Part 1: The Laughter Inside the Morgue

The freezing air inside the county morgue seeped straight through Cristina Alvarez’s gloves and into her bones, but the cold wasn’t what made her suddenly step backward in fear.

Lying side by side on the steel examination table were the bodies of two ten-year-old twin girls who had been pronounced dead only hours earlier.

“Doctor… did you hear that?” Cristina whispered shakily, her wide eyes fixed on the children. “That sounded like… laughing.”

Across the room, veteran medical examiner Dr. Frederick Hayes slowly looked up from the paperwork in his hands. Decades spent around death had hardened him to almost everything, but the panic in Cristina’s face immediately caught his attention.

“What exactly do you think you heard?” he asked calmly.

Cristina swallowed hard while the silence inside the autopsy room pressed against her chest like weight.

“It sounded like children laughing.”

Frederick straightened slowly and glanced toward the two little girls lying motionless beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.

“The only children in this room are those twins,” he replied carefully. “And trust me, Cristina, they have no reason to laugh. First days inside a morgue can play tricks on your nerves.”

Trying desperately to believe him, Cristina nodded and stepped closer to the examination table again. The girls looked strangely peaceful, almost as if they had merely fallen asleep.

Frederick recognized the fear immediately. Every new intern arrived believing they were emotionally prepared for death until they actually stood beside it.

“Are you sure this is the career you want?” he asked more gently now. “Most people don’t last long in this profession. Cases involving children are especially difficult.”

Cristina clenched her jaw firmly.

“I want to help people who can’t speak for themselves anymore,” she answered quietly.

Frederick gave a tired nod before lifting a small evidence vial containing pale pink liquid.

“This was found beside their beds,” he explained. “Every sign suggests poisoning. Healthy twins don’t suddenly die together for no reason.”

Cristina’s stomach twisted painfully.

Who could possibly hurt two innocent little girls?

Frederick pulled on surgical gloves and reached for the scalpel resting beside the tray.

“Help me position the first child.”

Cristina carefully adjusted one twin’s small arms while trying not to notice how cold the girl’s skin felt beneath her fingertips. The room became silent again except for the low hum of fluorescent lights overhead.

Then, just as Frederick lowered the scalpel toward the child’s chest, Cristina screamed and stumbled backward.

“She moved!”

Frederick exhaled sharply.

“Postmortem spasms happen occasionally,” he explained impatiently. “Muscles can twitch involuntarily after death. You’re letting fear control your imagination.”

“No,” Cristina insisted breathlessly. “Her hand touched mine.”

Trying to calm the situation, Frederick stepped closer to the table himself. He checked the child’s pupils first.

Nothing.

Then he pressed his hand carefully against her chest.

And froze.

Color drained slowly from his face.

Without speaking, he lowered his ear closer to the girl’s tiny body.

Heartbeat.