The Perfect Corpse

by Giles Milton

  Another warning light flashed up on ALP’s screen. Current 93.2F. Current 94.1F. Current 94.5F. Current 94.6F. Current 94.8F. Patient approaching optimum temperature.

  Danger.

  Danger.

  System override. All systems switch from standby to high alert.

  A slamming noise. Then a clunk. Twenty or more lights were blinking on ALP’s control panel. The thermostatic warning light flashed to 95F - DANGER - and all hell broke loose.

  The defibrillator, the ventilator, the massive shots of dioximyde, the entire laboratory sprung violently into action, each machine focused on injecting life into the long dead body.

  Jack kept his eyes focused on the face of the corpse. This was more exhilarating than any of his experiments with the death masks. As the light flashed 95F the face was transformed. The pain was tangible. Before, it had been rigid, immobile, locked up like a statue. But in the space of a second the mouth and eyes were lifted into a mechanical wince. It was scarcely noticeable at first, but then it was suddenly much sharper, as a piercing thump slammed into his chest.

  You could see the acute discomfort, even though he was still a corpse. It was as if molten steel was spilling through his body, an explosion jolting his innards, wrenching his bones and stretching his ribcage. His chest was jerking uncontrollably, as if two invisible fists were pumping it up and down.

  ‘Stop. Stop it right there.’

  They’d all noticed it. The left eyelid of the corpse had dropped open. It was 00.06:34.

  ‘Almost there -’ There was nervous excitement in Tom’s voice. ‘Moving towards lift-off.’

  The quality of the footage was still poor, but if you looked closely you could just make out the liquid being siphoned through the various tubes and pumps. And then, without any prior warning, the corpse gave a series of violent twitches and its second eyelid flipped itself out of the glue.

  A gut-wrenching spasm pushed him downwards, deep into the gurney. And then his entire body shuddered.

  ‘Jesus -’

  Tom looked at Perez. His fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles gleamed white.

  Slowly and with great effort the left arm of the corpse raised itself from death. It rose to just above the level of his chest, then fell heavily across his face. As it did so it knocked the tubes from his nose. They clattered noisily to the floor.

  Manual removal of ventilator tubes. Cut oxygen feed.

  ‘He’s breathing -’ Tammy whispered into the room.

  They watched his face as he gasped in reflex. He was clutching at the air, just as he would if he’d burst upwards from deep under water. There was panic, but only for a second. Then he let out a long exhalation. Soon after, his chest could be seen rising and falling.

  And now his right arm was moving, but also in slow motion. It was half-numb. It also swung across his chest and knocked away more of the drips.

  Manual removal of dioximyde feed. Cut flow from feeder.

  ‘Huh -’

  Tammy let out a gasp.

  ‘Look - look -’

  His fingers twisted slightly, as if in a cramp, then clutched at the pads on his scalp. In one motion he ripped them violently away.

  Manual removal of electro-encephalograph.

  The five of them watched the screen in silence. The footage was moving frame by frame, jolting forwards at quicker speed.

  ‘Huh -’

  The corpse was starting to move. It was coming to life.

  It was mechanical at first, a machine that was cranking into action. But when they watched it for a second time later that day, they realised it was the slow-frame mode of the play-back that made his movements look mechanical. He was actually moving more smoothly and naturally than they could ever have expected.

  He struggled to lift his head from the gurney, like it was a block of concrete. Slowly he drew his elbows towards his chest. He pulled in his arms, clenched his fists.

  Alert, system malfunction. Alert, system malfunction.

  His mouth twitched then extended itself into a yawn. A second or so later, in another shudder, his body pushed itself into a prolonged stretch, more natural than the first.

  ‘Holy shit.’ Tom was whispering under his breath. ‘The resurrection of the dead.’

  When he finally started to lift himself up, he did so in a single fluid movement. He used his arms to raise his body from the gurney. He lifted his legs a fraction. Then, growing in confidence, he swung them towards the floor. He sat upright but unsteady, his head uncomfortably lolling on his neck. He looked dizzy. Drunk. Jack noticed one hand clutch at the edge of the gurney to steady himself.

  ‘Left handed. ’

  His head swung like a heavy ball, lopsided, as he looked around the lab. He lifted his hands to his eyes, rubbed them. It was as if he was wiping away the disbelief. He clutched at his neck, his chest, his groin. He tugged briefly at his penis, like a toddler in the bath. And then, with a shove from both arms, he propelled himself onto his two feet. He was unstable at first. Even on the CCTV footage you could see the unsteadiness.

  Tammy gasped.

  ‘He’s going to fall.’

  But he didn’t. He clasped at the dialysis machine, eyeing it suspiciously. He shook his head. A cloud seemed to fall from his eyes. And then he turned so that the left side of his body was facing the camera.

  Jack turned to Hunter.

  ‘Pause.’

  Hunter stopped the shot in mid-frame.

  ‘What - ?’

  ‘Can you enlarge the image?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Hunter played with the keyboard.

  ‘Can you focus?’

  He pointed to the ice man’s chest.

  ‘Focus there. Closer. Closer.’

  The more Hunter enlarged the image, the less distinct it became.

  ‘What is it?’

  Tom was frustrated. He couldn’t see anything.

  ‘That,’ said Jack, pointing to the dark patch under the ice man’s arm, ‘is the tattoo of a human skull.’

  Tom looked at the tattoo on screen. He glanced at Perez. Then he told Hunter to put the laptop back to full screen mode.

  Hunter hit the play button again and the ice man turned to face the camera, just for a moment. He was unaware his face was framed centre screen. The quality was poor but you could see steel in his eyes. He looked down across the lab, lifted his arm. Then he swept files, syringes and boxes of swabs to the floor. A half smile as he surveyed the destruction he’d wrought. And then he suddenly stopped. His eyes had sighted on something.

  ‘What’s he seen?’

  Tom stared hard at the screen.

  ‘What is it?’

  Hunter paused the film.

  ‘Tammy - ? What’s in that box?’

  She moved closer to the screen, peered through her glasses.

  ‘That’s the sodium thiopental.’

  Perez turned to her.

  ‘What’s sodium thiopental?’

  Tom answered. ‘Numbing agent.’

  The ice man could be seen picking up the carton, examining it carefully, then putting it down for a second. He did the same thing twice. Then he looked round at the other items in the lab, inspecting the machines and twisting the dials.

  He caught sight of himself in the mirror on the far wall and seemed to notice he was naked. Then he looked around for a second time before disappearing into the adjoining room.

  Tom sighed. ‘Shit. Out of shot.’

  But after a pause of a few seconds he reappeared in the picture, now dressed in a white lab coat.

  ‘Not so stupid.’

  Perez turned to face Tom. ‘Brain’s most definitely not shot to shreds. You said his brain would be shot to shreds.’

  Jack was thinking the same. ‘He’s behaving as any sane, rational person would do. He’s naked. He wants to cover up -’

  Tom raised his hand. ‘Look. He’s noticed the door. He’s going out.’

  They watched the ice man walk out of camer
a shot. It was 00.12:56. It had taken just six minutes for the machines to bring him back to life.

  The click of the latch and he was gone. The picture on screen was of the empty lab, littered with detritus, lights winking and the voice of ALP talking blankly to the room.

  Alert, system malfunction.

  *

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  It was as if they needed to digest the miracle they’d just been watching. Jack was struck by how natural it all seemed. There had been no moment of crisis, as there so often was in intensive care. No moment when it looked like everything was tipping towards emergency. The perfect corpse had been brought back to life in perfect fashion. It had worked like clockwork.

  Tom addressed them in a hushed tone. There was muted excitement in the trembling of his voice.

  ‘This footage, d’you realise? It’s priceless. It’ll earn us millions. Imagine the syndication. Every goddam channel in every country in the world is going to want this.’

  Hunter nodded in agreement.

  ‘Can it be cleaned up? Sharpened?’

  Perez jabbed his finger at the laptop.

  ‘You can edit the fuzz. We do it all the time. But you need a professional and it takes -’

  ‘For Chrissakes,’ cried Tammy, turning to him accusingly. ‘Kingston’s dead. Murdered. Slashed to pieces. And all you give a shit about is your fucking TV footage.’

  Tom swung round to face her, ignoring what she’d just said.

  ‘What’s the time?’

  She checked her cell phone. ‘Eight twenty-two.’

  ‘Can you call Carla? Right away. Tell her not to come in till later. We need to remove Kingston’s body. Need to get his room cleaned up.’

  ‘What do I say?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘Dunno. Think of something. But not what’s happened. Do not tell her about Kingston.’

  Hunter was fiddling with the laptop, trying to link it wirelessly to the looped CCTV in Kingston’s office.

  Jack looked at Tammy. ‘Sure you want to see this?’

  ‘Can’t be much worse than what I’ve already seen this morning.’

  ‘True.’

  The single camera in Kingston’s office was set high above the door. It was focused on the electricity control panel and the cupboard that housed all the codes giving access to various areas of the building. But Kingston’s back was clearly visible, along with the screen of his computer.

  Tom shifted his chair nearer to the laptop.

  ‘Let’s start it a few minutes after midnight.’

  Hunter forwarded the footage at double speed until he reached 00.04:00. And then he hit play. Kingston was seated in front of the computer, back to the camera. He was watching what looked like Fox TV. The sound was loud - there was the noise of canned laughter - and Kingston was dipping into a bag of Natchos. A bottle of Dr Pepper, half drunk, sat on the desk next to him.

  Perez watched impatiently. ‘Let’s fast forwards. Move to twelve after midnight.’

  At exactly fourteen minutes after the hour a slight shadow fell across the footage.

  ‘Stop the film.’

  Jack pointed to the screen.

  Kingston was still seated in the same position and appeared not to have noticed anything.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Hunter.

  ‘See that shadow. That’s him opening the door a fraction.’

  It lasted only a few seconds. And then the lighting returned to how it had been before.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Tom’s voice was hoarse. It sounded as if he’d just woken up. ‘What’s he up to?’

  Jack told Hunter to switch back to the lab camera. ‘He’s going back to the lab. Just you watch.’

  Hunter changed screens. According to the numbers at the bottom it was 00.14:59.

  ‘Play -’

  The lab was empty, silent, strewn with equipment. And then, at 00.15:08 you could hear the door open on its hinges. The ice man intruded back into the picture, still in his white surgical gown.

  You could see him quite distinctly. He walked over to the low table next to ALP.

  ‘My God.’

  Jack whispered under his breath.

  ‘This guy’s smarter than we thought.’

  ‘What - ?’

  The ice man could be seen picking up the box of sodium thiopental, opening it slowly. He withdrew a capsule and held it up to the light, like a doctor examining its contents. Then he placed it carefully back on the table and looked around the lab once more.

  Tammy stared at the screen, perplexed.

  ‘What’s he doing?’

  ‘Just wait.’

  Jack watched, appalled. He’d seen Hitchcock. He’d seen all his movies. But this was altogether more disturbing. The ice man crossed the room, picked up a hypodermic syringe. He carefully removed its plastic cap and dropped it unwanted to the floor. Then he stuck the needle into the phial of sodium thiopental and sucked up its contents.

  Tom glanced at Perez. Both of them were unsure as to what he was doing.

  The ice man moved back towards the door, helping himself to a scalpel. He slipped it into his pocket. Then he moved out of shot.

  Perez murmured under his breath. ‘See him take the scalpel? That’s your murder weapon.’

  Jack looked at Hunter. ‘Okay. Can we switch back to Kingston’s office?’

  Hunter connected to the other footage.

  The scene was just as before. Kingston, back to the camera. Natchos. Dr Pepper. Still watching TV, although no longer Fox channel. It looked like he’d switched to TMZ. And at exactly 00.17:47 that same slight shadow fell across the footage.

  ‘It’s him,’ said Jack. ‘Look. He’s entering.’

  There was no noise of the door opening, no squeak of the hinges. You could hear Kingston chuckling to himself. Something on screen was making him laugh. He clutched the bag of Nachos, helped himself to a handful. Some of them dropped on the floor. And then his arm extended outwards as he reached for the Dr Pepper. He undid the plastic capsule. Fizz.

  The darkish shadow hung over the room. Kingston had not yet noticed it.

  Tammy was gripping her seat.

  ‘Turn around,’ she said out loud. ‘For Chrissakes turn around.’

  She felt as if she was watching it live, as if Kingston was in the next room, as if he would hear her speaking, if only she spoke loud enough.

  ‘Turn around.’

  Kingston was shaking with laughter. Something he was watching was funny. You could hear his deep throaty laugh.

  ‘What’s he watching?’

  ‘Springer.’

  The screen blurred slightly. Kingston leaned forwards in his chair. As he did so the shadow darkened. Tammy placed her fingers over her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to watch.

  But it didn’t turn out at all how they were expecting. Jack alone had seen it coming.

  An arm flashed into view, the arm of the ice man. He plunged the needle deep into Kingston’s back, squeezed hard on the syringe. Kingston flexed slightly, backbone arching upwards. Then he jerked himself forwards, an involuntary jerk, as if in reaction to the sharp bite on an insect. He slumped forwards onto his desk, knocking the computer keyboard to the floor.

  Tammy uncovered her eyes.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  Jack turned to her.

  ‘He’s cleverer than we thought. He’s injected him with the sodium thiopental. Knocked him out. And now -’

  But even as he spoke, the ice man could be seen looming back into view. He stood over Kingston, pushed his limp body to the floor. Then he began removing his clothes. First he pulled off his shoes. Then his trousers. And then, moving round to the other side of his body, he raised Kingston upwards slightly in order to pull his arms from the sleeves of his jacket. He worked fast. By the time the on-screen clock reached 00.18:00 Kingston was naked, apart from his underwear.

  They watched the ice man walk over to the door, once again out of shot.

 
‘He’s putting the clothes in the entrance area so they won’t get covered in blood.’

  And then he reappeared once again, large against the camera. He knelt down next to the unconscious Kingston, took out the scalpel from his pocket. He carefully unwrapped the blade from its metallic pouch.

  It was appalling to watch. Kingston was unconscious, unaware of what was about to take place. The ice man seized Kingston’s head and twisted his neck to one side. It was facing away from him. Then he took the scalpel in his left hand.

  ‘No -’ Tammy cried.

  One deft movement of the wrist. A fountain of blood traversed the room. It sprayed in an arc across the walls, tracing a thick red line. A drop hit the camera lens, leaving a dark blob on the screen. It was 00.19:38, the moment of death. Seconds later the ice man could be seen turning the body over and gouging a crude human skull into the skin on Kingston’s chest. It took him less than a minute. And then he was gone. The camera was locked onto a scene of horror. It was rendered all the more surreal by the picture’s greenish hue.

  *

  Perez checked the time on his phone. Almost nine o’clock. The ice man had already been on the loose for more than eight and a half hours.

  ‘Need to catch him. And soon. Before he does any more damage.’

  He paused for a moment, still thinking about what Jack had said about the tattoo. Then he brushed his hand through the air, as if to dismiss the very idea.

  ‘Don’t give a damn who he is,’ he said abruptly. ‘All I care is where he is.’

  Jack shook his head. He was thinking exactly the opposite.

  EIGHTEEN

  They moved Kingston’s body into a vitrification box and set the thermostat to just below freezing. It gave them time to decide what to do with him.

  ‘Sure he’s got no family?’ asked Perez.

  Tom nodded.

  ‘Sure. Only an old mother. Lives in some home in Reno. And she’s halfway to the clouds. Kingston isn’t our problem right now.’

  They went back to the lab to settle on a plan of action. Perez shifted Hunter’s laptop towards him and clicked on the keyboard, staccato-fingered.

  ‘We’ve got a killer on the loose,’ he said, stating the obvious. ‘Priority number one, find him. And fast.’