Tracy stood at the nurse’s station, naked, writing notes across her stomach. Her hair hung loose, crimped from the tight braid. The twitch-line by her eye flowed like a river delta of liquid evil. I wrapped her up—all of her, in case the darkness found another way out.

I closed the clinic door and taped around the edges. I poured out the bottles of ethyl alcohol and rolled the carts of oxygen tanks from the gas storage and barricaded the door with them. Down the hall in the kitchen, I lit the burners on the stove, turned on the oven and left it open.

I ran. The air, already dark from those that burst before, swarmed me, raking at my skin with icy fangs. The shadow slithered up through the bowels of the building, collecting on the third floor, a writhing mass of nightmare. Moans echoed down the stairwell.

Walking out into the night, backing away from the building, I watched smoke surge from the chimney, streaming into the sky, obscuring the stars. Out of the corner of my eye, every shadow moved. Black tears ran in smoky tracks down my aching face.

I turned my back and walked, a mile down the road and too late. The ground concussed, a gold light spreading, casting my shadow at my feet. A hot wind flew up behind me, pushing the shadows ahead. I chased them.

Sirens ripped through me, scattering red lights cutting through the dark. They streaked past me, toward the gold glow.

I stumbled into the back door of Dad’s mortuary, Dan’s, mine. I shuffled down the stairs, to the corner of the basement, and pulled the ring from the dusty, sticky glue. I pressed it onto my little finger, forcing it over the knuckle, twisting it into the groove at the bottom joint.

I pulled open the freezer door, catching Dan’s body as it fell. He hardly weighed a thing with the evil boiled off. I carried him to a table and laid him out.

I took my knife from the tray. Just like Dad, like Dan. From each shoulder to the base of the manubrium and down to the navel, I cut him open, separating the ribs from the breastbone, laying wide the chest cavity. I pulled the heart from its place and weighed it.

Magnifying Glass

MAGNIFYING GLASS

Outside our new house, the sun flashed off of the wall of windows, and it looked like it was filled with liquid fire. But inside, the air was milky, dim with dust that floated on those relentless sunbeams. By the time we had the windows clean, we were wearing sunglasses inside, squinting at the wall of trees that held us in on all sides. Like a fortress of pine and glass. Safe. Hidden.

Warren looked at me, his face gaunt behind wide tinted lenses. “This house is like a fishbowl,” he said.

“Well, swim to your room and unpack.”