The Interrupted Autopsy
“IT WAS JUST A DOG BITE,” Dr. Morrison’s voice said.
“So, why did he die?” Dr. Worthing asked.
They spoke in hushed tones. Dr. Clempta listened and wondered why he couldn’t see them. He was laying on a cold, hard surface. Who they were talking about?
“Poor Dr. Clempta,” Worthing mumbled.
Clempta tried to sit up. He tried to open his eyes. He tried to tell them he wasn’t dead.
Something drew a cold line from shoulder to sternum on both sides of his torso, and one long line down to his pubic bone, he screamed inside telling them he was alive. In his mind, he bucked and knocked the doctors away, but really, he lay still in the icy room, panic gripping his insides and twisting them together.
“I’m hungry,” Worthing said. “Should we break for lunch?”
“Break?” Morr
