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Nick placed the liver on the counter. “They break down and get et by other bacteria. The problem comes during stuff like surgery. You can sterilize a scalpel, but the dead bacteria are still there. The body’s immune system works by identifying certain chemical triggers in bacteria, and the corpses—including the toxins they release when dying—trigger the same response as living bacteria.”
“That’s why the dead bacteria are called pyrogens,” Dr. Leblanc said without looking up.
“Wait, I know this,” I said. “Pyro means fire or heat. So a pyrogen is something that causes a fever?”
He flicked an approving glance my way. “Yes. They cause fevers, among other issues. Even death, sometimes. That’s why heart surgery scalpels go through a process called depyrogenation, which removes all the dead bits.”
I shuddered. “That’s nasty.”
Allen snorted. “You’re elbow deep in a body, and you say that’s nasty?”
“At least I can see this nastiness.”
Dr. Leblanc set the heart aside and lifted the somewhat-smushed brain from the tub to the counter. I watched, barely daring to breathe as he frowned and peered more closely. At least his focus was on the frontal lobe and not the medulla. So far.
“Allen, will you get a spinal fluid sample as well?” Dr. Leblanc gently prodded the brain.
“Will do,” Allen replied. He gave me a speaking glance then added to Dr. Leblanc, “Do you see something?”
“I won’t be certain until I can look at the samples under a microscope,” Dr. Leblanc said. “But I believe there’s inflammation. I maintain drowning was the cause of death, but he might have been suffering from some sort of encephalitis when he died.”
Or after he died, I thought grimly.
Allen retrieved a sample of cervical spinal fluid, squirted it into a vial and sealed it, then placed it with the rest of the samples. The fluid was cloudy—which even I knew wasn’t normal.
While Dr. Leblanc finished, Nick and Allen did cleanup, dawdling over every task. Meanwhile, I took my sweet time sewing the body up, using big, looping stitches since I was going to have to pull them out anyway to get the samples Dr. Nikas wanted.
After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Leblanc shed his gloves, gathered up his notes, and left the cutting room. Unfortunately, we could still hear him moving around by the computers.
I retrieved a cold pack from the first aid kit, cracked it, then thrust it at Nick. “Put this on your face.” He let out a quiet scoff but obeyed.
Allen lifted an eyebrow. “What, no ice for me? Maybe I got a booboo, too.”
I smiled sweetly. “You already have the chill of your ice-cold heart.”
Nick smothered a laugh. Allen heaved a long-suffering sigh.
A chair scraped in the other room, and we froze. Finally, footsteps retreated down the hall, and the door at the end creaked open and banged shut.
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Immediately, Allen pivoted to face me. “Okay, what the actual fuck was that?” He flung an arm out toward the body. “I’ve never seen a zombie act that way. Was he just really brain-hungry?”
I frowned at the corpse. “I’m not sure what his deal is, but he definitely wasn’t brain hungry, considering he came after me. My kind of zombie goes after real human brains. The times I’ve been really crazy hungry, I could smell a human a block away.”
Allen’s brow furrowed. “You can’t eat a zombie’s brain?”
“I suppose I could, but it’s about as appealing as eating a human brain was before I got zombified.” I shrugged. “A lack of brain scent is one way to tell if someone’s a zombie.” I stopped. “Hang on.” I yanked the top off the tub with the mangled brain and took a deep whiff. “Huh.”
“Enlighten us?”
“It has a brain scent, but it’s kind of not quite right. Like how lunch meat smells a bit off a day after its expiration date.” Yet Judd’s brain hadn’t smelled or tasted odd when I ate it. Then again, I’d smashed his skull open less than a minute after he died. Still warm and fresh.
Nick swallowed. “Do you, ah, have a desire to eat that?”
“No. Not in the slightest.” I replaced the lid, unsettled and not sure why. The smell of the brain wasn’t repulsive, but the idea of eating it was. “It’s definitely not a normal human brain. Or a normal zombie brain. Hell, he’s not a normal zombie, period. I mean, my kind doesn’t mindlessly shamble like that dude.”
But Judd did. I held back a shudder.
