Page 59 of No Man's Land

Josef kept staring at the little brass plaque, but in his mind’s eye he was back at that dressing station again. There, the only distinction that mattered had been between the living and the dead. Third class? “Are they fuckingjoking?”

Alex touched his shoulder. “I know, but there’s not much time. Come on.”

As it turned out, the first-class mortuary was only one door along, and after about twenty minutes of muttered cursing, Alex got it open, and they slipped inside.

Black as pitch, once the door closed behind them, and Josef had to force back the sudden panicking clutch of claustrophobia. Scrabbling at his torch, he switched it on again and swept the beam across the room. Like the rest of the building, it was modern and gleaming. On the far side were the drawers which housed the dead, enough to store six bodies until the next train ran to the cemetery. And on a table in the middle of the room sat three coffins, closed. Presumably, they were for those taking their final journey in the morning.

“He must be in one of these,” Dutta said, crossing the room quickly.

Josef followed, the hair on the back of his neck creeping up. Something was catching in his throat, a memory, or a hint of that dreadful death stench.

“What are you going to do?” he whispered.

Dutta glanced at him. “What must be done, of course.” In the dark, something gleamed dully in his hand, and Josef realised the man had drawn a gun.

“Does that work?” he asked. “Against a ghoul?”

“No,” Dutta said in that supercilious voice of his. “But it works against infected men, before they fully turn.”

“With luck, it won’t be necessary,” Alex said as he fished in his pocket and pulled out a handful of change, sorting through it and pocketing everything but a sixpence. “If we’re in time, a silver coin under the tongue will keep the infection from turning him.”

Josef looked at him. “And if we’re not in time?”

“Then we’ll have a fight on our hands.” He lifted his walking cane. “Hold this, will you?” he said and threw it to Josef.

It was heavier than Josef expected, a comforting weight in his hands. “All right then,” he said. “Get on with it.”

“Bring your torch,” Alex said as he moved carefully towards the coffins.

Josef followed on legs heavy with dread. Suddenly, powerfully, he did not want Dutta to lift the lids on those coffins.

“Can’t we just lock it inside?” he whispered as they drew nearer. “It’ll be buried tomorrow.”

“If burial could contain a ghoul, don’t you think we’d have collapsed the tunnels under no man’s land and dealt with the lot of them?” Dutta peered at the first coffin, his face oddly lit by the harsh electric light of the torch.

Alex said, more quietly, “Ghouls are at home underground—it would easily escape the coffin. And then it would thrive; cemeteries are their natural habitat.”

“Natural habitat.” Dutta gave a soft snort. “Shepel, bring the light closer.”

Josef did so, playing the beam over the lid of the coffin Dutta was examining. An ornate brass plaque announced the name of the Honourable Eleanor Woolsey-Banks. The second belonged to Thomas James Milton, OBE.

Josef’s heart kicked as he read the plaque on the third coffin: Major Anthony Asquith Giles. “That’s him,” he whispered.

Dutta only nodded, then bent over and pressed his ear to the top of the casket. Listening for sounds inside, Josef realised with a creeping horror. Straightening, Dutta circled the coffin, running his fingers beneath the lid, looking for the catch to unlock it.

Fuck.

The torchlight wobbled, and Josef realised he was shaking. He tried to take a steadying breath, but the death-stench was stronger now, and it caught in his throat, making him cough.

Alex looked over. “All right?”

Josef nodded, then realised Alex might not be able to see him properly, so he whispered, “Fine and dandy.”

His only answer was the click of the locking mechanism releasing. Dutta moved to the foot of the casket, reached over, and swung the coffin lid open. It moved silently, without the eerie creak Josef had been expecting.

Nothing happened.

Only silence.

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