Rai had joined him at his desk. “I’m the glove guy. And yeah, we’re still looking into the drug and related cases. Why are you calling?” Rai was hovering around an arm’s length away, the respectful distance from Sao, but looked seconds from hurling himself at the phone to unleash on the caller. His voraciously high strung self was a relief to see, after the strange coldness he’d displayed that morning.

“B-before I start, do you report your movements to the military? Have they given you any precautions for when you encounter a user of said drug… do you believe you will have to turn your case over to the military soon, or eventually?”

“You’re not with the investigation, then.” Rai folded his arms across his chest. “I’m obligated to report any findings relevant to the case to our superiors. Eventually.”

“Um. Yes. I’m sorry. I might be…” The caller, in an apparent crisis of self, did not finish that declaration. “Am I allowed to ask questions, then?”

“Allowed, sure. I can’t guarantee they will be answered or stay confidential. Are you a journalist?”

“No. Aquila G_____ is, erm, an acquaintance of mine. I need to know, even if it’s in brief, what happened to her?”

“There was an incident at her home.”

“What’s her status? What has she said of the incident? Is she currently with the military?”

“She hasn’t given any statements. Where are you calling from?”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” the caller babbled - to assure himself rather than Rai, was Sao’s feeling. “You can’t tell me, I know. How would I find out when she was available, if I were, um, an interested party?”

“The police will release updates to the press. If you want an update from Aquila herself, I think you’ll be waiting a while.”

“Why, what happened? Has she been taken in? Or has something happened to her - is she okay?”

Rai’s appetite for the caller was fast dissipating. “Look, if we don’t know who you are, who you’re with, we can’t help you.”

“I- I don’t need you to help me.”

Rai flung a look at Sao that was reflected back at him. Eyebrow raised.

“Please, please,” the caller begged, in a voice that now clicked with throaty wetness. “I’m only concerned, if you can’t tell me anything else, just tell me this, is she alright?”

“It sounds like you do need help, for peace of mind if anything,” Sao said. “You’re concerned. I take it you’re a friend of hers? How would she know you, if I were to tell her you called?”

“Military. I mean, I was. We met at a sort of reunion…”

“I’m sorry to say she isn’t doing well. There was an attack that may have put her life in danger. You mentioned the E34 enquiry, so I assume you’re aware of it. We’ve put that aside. All matters related to the trial appear to have been resolved seven years ago-”

“Really?” the voice interrupted, pitch rising for that one word.

“So the investigation is progressing slowly. I’m sorry, sir, there truly isn’t much to tell.”

“But the matter of the trial - the problem is not solved. How can you say that, when the girl in the hospital is clearly under the effects…? Aquila will clear things up, I know she will. Just… please, be kind to her. She only intended to help.” A pause. “I… I want to speak out in advance, what happened to Orchid may have looked worse than it was. I’m sure Aquila had her reasons.”

“Aquila was involved in Orchid’s suicide attempt?”

“Ehm…”

“Why might you think that?”

“She… she had been planning… I heard…” Another gulp. “I know I should have warned - I didn’t know. I can say for certain, though she wasn’t involved in any of the others.”

“The others?”

“The suicides… um… Hazel and…Jasmine, I suppose.”

“Was she distributing the drug that resulted in Orchid’s current state?”

“No, no… I… I didn’t hear about that. I thought she’d be there, but…”

“Present at the suicide?” Rai asked.

“I mean, I thought, but she wasn’t, or so it appears? Is there any evidence of that? Perhaps Orchid can say. I don’t…”

Rather than answering, Rai and Sao flashed each other mirrored looks again. “Would it be better if we could perhaps speak in person, if you’re uncomfortable here…?” Sao ventured.

“I, um, the phone is more comfortable. I just…” A wheezy silence followed. “Maya. Do you recognize that name?”

Forcing his voice flat, Sao replied, “It sounds somewhat familiar. Friend of Orchid’s?”

“Maya L___. Do you…” A gulp, it seemed, of the liquid that had been building. “No, can you tell her what you know. I believe she’ll be able to help…”

“She’s a person of interest. But we’ve had trouble contacting her,” Rai chipped in. “She isn’t in her home, and is refusing calls to her only known number.”

Silence. “I see… I’ll see if I can help with that.”

“I’m sorry?” The words fell from both of their mouths simultaneously.

“Please, don’t be too hard on her. I suspect she’s scared. Who wouldn’t be? And as for Jasmine and Hazel… please, be gentle with them too.”

“How do you know th-” Rai stopped; switched the approach. “Their bodies are still in cold storage. An autopsy will be performed soon.”

“No. Wait - no - how can that be?” The sudden bloom of despair made both listeners tense. “They were just— what happened?”

“They were two in an apparent line of suicides.” Rai spoke slowly, as if he suddenly wasn’t sure himself. “You said as much, just earlier.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s how it happened. Ah... of course.” That brief answer had been enough to completely settle the caller, even wring out some humor. “If you haven’t… you know, never mind. Would you perhaps mind waiting until you speak to Maya before informing your superiors about my call? I would greatly appreciate it.”

“That can’t be promised,” Rai growled.

His rancor was reviving their caller’s anxiety. “Maya will have much to explain. I will see that she is in touch. Thank you both so much.”

The call ended.

Sao stowed his phone away; it seemed if it lingered on the table any longer, Rai might have gone at it with fists and teeth. Rai returned to his desk and took refuge in some coffee. “Another one’s come into the mix.”

“A man, it sounded. Cas’s storyteller?”

“Or the distributor, or Aquila’s attacker.”

“He sounded…” Sao chewed his lip before continuing. “He sounded like he really was a friend. Despite his skittishness, I believe he was sincerely concerned for her.”

Rai eyed him stiffly, and dropped the gaze, lowering his cup. “I think so too.”

It was unusual for Rai to capitulate on Sao’s softhearted takes. Especially ones Sao had intentionally overstated.

“Too mushy for a journalist, and even if trying for a cover, I don’t think the military would go for someone so stuttering and unprofessional. He could barely string three words together at a time.” Rai pulled out a second coffee cup he’d left prepared somewhere behind his computer. “Anyhow, if that wasn’t all jittery lies, Aquila has definite connections to the girls’ suicides. Orchid’s for sure - seeing as Orchid’s the only zombie, it makes sense that Aquila’s the one behind the drug in some capacity.” He sat back, mulled over his second cup. “What you said about a fifth person in the group. A photographer.”

“Hm?”

“That’s another unnamed role we could consider. I’ll cop to thinking it was Cas as soon as I read your message, but thinking on it, I wonder if it’s someone more like… them.”

“A woman? Ah - Aquila.”

“Not necessarily. I didn’t see her in any of the pictures you sent. Don’t remember seeing her on any of the profiles, either.” Rai sipped his coffee with unusual restraint. “That reminds me, I should arrange some way to see if Orchid can recognize Aquila. The caller hinted she was supposed to be at the suicide, for some reason.”

“Good call.”

“Cole can handle the showing, he’s monitoring her closely these days. He said she’s deteriorating. Hm. Speaking of timelines…”

Sao wished they didn’t have to.

“Aquila was attacked about a week ago, estimated Sunday or Monday. Orchid definitively recorded her ‘death’ on Tuesday evening. Aquila wouldn’t have been able to be there, if all that’s true.” Finishing his coffee, Rai exhaled deeply. “Of course, Aquila’s dates are guesswork.”

“The days are very close, regardless,” Sao offered.

“And it’s not like we saw anyone else in the house, on Orchid’s stream. In the case of a stream, the camera doesn’t need a holder, either.”

“Perhaps they didn’t need a photographer, then.”

“I’m not saying that. Especially when the earlier batches of pictures with Sapphire definitely suggest it.”

Rai was trying to make him feel better, but not make a show of it. Sao felt a bit sheepish for mentally berating him earlier. Perhaps he could mix a joke with a thank-you, for not attacking his shiny new phone during their rather perplexing call. The amusement faded almost as soon as he’d summoned it up.

“Hold on. How did this person get the number of my burner phone?”

—

Cadmus was fairly accustomed to the basement of the hospital, where the cadavers were kept. He'd worked at the same institution for nearly a century now, and Rai had sent him trawling down there often enough. But after a lengthy process, the administration had managed to almost double the mortuary staff size the previous year; willing and qualified people. He hadn’t needed to personally go searching for corpses in a while.

Then these thefts had hit, almost two weeks ago now. The basement staff lounge and four lockers had been broken open. The losses included a coat, a hooded sweatshirt-sweatpants combo, and a pair of slippers. Computers, food and any manner of medicine or chemical were thankfully untouched.

Security cameras had shown what appeared to be two vagrants, wearing body bags over their heads like cloaks, breaking into the room at the crack of dawn when nobody was in it, and looting the clothes. It was theorized that they entered and exited through the fire escape, taking bags from unmanned gurneys.

While the exercise set and the slippers remained at large, the coat had been found in the lobby, two days later, which only made the incident even stranger.

The mortuary staff hadn’t made a fuss. With a mildness perhaps necessary for such an occupation, they’d gone back to work with minimal complaint. But the amount of stalling there had been regarding Jasmine and Hazel’s corpses implied more than a touch of lingering resentment.

First excuse, the request didn’t have enough clearance. When Cadmus himself put in the request, the excuse became ‘too busy.’ Then it was a misunderstanding in the schedule.

Cadmus pulled the storage unit numbers from the computer system with ease, and headed straight for the basement. This much he could handle. The upcoming autopsy was what worried him, if the mortuary strike (so he’d come to call it) were to extend to that.

He took a brief detour to the basement staff room to ease his mind. It was empty. The door lock had been repaired, as had the lockers inside.

Cadmus scratched a sheath of aura flakes from his skin. The patient Orchid - and now Aquila - were part of Rai’s case. Victims to a drug scandal Cadmus should have remembered. He’d forgotten, and now he was holding up the case because he couldn’t locate some inert bodies.

Perhaps the difficulties were to be part of his redemption. He’d polled the idea, and while Cole found it funny (his humor evaded Cadmus at times), Lem had neatly taken him down for thinking such a thing. “You’ve been redeeming yourself for decades,” she had said. “If anything, honey, you’ve overpaid. Nobody blames you for forgetting. I had to dig through three boxes in the attic; stuff I certainly had no recollection of; just to find that one slip of paper.”

She’d asked how Rai was, after that.

Cadmus felt his skin peeling more rapidly now, shedding and scabbing in rapid succession. He felt like a tree throwing off its leaves in desperation before the winter hit. He shook as much off as he could and washed the pieces down the drain of the sink; being aura they’d dissipate on their own within a minute or so, but he didn’t want anyone to have to look at them.

Donning gloves and a face mask, he entered the chilly room where Jasmine’s body was stored.

It wasn’t a place he’d ever wish to spend more time in, but he wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d once been in this room. The little doors with their inner rolling drawers were closely packed together, but it was better than the rusty shelving that had been in use until just a couple decades back. Shortly before Rai was born. Rai had never seen the cruel, unsectioned rows stuffed with bodies, shoulder to shoulder showing only their feet, nor the old muggy lighting that made everything look a bit yellower and rottener than they were.

Cadmus had nearly convinced himself he actively liked the current setup, until he opened the locker where Jasmine should have been, and found it empty.

The fear didn’t really set in until he located Hazel's drawer and also saw it vacant.

Cadmus was 300 years old and had only ever seen one zombie movie. It had been Rai’s choice, when the boy was thirteen or so, and Cadmus had fallen asleep halfway through. Even the word ‘zombie’ being thrown around as of late hadn’t stirred much in him, beside the guilt he’d earned for forgetting the old court case. The terror he felt now revolved around responsibility. Someone had hidden this. Someone had to report it. Someone had to find them. And what if…

What if there were more?

Cadmus took out the printed stub he’d made with the recorded names and numbers. This was the place. He gave the drawers a second, careful inspection then walked back to the staff room.

There were a few attendants in there now, who became fidgety as children when he entered. Cadmus went to the computer, printed the full list of mortuary occupants and took the papers back to the storage room. Sloughing off another swath of skin petals, he started opening the doors, one by one.

—

“Are you sure you haven’t seen this woman?”

“Nope.”

“You haven’t seen her, or you aren’t sure?”

“I dunno. Both.”

Cole pushed the image of Aquila closer, just in case. Orchid’s once-bright navy eyes had degraded into a washed-out blue, but she claimed she could see perfectly fine. She could also wrinkle her nose and brow with no trouble at all.

“Why does it matter,” she grunted.

“This woman is said to have been with you when you streamed your suicide attempt. Or intended to be with you.”

Orchid frowned at him. Despite the unnerving dynamism of her face, her hair and flesh had become devoid of flexibility and luster, and her skin cracked when moved too much, too suddenly. “Is this picture recent? Doesn’t look like it.”

Cole pulled the picture away and frowned back at her. “I’m not exactly sure when this one was taken, but the court case was ten years ago…”

“Ten years? Do you know how much people can change in ten years? Surely you wouldn’t have even brought up the topic if you didn’t have another photo. Don’t bother playing coy with me, doc. I’ve been on the internet my whole life. I’ll be fine even if you’ve got pics of the old girl nude or dead. Lay it on me.”

“If you’ll promise not to share them out.”

“Oh, no! I can’t promise anything. For all you know, me and the old lightning hands will have the picture posted ten times over, the moment your back is turned.”

Cole smiled at the jab. Orchid’s body had gone unresponsive. There had been some confusion over how to hook it up to any additional life support, and in the end they’d gone for a pacemaker, and ventilator tube shoved directly down the throat via the open neck wound. Dialysis had been set up but quickly disconnected. There was clearly some sort of blood infection going on, but the same infection or some aspect of it was the only thing sustaining her, and the filtered blood had caused accelerated rotting. It had been a painful ordeal.

He hoped the head would sustain on its own a while longer. Cole was pretty sure if Orchid were to stop talking, he’d just walk out. Someone else could pick up the slack.

“I’ll just have to trust you with this.” He pulled out a picture of Aquila taken upon her admittance that weekend. He had acquired the nice large printout before Rai had even suggested it. He had been hoping to show it to Orchid, and even if that never came to fruition, he wanted a copy for his own records.

“Now here’s a glamor shot to be proud of.” She was inspecting the black-veined face closely. “The old lady got to keep her head on, at least.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t get to retain consciousness. She seems to be in a coma, as a result of a rushed infusion of the drug. While you can’t seem to remember how yours came to pass, we are under the impression it generally comes as a pill regiment. She took it in liquid form, at least 12 pills’ worth, directly to the bloodstream via injection after her injury.”

“Like a junkie.”

“Ah, but the theory is someone else administered it. And it seemed to be her first dose.”

“That’s how junkies start out. Too bad, though. I would have liked to talk to her.” Orchid’s frown had deepened. The strain was pulling a sticky black cut open at her hairline. Cole reached out and pushed the skin flat, nudging back the strands. Orchid didn’t protest; it wasn’t the first time he’d adjusted her. He didn’t even have to ask anymore. “But seriously speaking, doc, I haven’t seen her before. Since she’s not talking… I guess someone else told you she was supposed to have met me for my suicide vid?”

“An anonymous caller, supposedly. And she had your contact details.” Cole propped the photo on the pillow and took a seat on a chair he’d set up facing her. “This lady was a military espionage agent turned E34 litigant. Rai thought we should know that she was an expert in orchestrating suicides.”

Orchid bit her lip, carving another dark line into her face. “I don’t know her, but I’d heard of her. Not by name, though.”

“Meaning…?”

“Augh!” She rolled - hopped - to her side. The black rope grown from her neck curled in wake of the movement like a slow-moving tail. “If it’s gotten this far, I guess I should tell you: there was someone with me that night. I was, I guess, expecting help. It was supposed to be an expert in suicide. But… it wasn’t this lady.”

And she stuck out her tongue a few times, gesturing back at the photo. It was an endearing little quirk she’d adopted since she had no fingers to point with. It had become less amusing over the past day or two, though. Her tongue was turning the same milky blue color as her eyes.

—

Their phones rang at the same time.

Rai shot a look at Sao, waved him back into his seat, and took his phone to the lobby to let them focus on their separate calls.

It was the burner phone that was ringing. Sao picked up. “Hello, this is Sao. You called earlier?”

“Er, no. I was told to call this number, though…” The voice was delicate, like glass.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Maya?”

“I am. I was told we could meet?”

“Yes, of course, if you’re comfortable.” It was clear she wasn’t, so Sao tried to brush that thought away quickly. “We’ve been wanting to meet you for a while. I’m glad you were able to call. Have you been doing alright?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I- I’m supposed to help you?” She sounded only marginally less shaky than the previous caller. “Just the two of you.”

“We would really like the chance to talk to you, there’s so much we don’t understand. My supervisor will be free in a moment, he’s currently on a call of his own, if you’d like to wait.” Rai’s call didn’t appear to be going smoothly. Sao could hear him tossing around obscenities in the hallway. He hoped Maya wouldn’t hear.

“If you’re okay with it, I thought we could meet,” she said.

“I, ah, that would be perfect. Where would you like to meet?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment. I’ll tell you the address - call when you’re close, but not before you reach the building - and I’ll tell you the floor. It has to be only you two. Otherwise I won’t answer when you come. Okay? If I see anyone else with you, or you try anything weird, I’ll hide and go away again… and you’ll never find me.”

Rai was back in the room, looking much more frazzled than he had when he’d left.

“I understand. I mean, we understand.” Sao looked up. “Over here, Rai, Maya’s on the line.”

Rai almost fell over. “Um, hey. I just got off a call myself. Sorry, I’m kind of messed up - no, I guess you can’t see me… fuck it.”

The curse made Sao twitch, but it was taken cheerily by Maya. What had been dark and muddled suddenly washed over with brightness. “You’re the one with the gloves?” She laughed audibly, even affectionately, a cartoonish little rattle. “I heard about you. Okay, good! Since you’re both here now, I’ll give you the address… are you listening?