Genna arrived, as she did every night, at that lead-gray building located about two kilometers from the central hospital of Cold Valley, although it was part of the same complex. Today marked exactly one year since she had begun her residency in forensic medicine, and yet it could not have mattered less to her. She was a practical and austere woman, though not an unmerciful or opportunistic pragmatist. For her, all those bodies lying there, carefully packaged and labeled, still possessed dignity; this was one of the main reasons why she never tolerated the jokes some of her colleagues made, such as, “She was nicely built!” or “Wow, this one sure was responsible!” Whenever she heard such dehumanizing comments, her calm and sober voice would rise above the others: “If they were alive, how do you think they would respond?”

That alone was enough to make them quiet down.
However, Bastián—the most reluctant to give in—would always dust off a sharp argument from the drawer of his mind, one he claimed he had used before, though he could never remember in what conversation.

“Look, Genna, after we die all that’s left are the shells,” he said that day. “I’ve got donkey-sized testicles. The day my remains are lying on one of these tables, it won’t matter whether someone notices and comments on that peculiarity or ignores it.”

Genna could not help but feel indignant at Bastián’s absurd reflection. It was certainly clever, but she was not willing to give him that—not even to give free rein to the hilarity that imagining him lying there with his giant balls out in the open provoked. Behind his witty remarks and brutal honesty hid an unbearable load of cynicism.

“Can’t you be a little more insensitive?” she snapped, grabbing the intake records folder.

Genna headed toward one of the autopsy rooms with the folder under her arm. She was not going to let Bastián have the last word.

She walked down the hallway with determination. She was tall and slender, a condition made even more striking by her platform sneakers—one of the few indulgences she allowed herself in her life and in her work, which were practically the same thing, since she often let her work define her.

********

“So, Paola, what do we have today?”

That, of course, was a rhetorical question, since Genna had read every file on her way there. She did not like to miss a single detail of her work.

“Are you serious?” Paola asked. “I bet you can say it better than I can.”

They were standing in front of the corpse of a middle-aged man, with purplish marks around his neck and traces of cyanosis. The cause of death could not have been more obvious to both of them.

“The third one this month, right?”

“That’s right,” Paola confirmed. “It’s an epidemic.”

They began the routine procedure. First they had to check that the body carried no personal items; if it did, these were placed in sealed bags, registered, and later returned to the family. Then they examined the bodies for external injuries, performed the dissections—documented with audiovisual media—and finally wrote their reports.

An elderly man of about eighty entered the room. He had graying hair, watery eyes, and a pointed nose; the thick lenses of his glasses made his tired eyesight stand out even more. Aside from his lab coat and ID badge, there was almost nothing about him that made him look familiar with the place. He looked more like a retired grandfather telling anecdotes to his grandchildren.

“Good evening, Doctor Salvatierra,” Genna greeted him.

Public health law in Cold Valley forbade forensic residents from performing autopsies without the presence of a certified medical examiner; not even fourth-year residents like Genna were exempt.

“Good evening, girls,” he replied with the courteous, affectionate tone he always used with them. “Another man unhappy with his life?”

Both of them looked at him and sighed.

********

Glenis did not feel comfortable at all. She was hyperventilating, sweating profusely. Her colleagues had helped her sit down, and Gastón was on his way to the water fountain to get her a glass of water.

“I swear to you, it wasn’t like that,” Glenis insisted. “I didn’t move her either.”

She was referring, of course, to the corpse—a young woman in her twenties who already showed the green abdominal stain, the first sign of decomposition. Her head, turned to the right, revealed eyes with a hollow, dislocated stare.

“It’s probably an internal decapitation,” Bastián suggested smugly. “That’s why the head rolled on its own.”

“She died of an overdose, not an accident, genius,” Glenis shot back sarcastically. “Besides, she already has rigor mortis.”

“Maybe Glenis’s fear isn’t unfounded,” Marlennys’s voice sounded behind them. She was another of the residents.

“When we need a witch, we’ll consult you,” Bastián said without turning around.

Marlennys stuck her tongue out at his back.

Still, Bastián had no answer, and for the first time, he chose silence.

“We should consult Doctor Salvatierra,” Glenis suggested.

“And by the way, why hasn’t Gastón come back yet?” Bastián asked. “He went for your water a while ago.”

“I’ll go get Salvatierra,” the giant added. “Maybe I’ll run into Gastón on the way.”

Bastián’s departure left a tense silence that no one dared to break.

“Ahhhhhgggg!”

That horrible scream came from the hallway—and it could only be one person.

********

“Doctor Salvatierra, you have to come now!” Bastián shouted as he burst into the room.

“All right, all right, I’m coming as fast as I can,” he replied. “I’ll be with you shortly, girls. Wait here.”

Bastián left the room, followed by Salvatierra.

Paola still had not adapted to the oppressive atmosphere of places like that, which only grew heavier as the solitude increased. She decided to share this with Genna, who was both understanding and direct.

“It’s incredible… I’ve been here a year, and it still feels like the first day. I still get nervous sometimes…”

“You’ll get used to it,” Genna reassured her. “The same thing happened to me my first year.”

It comforted Paola to know that someone else understood what she was going through, even if it did not calm her completely.

But her calm was abruptly interumpted by an awful scream, comming from the corridor area.

********

They all gathered in the central hallway, where the scream had come from. None of them were prepared for what they saw.

“Oh God! Oh God!” Glenis cried, clinging to Bastián.

Gastón was slumped against the wall a few steps away, in a large pool of blood. He had a deep wound on the right side of his neck, from which blood was still spurting intermittently—suggesting the carotid artery. His body trembled in spasms.

Doctor Salvatierra checked his pulse.

“Maybe we can still do something,” Genna ventured.

“No,” the doctor corrected her. “There’s nothing left to do, except let him go in peace and pray for his soul.”

Seconds later, Gastón’s eyes were staring into nothingness.

“One of the guard dogs must have gotten loose…” Bastián suggested.

It was the stupidest observation anyone could have made, but no one pointed it out. None of them—including Genna—blamed him; he was just like all of them, trying to make sense of something beyond comprehension.

“The doors are locked. The dogs can’t get in,” Glenis observed.

But if that was shocking, what they saw next went beyond any possible understanding.

One of the bodies from Room C was dragging itself out into the hallway. Its movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, but it was moving straight toward them. Its slowness still gave them time to react.

“This is an aberration!” Doctor Salvatierra exclaimed. “An offense against the laws of God and nature… there is no explanation for this.”

He was not the only one who found no explanation. None of them did—except Marlennys. But her explanation was not rational, and she knew they were not ready to hear it.

“You will do exactly what I say, no matter how irrational it sounds,” Marlennys told them.

No one dared to object—not even Bastián, despite how much he enjoyed contradicting her. Hearing her talk about magic was one thing; hearing her while a man who had been dead for hours was walking toward them was another.

Even Genna, the most skeptical, gave in to the evidence.

“All right,” she agreed. “What do we do?”

Marlennys asked her to extend her hand, then poured a bit of salt into it.

“Throw it at its face when it gets close enough.”

Bastián stepped forward and snatched the salt, placing himself directly in the path of the body.

The corpse advanced heavily in its lab coat. When it reached Bastián and tried to grab him by the neck, he resisted the urge to lose control and hurled the salt straight into its face.

The body collapsed instantly, like a rag doll, becoming once again just a corpse.

“Do you have more?” Genna asked.

“Only this,” Marlennys said, showing a salt shaker.

“Only a damn witch would walk around with a salt shaker,” Bastián joked.

Genna could not believe he was joking at a time like this.

“The damn witch who just saved your skin,” Marlennys replied with some pride.

They were still standing in the hallway.

“If they’re that slow, it gives us time… I wonder how that idiot Gastón let one of these turtles get the drop on him.”

“Only the ones with rigor mortis are slow,” Marlennys explained.

“Then we need to tie Gastón’s body up, now,” Paola suggested.

Doctor Salvatierra was stunned. He had never seen anything like this in all his career.

“Yes, you’re right, we must tie him,” Marlennys agreed. “But not for the reason you think…”

Bastián grabbed his head.

“All right, fine, stop being cryptic,” he snapped. “If what you want is an apology for doubting the paranormal exists, here it is—you have my sincerest apology. Now I’m going to tie this guy up before he gets up and turns us into minced meat.”

He took off his belt and was about to approach the corpse when Gastón’s body suddenly began to convulse. Instinctively, everyone backed away as far as they could.

Everyone except Doctor Salvatierra, who did not move in time and was slammed head-on by Gastón. The reanimated corpse attacked him with even greater agility than in life. The strike was so sudden that not even Bastián, the strongest of them, could stop it.

After delivering a fatal gash to the old doctor’s abdomen, Gastón’s body stood still for a moment, staring at them with lifeless eyes.

“Let’s all back away slowly toward that open office,” Bastián proposed. “I’ll cover you, and when I start running, you go in, I’ll catch up, and we lock the door.”

They all moved backward, feeling their heartbeats pounding in their temples. Gastón’s body advanced slowly, then suddenly began to run.

The girls dashed into the office without closing the door, while Bastián stood his ground with a pinch of salt between his fingers. Gastón lunged at him, jaws open for his carotid artery—but once again, Bastián managed to throw the salt in its face just in time.

The girls shouted from the doorway. Bastián shoved the body off him and crawled into the room. None of them had ever closed a door so fast in their lives.

********

“At last we’re safe,” Bastián sighed, locking it.

“They won’t be able to open it, right?” Glenis asked.

“They’re not specters, just reanimated bodies,” Marlennys said. “They have the same limitations as the living, though with a bit more strength.”

“Even so, we need to get out soon,” Genna warned. “They could surround us.”

“I don’t think they’re that smart,” Paola said.

“They are, because a sorcerer is controlling them,” Marlennys corrected her. “But you need many trapped souls and a very powerful, experienced bokor to control several at once. I don’t think this one is—since the bodies are attacking us one by one.”

“Unfortunately, these arts aren’t my specialty,” she added. “I only know the basics to protect us. Still, I think we can get through this.”

Paola suddenly remembered something.

“Do you remember what we said about Paco, Genna?”

“You think it was him?”

“That sewer rat is perfectly capable of this,” Marlennys confirmed with contempt. “I never could stand him.”

Bastián looked more unsettled than the girls.

“Any suggestions for getting out of here?” he asked. “They’re already dead, and whoever’s controlling them—whether it’s that bastard or not—has all the time in the world. We don’t.”

“Can we hurt them?” Glenis asked.

“They’re already dead,” Genna said. “I imagine the only way to stop them is to destroy the body with heat or something like that.”

“You’re right,” Marlennys agreed. “Intense heat or nitrogen—but we don’t have any of that here.”

“Fortunately for us, once a body has been sprayed with salt, it can’t be possessed again,” she added.

“How many bodies are here tonight?”

“Twenty, including Doctor Salvatierra now,” Genna replied. “Though only his is fresh.”

Suddenly they heard pounding in the air duct. Then it collapsed with a loud crash, and the doctor’s body fell out.

The man who in life had been a kind and helpful mentor now looked terrifying.