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William thought smelled of bacon grease and fat people.
    Michael began to smile when he saw what his brother was up to. They had done this kind of thing before.
    A somber black-and-white sign loomed straight ahead of them. It was backlit. Sorel Funeral Home.

Chapter 18

    THE BACK door to the funeral home took William less than a minute to crack open. It wasn’t a problem since security was minimal.
    “Now, we feed,” he said to Michael. He was starting to get excited, and his sense of smell led him to the embalming room. He discovered three bodies stored in the refrigerators. “Two males and a female,” he whispered.
    William quickly examined the bodies. They were fresh. Two had been embalmed, one hadn’t. William knew about necrology, including what went on in funeral homes. The embalming process involved draining blood from the veins, then injecting a formaldehyde-based fluid. Tubes connected to pumps were inserted into the carotid artery and the jugular vein. The next step involved emptying the internal organs of their fluids. After that, much of the work was cosmetic. The jaws of the dead were wired shut. The lips were arranged and sealed with some kind of glue. Eye caps were placed under each eyelid to prevent the eyeballs from sinking into the head.
    William pointed to a centrifuge, which was used to drain bodies of blood and other fluids. He laughed. “We won’t be needing
that
tonight.”
    All his senses were heightened. He felt larger than life. His night vision was excellent. Nothing more than the illumination from a table lamp would be needed.
    He opened a refrigerator and took the unembalmed body in his arms. He carried the corpse, a woman in her early forties, to a nearby porcelain table.
    William looked at his brother and gently rubbed his hands together. He took a deep breath. They had raided funeral homes before, and though it didn’t compare to a fresh kill, prey was prey.
    Besides, the dead woman was a fairly good physical specimen for her age. She was attractive and compared favorably to the female they had attacked and fed upon in San Francisco. There was a name tag on the body:
Diana Ginn
.
    “I hope some funeral director didn’t have Diana first,” William said to his brother. Pathetic geeks sometimes took jobs at funeral homes so that they could ravage the dead at their leisure. They’d do unnecessary searches into vaginal and anal cavities. Another kinky pastime was to have sex with the dead in a coffin. It happened more than people could imagine.
    William found that he was excited. There was nothing to compare to this. He climbed up onto the embalming table and poised himself above the woman.
    Diana Ginn’s naked body was ashen, but pretty enough in the dim light. Her lips were full and blue. He wondered how she had died, since she didn’t look sick. There were no obvious wounds. She hadn’t been in an accident.
    William carefully pried open the eyelids, looked into her eyes. “Hello, my sweet girl. You’re beautiful, Diana,” he whispered dreamily. “That isn’t just a cheap pickup line. I mean it. You’re extraordinary. You’re worthy of tonight, of Michael and me. And we will be worthy of you.”
    He let his fingers lightly graze her cheeks, then the woman’s long neck, her breasts, which weren’t pert now but more like sacks of pudding. He studied the intricate lines of her veins. So beautiful. He was almost dizzy with lust for Diana Ginn.
    While William crouched low over the body, his brother lightly stroked the woman’s bony feet, her thin ankles, then slowly, lovingly moved his hands up the long legs. He was moaning softly, as if he were trying to waken her from the deepest sleep.
    “We love you,” Michael whispered. “We know you can hear us. You’re still here in your body, aren’t you? We know, Diana. We know exactly how you feel. We’re the undead.”

Chapter 19

    I CONTINUED to be impressed with the tremendous discipline and hard work of Jamilla Hughes.