Most death erections were caused by a violent death that damaged major blood vessels causing priapism—the most common of these to cause the condition being hanging or strangulation. Her John Doe shouldn’t have been subjected to either.
She’d been led to believe that it was the injection of PrPM3.
Elizabeth examined his throat and found ligature marks.
What the actual hell was going on?
Polidori leaned over his work and moved quickly, scraping under the John Doe’s fingernails, drawing a blood sample and preparing the bone saw. “We need to get a look at his brain as soon as we can.”
“Wait, he’s been strangled. He was murdered,” Elizabeth said.
“Was he?” Polidori looked as if he already knew that.
“Just tell me what’s going on. Stop with the surprises. I can’t do my job effectively without all the facts.” Elizabeth gripped the side of the table, the cool metal grounding her and reminding her to breathe.
“Get a load of his Angel Lust.” He nodded to the erection.
“Yes, I saw that. That’s why I was checking for ligature marks, and I found them,” Elizabeth said, exasperated.
The hand on the table jerked.
Elizabeth wasn’t fazed. While muscle movement after death was rare, it wasn’t unheard of. Neither was the sudden vocalization. The long, dry, death rattle that was simply air leaving the lungs.
What was unheard of, however, was when she pressed the scalpel to his chest, his eyes opened and he grabbed her wrist.
Elizabeth wasn’t ashamed to admit that she almost shit her pants.
She shrieked and Polidori grabbed him, pried his fingers from around her wrist, breaking them as he did so.
PrPM3 had done something to this man, something that made him not living and not dead.
His eyes were all white, yet not sightless. They tracked her. His jaw creaked and cracked as it separated, much like a snake’s as he dove for her arm. Venom dripped from newly sharp teeth—he had a mouth like a buzz saw.
“Elizabeth, if you’d please exit using strategy A, I’ll follow. The manacles will hold him until we’re free.”
As he spoke, the manacles in question clamped around his wrists and ankles, even his neck. The dead man turned his head at an unnatural angle to look at her. There was a rage in his unseeing eyes, something dark and unholy.
Fear knotted around her, and she found herself frozen to the spot.
This, what they’d made, it was wrong. “The phenobarbital,” she began.
“You have to understand, we need to study these specimens in real time. I thought you understood that now.”
“Goddamn it, Polidori.”
“I thought we agreed I didn’t need to read you any more nursey rhymes? Now, please. Do as I’ve asked. This one is stronger than we anticipated, and the manacles won’t hold him long.”
She pressed her lips together and looked between the escape and Polidori. “I won’t leave you alone with him.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m dead. He can’t hurt me. But you… he could hurt you very much. He’s obviously venomous, but I don’t know if he’s infectious. I don’t believe that’s how you imagined the end of your day.”
He was right. She did as he asked, trying not to think about what else he hadn’t told her or what other horrors awaited them. Elizabeth could do that later. Right now, she needed to get herself to safety, to the room beyond this containment unit.
They’d known what they’d done, what was going to happen. It was why the transport team had left so quickly. They’d dropped their parcels and evacuated the island like it was…
She got herself on the other side and, as soon as she was secure, Polidori released the thing.
He broke through the manacles as if they were nothing more than paper.
Jesus, it was strong. She wondered if the containment unit would be able to hold him. She ran back over all the exit routes from the installation, the safe houses and hiding places they’d shown her on the tour.
This was all supposed to be worst case scenario, something that happened due to forces beyond their control—not something they’d engineered on purpose.
She cringed at her own naiveté. Had she ever really believed such a thing? Deep down in the dark places of her heart where only truth could breathe?
No.
Now was the time for protocol.
She watched as it ignored Polidori, as if he was inconsequential to the thing. It followed in her steps, like a dog sniffing out her trail, and tracked her to the door. It dropped to all fours and licked the floor, venom and spittle pooling at the corners of its mouth. It gnawed on the doorframe with those horrible nightmare teeth. Not getting the result it wanted, it lifted its nose to the air, scenting.
Polidori eased his way around the room, edging toward the door. Waiting for it to explore some other avenue.
It seemed like hours they stood there, frozen. In reality, she knew it had only been seconds. Her fingernails had cut half-moon wounds into her palms and, when Polidori moved toward the exit, she held her breath.