A night’s sleep had cleared Sao’s outlook. He’d give the case just that little push it needed. Play his cards smartly, and there’d be no harm, even if the lead came to nothing.

But for Orchid’s sake, he hoped for something.

Sao was told to meet Rai at the hospital the following morning for an update. At reception, Axelle waved him down. Her greeting was effusive, but short. She directed him quickly to the upper floor where Cadmus, Cole and Rai were waiting.

Sao was able to weasel in his offer, “I think I know where the group photos were taken, we can check it out later today,” before Rai launched him into the more serious matters of the day.

“The military turned up,” he said. “They had a real go at our zombie earlier this morning.”

“What? Is she alright?”

“She’s resting now,” Cole said. He was slouched against the wall, looking more bemused by the whole ordeal than Sao thought he should have. “She’s not a morning person and, well, she can be hard-headed, I don’t think I need to tell you that. I doubt she gave them anything useful. We probably learned more from the interrogation squad than they got out of us.”

“There was a pointed interest in how Orchid had obtained the pill. She didn’t know; she had a history of impulse drug purchases from street vendors and anonymous websites, so I’m inclined to believe she wasn’t keeping inventory.” Cadmus added, “The army folk were reluctant to even look us in the eye, but I suppose the cat’s out of the bag. Before leaving, a representative asked us to be on the lookout for any patients with similar conditions, specifically the leached colouration and darkened blood. And mentions of having taken a black powder or pill, and where the drug had been distributed.”

“They’ll probably be tearing up Hazel’s room again.” Rai pulled a bitter grin. “And Orchid’s grandpa is going to have to put a hold on his house sale.”

Sao couldn’t quite believe he was hearing. “The military took interest in the case?”

Cadmus interjected before Rai or Cole could hurl in another quip. “More like the military was the source of the case all along. Last night, the hospital put in a request for an alchemical professional to take a look at the patient, as well as the pill residue you found in one of the girls’ homes. The army must have recognized the stuff and this was the response.”

Cadmus frowned, scratched aura flakes from his chin.

“Blackened blood and ‘zombification.’” He enunciated each syllable, as if testing out an intricate scientific term. “It was that… colloquialism that rang a bell. A decade back, there was a scandal involving a poorly handled military drug trial. Lem, my wife, had some awareness leaflets dated nine years ago, when something in that realm was being disputed in the courts. The name of the substance, or perhaps the serial number of the trial was - it’s a mouthful - E34234. Framed as a chemical life preserve for soldiers, it would keep them conscious and moving, even when their bodies were falling apart in the midst of battle. But the lawsuit brought up that the drug resulted in irreparable damage to the health and wellbeing of the trial subjects - all of whom had been volunteer soldiers - after the sudden, unexplained cancellation of the project.”

Rai took out the small sheet of paper he’d scrunched into one of his pockets. The sheet was a hot, angry orange color, stuffed with cramped black text, the ink chipped off with age. The most prominent section was a list of possible 'E34' symptoms.

• Loss of color/darkening in skin, gums, blood

• Lethargy

• Numbness to pain

• Decreased heart and/or breathing rate

• Sustained movement and consciousness after grievous and even fatal injury

The prosaic little leaflet ended with a call for witnesses, relations, or trial subjects themselves to testify. To seize back their due rights. An email address made up of random numbers was the contact point.

“The email bounces everything back,” Rai told him. “Not surprising - it was on an anonymous service, set up almost ten years ago.”

“I never met any of the E34 subjects myself - or even anyone who personally knew an affected subject. There was no indication as to how long the trial had been, how many were involved, and what the results even were. I didn’t even think to read into the case.” Cadmus crossed his arms tight over his chest as if trying to compress himself. “And didn’t think to follow up at any point, either. Over the years it… slipped my mind.”

“Good thing you have Lem, then,“ Rai said. “Though, it's not surprising you didn't remember it off the top of your head. I went through the legal records. The case was quiet. A lot redacted for military secrecy. The only evidence on record were letters from a supposed test subject, an enlisted man, to a family member while he was undergoing the trial. In the settlement, the man was taken back to the military hospital for treatment and the letters stopped. It seems like the guy had just missed out on the remedial treatment, an oversight experienced by maybe three or four other—“

“Oh, come on.” Cole drummed his hands against the wall. “Rai, you worked for the Daily Informer. The thought of the military whipping up zombies doesn’t strike you as flagrantly unethical? It’s damn mad science. You can just believe the people behind something like that cleared everything up - compensated and un-zombified everyone so pefectly that there was never a peep of complaint, ever again? Something’s missing here.”

“Cole has a point,” Sao said. “How could this not have been big news, even if it had to be sensationalized a bit? The tabloids have called for uproar over completely immaterial things; a woman being called a witch because of her age, one person believing they see demons, unsubstantiated alien abductions... Even papers like the Daily deserve some credit for keeping the Sigma case alive in spite of military meddling and attempts at coverup. An insensitive pundit must have gotten their hands on the E34 story, at some point. Surely the military wasn't the one who linked their own project to the word 'zombie'.”

“Fadeout is what happens when the story - or the people telling it - aren’t dramatic enough to keep it going,” Rai muttered. “I did look through the Daily archives - whatever was intact after their constant rebranding. Just three articles, around the time of the court case. They were given material as dry as this,” he waved the orange leaflet, “or stuff even less convincing. There were some injured soldiers, but…” he hesitated. “They didn’t look hurt enough to get people riled up. That’s just my assessment. I’m not a doctor.”

Cole gave an exaggerated sigh. “I see. No good visuals to plaster on the front page. Black blood, organ damage? Even if there’s a photographer with the stomach for it, the average reader isn’t going to be able to make an assessment. And the ‘possibility’ of surviving fatal injuries? That won’t come up in a photo. The litigant was too respectful, is the problem.”

Cadmus was not quite so enthused. “The more grievously injured might not have wanted to get involved in the press circuit.”

“It could be time for revival.” Cole clasped his hands together and grinned. (Speaking of mad science, Sao mused.) “We’ve got perhaps one of the most severely injured test subjects in our care right now who committed the whole process to camera herself.”

“Cole,” Cadmus said, “We are not sending a patient’s information to the press.”

“It doesn’t need to be you or me. There are men - and a few women - of all ages crawling around trying to sneak a vid of their favorite bikini model with her head lying half a meter away from her body. Just this morning, Orchid told me that she was hoping for those sorts of visitors.”

“Orchid still needs psychiatric assessment.”

Cole gave a noncommittal shrug. Rai however, took the chance to return to the details at hand. “So, remedial treatment… did her interrogators make any mention of what that is?”

Cole scoffed.

“We were only told to keep her comfortable, and they’d be in touch,” Cadmus said, utilizing his centuries of trained clemency.

“So the army wasn’t here to help. Duh. So we’re still stuck on the question of how to help Orchid.” Rai gave the leaflet a final grim look and shoved it into his jacket. “I haven’t got any notice of them kicking down Orchid’s grandpa’s door yet, so they probably aren’t in a huge rush. Trying to be subtle themselves, maybe. We should try to cover as much ground as possible in case they decide they don’t want anyone else messing with their failed drug coverup - or whatever this is.”

“The bodies of the other girls,” Cadmus murmured. “They’re still being located. Mortuary staff has been preoccupied, but I assure you they’ll come up soon. Our military friends asked about Hazel too.”

“Because the pill wrapper was in her house. Their concern is a distributor. In other words, the dollars being made off their mistakes.”

“There was something odd about how our visitors described the effects we should be on lookout for. The way dosage works…” Cadmus gave this a moment’s thought. “They emphasized we try to find out both the amount taken and the duration over which it was ingested.”

“Assuming we get any patients coming in to complain of zombie-like symptoms at all,” Cole chuckled.

“This leads me to believe there may be a certain dosage structure needed to attain that zombified state. That wouldn’t be unusual for a drug trial. The drug may be ineffectual in small doses, maybe even passed harmlessly out of the system. As it is now, Orchid’s bloodstream is fully saturated in the E34, the body - and head - is producing it on its own. Either she was lucky or maybe it’s the effect of an overdose…”

“Even her production is slowing down.” Cole clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “So the friends of hers that you’re looking for may not have taken the right dose and, well, not successfully zombified. Assuming they’d planned to survive their suicides...”

“We’ll inspect the bodies when the mortuary gives the call,” Cadmus said.

“Orchid was lucky, huh,” Rai muttered.

“Not in the sense that her life’s improved… I say it because she couldn’t possibly know what the proper dosage was to survive. Yet here she is.”

“Maybe the dealer knew the dosage.” Rai adjusted his gloves. “Whoever that is. How did this discontinued trial drug, circulated only among soldiers, get passed to a couple of online influencers? None of the girls had military history, unless you count the one of them who thought about joining the army magic course but failed out.” He turned to the doctors. “Sapphire. The one who's already been cremated.”

“I’ll see if Lem has any connections who may know more about the old court proceedings.”

“Thanks. And we’re headed out to one of the girls’ known hangouts to see if we can get a better idea of their lives before all this.” Rai directed Sao toward the elevators. “Catch up later, Gramps.”

In the elevator, Sao felt he could relax again. He loosened his collar, thinking of their impending walk in the sun to the parking lot. At nearly the same time, Rai did the same with his own collar, caught Sao’s eye and pulled a tight smile. “Bracing for the heat, huh? Today is another scorcher.”

“But it’s already been productive.” Sao smoothed down his shirt. “The military… I have to ask, should we bring this up with the chief?”

Chief Zu, the solitary and incurably downcast commander of the Core Cities police force, had once been a high ranking member of the Central army. A special magic operative; Sapphire’s dream job. Zu hadn’t come out of his service particularly a dreamy character, but he still tended to be protective of his old compatriots. Perhaps by obligation - the police were essentially funded by the military.

Sao couldn’t say he found the chief particularly approachable, but paid him the required respect. Rai was typically nonplussed by the very idea of him. Sao had seen as much expressed even to the man’s face.

Rai shrugged. “I’ll bet they’ve already got him in the loop. However, he hasn’t put in any kind of warning. That guy gobbles up any excuse to throw up bureaucratic barricades. I’ll take the lack of protest as encouragement to keep going.”

“Positive thinking. I like that.” And he did. It beat the self-loathing Rai of the previous evening.

“So, the place you said was in the photos?”

Short lived relief. Sao’s throat tightened again. “Right…”

—

“Really? Still waiting on someone to pull the girl’s bodies?” Cole said, as Cadmus made to leave. “How long does this usually take?“

“The mortuary staff have been busy. As are we all.”

Cole folded his arms. “Think it’s related to the staff room burglaries?”

“In terms of their attitude, or are you suggesting the coat thief’s escalated to snatching bodies?”

It was rare for Cadmus to exhibit humor. Cole gave a polite guffaw and they parted ways.

Cole strolled into Orchid’s room and crowed out a good morning. At first he’d been overcompensating with his greetings, winding himself up to face his decapitated patient. Over time they’d both adjusted - to the sight of each other and their situation - but he kept it up, a bit of light humor.

One navy eye peeked open, regarded him dully from behind the bulge of her pillow. Irises clouded. Not an encouraging development. Black crescents were developing around her eyes, and more confoundingly, around her scalp. The non-head portion of her body had largely stopped moving, too. Finger and toenails were coming loose.

Both segments of her body took fluids, but not food. Cole checked the tubing, cleaned the bloody black ooze off the ends.

“What would happen if you hooked me up to a bag of vodka or something?” Orchid asked.

“Cadmus would knock me senseless.”

“At least you’d already be in a hospital.” She snorted, and let out a sigh. For someone detached from her lungs, she had no trouble snorting and sighing and huffing, at did so at the slightest prompting. The black bulb attached to her neck pumped air tirelessly. “I thought I heard the cute investigator outside. He didn’t wanna visit me? Think I put him off last time?”

Cole imagined Sao had that effect on a lot of interviewees. “Mr Dark and Handsome had a prior engagement.”

Another snort. “That one’s the assistant. Mr Investigator is the frowny one.”