“You’re scared.”

  “No. I’m just hungry.”

  I fumbled with the needle and knelt next to him, staring at his offered forearm.

  My first human blood.

  I wondered what it would taste like.

  I wondered how it would make me feel.

  I wondered if, once I started, I’d be able to stop.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Fritz asked, not even a trace of concern in his voice.

  “I’m looking for your median cubital vein, in the crease of your elbow.”

  I ran my fingers along his skin, feeling for the bump that I’d read should be there.

  “I like you touching me.”

  “Shh. I’m concentrating.”

  I placed the point of the needle at the proper angle—

  —and jabbed it in without any hesitation.

  His blood immediately began to curl up through the clear tube, showing me I’d gotten it right on my very first try. Before it leaked out the end I brought it to my lips.

  When it hit my tongue…

  Bliss.

  The next few minutes were indescribable. It was like a missing part of me had been returned. I closed my eyes, and swished it around in my mouth, and felt like I was ready to run a hundred-meter dash and at the same time ready to fall into peaceful sleep.

  I may have zoned out, because the next thing I knew Fritz said, “How much are you drinking? I’m feeling drowsy.”

  I quickly took one more slurp, then pulled out the needle and pressed my finger on his arm to stop the bleeding.

  “You look happy,” Fritz said.

  I licked my lips. “I am happy.”

  “You sure love blood a lot. That should be your nickname. Blood.”

  “You should have a nickname too.” I was bursting with energy, bursting with ideas. “Glass?”

  Fritz shook his head. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

  “Really?” I’d never had a friend before.

  “Really. And if we’re friends, I should have a nickname that meshes with yours.”

  “What is it you like?” I asked. “Other than hurting people, and biting?”

  “The monster that visits me at night sometimes. It eats people. I think maybe I want to eat people too. So let’s call me…” He smiled, his eyes focusing on something far away, or something deep inside of him. “…Flesh.”

  END FLASHBACK

  Flesh gripped Rita’s corpse under the armpits and awkwardly manhandled her over to the gurney, plopping her on.

  He then went to Larold’s vault, while I inspected the damage to Rita.

  Flesh had eaten most of her face, living up to his nickname. Her skull kind of resembled an apple half-devoured by wasps.

  I strapped Rita down so she didn’t fall off, and Flesh hauled Larold to her, balancing him on top of her. I noticed Flesh had cut a few steaks out of Larold, and remembered the time he invited me over to try human meat. I didn’t care for it raw. Too chewy. But properly tenderized and seasoned, and cooked rare, it wasn’t bad. It didn’t rejuvenate me like blood did, I but could see why it appealed to him.

  Flesh used the overhead hose, which was attached to a retracting spring and hung from the ceiling, to give himself a quick shower while I put a sheet over the bodies. We both dressed in record time, not bothering with underwear or socks, and then pushed the gurney out into the hallway with a specific destination in mind.

  “You brought the key?” I asked.

  “Of course. I have all the keys.”

  “They’re going to rot. The odor will attract people.”

  “Don’t worry, Blood.” Flesh winked at me. “We’re going to stick with the plan and kill Jack and her friends tomorrow. Then we can return Rita and Larold to the morgue. Once they’re bagged, no one ever checks the bodies.”

  “And how about the little girl?” I asked. “Samantha? Do we still want to risk it?”

  “In the midst of chaos, there is opportunity.”

  I recognized the quote. “If you love Sun Tzu so much, you should marry him.”

  “I always assumed that someday I’d marry you.”

  I blushed a little at that.

  Flesh pressed the issue. “Can you even remember the last time you drank a child’s blood?”

  “Not since I was a child myself.”

  “And I’ve never eaten anyone under the age of eighteen. I bet she tastes like veal.”

  “Three people dying in a hospital might not even make the news,” I said. “But a missing little girl will for sure.”

  “I know taking her will be a risk. But the biggest risks have the biggest rewards. Never venture, never win. Are you with me?”

  Of course I was. FABFROD.

  “Flesh and Blood forever,” I said. “Ride or die.”

  “Flesh and Blood forever. Ride or die.”

  HARRY

  Do you know what I miss most?

  Recess.

  I never liked school. Believe it or not, I didn’t have a lot of friends. Or really any friends. Plus I always had trouble learning stuff, probably due to my recently diagnosed mind’s-eye blindness thingy, whatever Sam called it.

  But I loved recess. It was designated break time. No responsibilities. No requirements. No costs. No worries. You would eat your state-issued lunch because your foster family would never pack one for you, and then you could go outside and do absolutely nothing at all.

  Those were the days.

  But adulthood? You never got a break from that. Vacations had to be planned, and paid for, and then you were always concerned you weren’t having enough fun to justify all of the planning and expense. Plus, I never really remembered my vacations, because of my inability to recall images. I knew I went to Hawaii. I had pictures to prove it. But I couldn’t close my eyes and see the sun setting on the beach in Oahu.

  I couldn’t remember recess, either.

  But I know it was the last time I really felt at peace.

  “Isn’t recess the best, Sam?” I asked her.

  “I don’t go to school. I have to video chat.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I agree. Recess was the best.”

  “Sometimes I think you don’t listen, Uncle Harry.”

  “What was that?”

  “Sometimes I think you don’t listen.”

  “Hmm? Did you say something?”

  Sam giggled. Progress. Or maybe resilience. If I’d just encountered a maniac making the morgue his personal buffet, it would have taken a while before I started giggling again.

  “Have you ever been scared, Uncle Harry?”

  “Me? Nope. Never. Being scared is for weak little babies.”

  “What was the worst scare you ever had?”

  “The very worst?”

  “Yeah.”

  I raised my artificial hand. “A woman tied me to a chair and cut off my fingers, one by one, stopping the bleeding with a blowtorch.”

  “Wow. That’s how you lost your hand?”

  “It is. Ask your dad. He was there.”

  “He was?”

  “He sure was. And even though I was crazy afraid, he helped me get through it. He helped me escape. So did your mom. When you have friends, it makes life less scary.”

  “I haven’t made any friends since we moved to Colorado.”

  “Harry Jr. is your friend, right?”

  “Yeah. We’re chill.”

  “And I’m your friend, too. Even though you stink like a skunk that crawled in an elephant’s butt and died and then he pooped out the skunk and the skunk sprayed right on your butt.”

  She giggled again. “That’s what you stink like. Except the skunk was also covered in barf.”

  “I hate to break this to you, princess, but if anyone in the hospital room smells like an elephant butt fart poo poo dead barf skunk, it’s you.”

  She laughed even harder, and when she stopped she said, “You’re lucky.”

  “Because I don’t smell as malodorous as you do?”

  “Because you have aphantasia. You don’t remember that woman hurting you.”

  I nodded in agreement. “That’s true. I can’t even picture her face.”

  “When I close my eyes, I see that fake Kertis man in the morgue. I can’t stop seeing it.”

  “So don’t ever close your eyes again.”

  “I have to close my eyes,” Sam giggled.

  “We can cut off your eyelids so you can’t close them.”

  “No!” she laughed even harder.

  “I’m going to tell you a story. About a little boy who used to be scared of the dark. He was so scared of the dark he couldn’t sleep, and he’d stay up all night, freaking out. Then the next day he’d go to school and fall asleep in class, and all the other kids would make fun of him and pick on him because he couldn’t stay awake. Do you know who that kid was?”

  “Was it you, Uncle Harry?”

  “No. It was this dumb kid named Stanley who I went to fourth grade with. I was the one picking on him.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I’m a dick.”

  “Is there a point to this story?”

  “Not really.”

  “Seriously?”

  “There’s no point to anything, Sam. We live, we die, we decompose.”

  “You don’t believe in an afterlife?”

  “Die-hard atheist.”

  Sam was quiet for a moment.

  “Maybe you helped Stanley,” she finally said. “When he was in bed at night, he was afraid for no reason. But you gave him something to really be afraid of.”

  “I don’t think I helped him. When Stanley grew up, he went crazy, and started stalking little girls.”

  Her eyes got wide. “Really?”

  “Really. He would sneak into their rooms and hide under their beds with a belt sander and OH MY GOD IT’S HIM!”

  I pointed under Sam’s bed and she squealed with delight. I kept teasing her, describing how he was going to start his belt sander and sand both of our faces off, until Sam finally leaned over the side of the bed and checked for herself.

  “You are kind of a dick,” she decided.

  “Life is full of things to be afraid of, Samantha Adams Troutt-Daniels. You’re going to be scared of things. You’re going to be hurt by things. And someday you’re going to die. Just like everyone who has ever lived. We can’t avoid it. But we can decide how we’re going to face it.”

  After a moment of quiet she said, “I love you, Uncle Harry.”

  “I’m not really your uncle.”

  “I know. But I love you anyway.”

  “If you love me, promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “If Stanley comes in, you distract him so I can run away.”

  We both chuckled at that.

  “I hope Mom and Dad are okay,” Sam said.

  “Me, too. Now shut up so your Uncle Harry can take a power nap.”

  “Really? You’re going to go to sleep?”

  “I’m going to try, if a certain little girl would shut her big, loud, stupid mouth.”

  “What if fake Kertis comes in while you’re sleeping?”

  “Then you know what to do.” I winked at her. “Distract him so he doesn’t get me.”

  I closed my eyes, focusing on the blackness, because that was all I could focus on.

  But it wasn’t so bad.

  SAM

  I tried closing my eyes, and I saw fake Kertis again.

  Uncle Harry told me I should face what I was afraid of, but how was I supposed to face something that scary?

  Uncle Harry wasn’t there. He didn’t see what I saw.

  It wasn’t as bad as getting all your fingers cut off. But it was still pretty bad.

  I really didn’t want to close my eyes.

  “Uncle Harry?”

  “Sweet Tasty Jesus in a frosted cupcake, child. What part of power nap didn’t you understand?”

  “Can you see your dreams?” I asked him. “With aphantasia?”

  “Yes. And they’re the most beautiful things ever.”

  “Why are they so beautiful?”

  “Because in my dreams, all annoying little kids have their mouths sewn shut so they can’t talk.”

  That was pretty funny.

  But I was still scared.

  “I’m still scared, Uncle Harry.”

  “That’s because you’re a scaredy-cat chicken crybaby.”

  I coughed. My chest was feeling a little better, but my headache was worse.

  “Calling me names isn’t helping.”

  “That’s because you’re a butt-hurt safe-space snowflake whose entire fragile generation gets offended by everything.”

  “I’m not offended. I’m scared because people keep trying to kill me.”

  “Can’t you distract yourself? Your phone is literally a supercomputer.”

  “I’ve been on my phone all day. I need to talk to a person.”

  Uncle Harry sighed, really really loud and dramatic.

  “You ever see the movie Aliens?”

  “Yeah. Dad says Mom reminds him of Ripley.”

  “Ripley’s hotter. Remember the whiney little girl? Newt? The one who was scared of everything and spent the whole movie running and hiding and being a huge burden on everyone?”

  “I liked her.”

  “Whatever.”

  Uncle Harry reached into his bedside drawer and took out his key ring. After a few seconds, he threw something to me. Something small and square.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A key finder.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It finds your keys. Duh. It’s right there in the name.”

  “I don’t have keys.”

  “You’re the keys, stinkybuttpants. Tie it around your neck, and we can find you using a phone app. Like Ripley found Newt in the movie. That way if fake Kertis grabs you, we can find you before he eats all of you.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Harry.”

  “Don’t thank me. Fake Kertis will probably eat both of your arms and legs before we get to you.”

  “Cool.”

  “Cool? How is that cool?”

  “Then I can have robot parts. Like you do.”

  After a moment, Uncle Harry said, “Actually, that does sound pretty cool.”

  I hung the key finder on my sterling silver necklace. Mom said I could have a 14k-gold necklace for my birthday if I could wear the silver one for a whole year without breaking it.

  I really wanted a gold necklace, more than anything.

  I managed to stay quiet for a whole minute, but then I started getting scared again.

  “Were you really a bully to Stanley?”

  “Of course not. Bullies are assholes. Don’t be a bully by keeping Uncle Harry awake when he’s so tired.”

  I wanted to let him sleep. I really did.

  But fake Kertis wouldn’t get out of my head. I kept seeing the blood in his teeth. Hearing those munching sounds.

  “Uncle Harry?”

  “I’m getting my needle and thread to sew your talk-hole shut.”

  “How am I supposed to face things I’m scared of?”

  “Because if you don’t face them, they’ll kill you and everyone you love. And that’s even scarier.”

  That made sense.

  I closed my eyes and saw fake Kertis again.

  He was still really scary.

  I didn’t turn away. I faced him.

  But I wondered what I would do if I saw him again for real.

  JACK

  Back in my younger, poorer days, I had a 1983 Chevy Nova. I’d put a lot of miles on that car, and as a result it had its share of mechanical issues. One time it was a leaky radiator that announced itself during a road trip, and the car could only go so far before overheating. When it overheated was guesswork on my part, but I knew inevitably the car would stall, because it wasn’t functioning at full capacity.

  That’s how I felt about myself and Phin. We were damaged, and we were going to break down. Just like I shouldn’t have been risking a long journey with my old car, we shouldn’t have been tempting fate by chasing a psychopath.

  We simply weren’t up to the task.

  But just like my younger self and that clunky car, I refused to let that stop me. Which was problematic. Because I wasn’t only endangering myself. I was endangering my family.

  I knew the physical aspect of our diminished capacity was even worse for my husband, who equated testosterone with self-worth. But I was also having cognitive issues.

  I wasn’t catching stuff I should have been catching. Clues that would have been obvious to me even before I became lieutenant had been eluding me.

  While Phin prided himself in how much he could dead lift and how many people he could beat up, I prided myself in solving cases.

  And I felt my mental game was as slow as my physical game.

  So the two of us heading into the morgue wasn’t the wisest idea. But down we went, buoyed by pride and stupidity, to find the monster who scared our daughter.

  After the elevator spat us out at the basement level of the hospital, Phin wheeled himself out first. I noted he was bleeding through his arm bandages, and I’d also been off my morphine drip for a while and the pain in my arm was making my muddled thought process even more muddled. Because Phin wasn’t moving very fast, Elroy held the door open for me, which was a kind gesture but it also meant the only healthy person among us was heading last into the lion’s den.

  Basements in buildings were odd beasts. Windowless, undecorated, and containing all of the ugly utilities needed to supply water, temperature control, and power, they were the perfect setting for horror films. This one was made even creepier by Sam’s harrowing experience, and a flickering overhead light that reminded me of a Halloween haunted house.

  “Morgue is around the corner. Funky monkey dunker!”

  As we crept along, I asked, “How long have you worked here, Elroy?”

  “I just got my five-year bonus.”

  “You like it?”

  “Yeah. The staff accepts me. No one stares anymore. Tough to fit in, with Tourette’s.”

  “Thank you for helping our daughter.”

  “No problem. She’s a smart kid. Talking to her was like talking to an adult.”