Julian jammed Clara’s blue carbon custody stub and the typewriter ribbon spool deep into his scrub shirt pocket.
Behind him, the freezing steel tray of Morgue Drawer Thirteen screeched on its ball-bearing runners.
Dr. Victor Tallow thrashed against the cold metal slab. The yellow-raincoated shadow of the Customer Without a Face had dragged the seven-foot surgeon flat onto his back, but the monster’s yellow wax hands clawed at the rim.
Hot grease sizzled where his fingers scraped the frosted steel.
“He’s trying to sit up!” Elena yelled, planting her rubber boots against the wet floor. “Get on the door, Julian!”
Julian hit the stainless-steel door with his full weight.
Elena threw her shoulder against the panel beside him. Together, they drove the seven-foot tray backward into the wall.
Clack-clack-clack.
