My tension made my wait seem interminable, but then the door opened and the lab tech stepped out. He held a pack of cigarettes in his hand and began walking to the garage exit.

I slipped through the autopsy room door, before the automatic doors slid shut.

The scene was more gruesome than I recalled. I was momentarily transfixed by the glass cases of limbs and organs bobbing in the viscous yellow fluid.

I opened the heavy metal door of the chill room and the frigid air hit me. Cricket and Ford Poindexter were still lying on gurneys, their medical machines beeping and buzzing around them.

I didn’t know if Don Pedro’s weavings would work after so long a time, but I took them from my backpack. I detached the tubes from Cricket, lifted her small, cold body, and rolled her in the fabric.

The jealousy I’d once felt seemed stupid and petty.

Then I removed the tubes from Ford and wrapped him in the fragrant shroud. I’d intended to take Señor Pickles, too, but something stopped me.

I put the Poindexters together on one gurney and pushed it out of the chill room.

I went to the computer at the lab tech’s desk. I might not know how to fix a computer, but I had a talent for screwing them up. Too often in my temp jobs I’d accidentally sent an embarrassing personal message to the entire company.

I took the flash drive out of my pocket and inserted it in a port. A few seconds later, I’d sent the toxic file to everyone in the company with the tantalizing subject title “Hawt zombie azz in sexxxy axtion!”

To help get things started, I opened the worm file. A button popped up that said “Run?” and I clicked “yes.” A second later, the screen started flashing with files being automatically opened and, I hoped, irrevocably corrupted.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. I’d been in the lab for three minutes. I rolled the gurney to the door that led to the garage, hit the button to open it, and looked out. The garage was empty, so I pushed the gurney to the Professor’s car.

I placed the bodies in the trunk and gently pressed down until I heard it click locked when I heard a familiar sound, the shsh-shsh-shsh of corduroy pants.

The Professor came across the garage and said, “I had an alarm set on the bodies because I expected you to return.” He looked at me with a satisfied smile. “Your recovery is excellent.”

I leaned back against his car. “How did you know I wouldn’t go to the police?”