“Oh shit!” Michael whispered as he leaped off the bed. Just as he’d feared, Mura was standing in front of the open refrigerator with a hand clasped over her mouth. Her expression was one of pure horror.

Inside the refrigerator, Sart’s frozen, pale face was framed haphazardly by stacked containers.

Michael rushed to Mura’s side and enveloped her with his arms. She sagged against him and would have collapsed had he not been supporting her.

“Listen! Listen!” Michael urged in a forced whisper. “I can explain.”

Mura regained her balance and pulled herself from Michael’s embrace. With a trembling hand she reached into the refrigerator and felt Sart’s cheek. It was as firm as wood and as cold as ice. “Oh, no!” she moaned. Cradling her own drained cheeks with her hands, she shivered as if a cold wind had suddenly wafted through the room. When Michael tried again to put his arms around her, she shoved him to the side to keep Sart’s face in view. As frightful as the image was, she could not turn away.

Frantically Michael bent down, retrieved the fallen objects, and crammed them back into the refrigerator to block her view of the dead boy. “You have to calm down,” he said nervously.

“What happened to his essence?” Mura demanded. Blood surged back into her face turning her cheeks crimson. Shock and dismay were turning to anger.

“It was an accident,” Michael said. “He fell and hit his head.” Michael reached for her again, but she backed up to keep him at arm’s length.

“But his essence?” Mura questioned again, although deep down she already knew the horrid truth.

“Look, he’s dead, for chrissake,” Michael snapped.

“His essence is lost!” Mura managed. Her fleeting anger was already giving way to grief. Tears welled up in her emerald green eyes.

“Look, baby,” Michael said in a tone halfway between solicitude and irritation. “Regrettably, the kid is dead. It was an accident. You have to pull yourself together.”

Tears turned to sobs as the reality of the tragedy struck the core of Mura’s own essence. “I must go and tell the elders,” she said. She turned and started toward the door.

“No, wait!” Michael said. He was frantic. He rushed around to head her off. “Listen to me!” He grabbed her with both hands.

“Let me go!” Mura cried. She tried to break from his grasp. “I must announce the calamity.”

“No, we must talk,” Michael insisted. He grappled with her as she tried to free herself.

“Let go!” Mura yelled, her voice rising through her sobs. She got one arm free.

“Shut up!” Michael shouted back. He slapped her across the face with an open palm, hoping to snap her out of her hysteria. Instead, she opened her mouth and let loose an earsplitting scream. Fearful of the consequences, Michael clapped a hand over her mouth. But it was not enough. Mura was a tall, strong woman, and she twisted from his grasp, letting out another cry.

With some difficulty Michael got his hand over her mouth again, but no matter what he tried, he could not keep her quiet. Impulsively he dragged her over to the deep end of the pool and launched them both into the water. But even the sudden dunking did not contain her screams until he forced her head beneath the water’s surface.

Still she struggled, and when he brought her up for a breath, she let out a cry as loud as any previous. Again Michael pushed her under the water, and this time he held her until her violent flailing slowed, then ceased.

Slowly he eased up on the grip he had around her head, afraid she’d suddenly rear up and yell once more. Instead her limp body slowly bobbed to the surface, her face submerged.

He pulled her body to the edge and lifted her onto the pool’s marble lip. A foamy mixture of mucus and saliva issued from her nose and slack mouth. As he looked at her and realized she was dead, a shudder passed down his spine. His teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. He had killed someone-someone he cared for.

For a moment he stood perfectly still. He wondered if anyone could have heard Mura’s screeches. Thankfully, the night was still. In a panic, he dragged her over to the bed, laid her alongside, and pulled the coverlet over her. Then he ran past the pool and out into the night.

Richard’s cottage was no more than fifty yards away, and Michael covered the distance in seconds. He pounded on the door.

“Whoever it is, go away!” Richard’s voice commanded from within.

“Richard, it’s me!” Michael shouted.

“I don’t care who it is!” Richard yelled back. “We’re busy in here.”

“It can’t wait, Richie,” Michael insisted. “I got to see you.”

A string of expletives preceded a short silence. Finally the door was pulled open. “This better be good,” Richard growled. He was buck naked.

“We got a problem,” Michael announced.

“You’re about to have another one,” Richard warned. Then he noticed that Michael was sopping wet. “Why’d you go swimming with your clothes on?” he asked.

“You gotta come with me back to my cottage,” Michael stammered.

Richard noted the degree of his friend’s anxiety. Richard glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the women were close enough to hear. “Does this have something to do with Sart’s body?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Michael said.

“Where’s Mura?”

“She’s the problem,” Michael said. “She saw the body.”

“Oh, Christ!” Richard moaned. “Is she upset?”

“She went ballistic on me,” Michael said. “You gotta come!”

“All right! Calm down. So she really got psycho?”

“I’m telling you, she went completely crazy. You gotta get your ass over there.”

“Okay already,” Richard soothed. “Don’t shout! I’ll be over in a few minutes. I’ll have to get rid of my friends.”

Michael nodded as Richard closed the door in his face. Turning around, he sprinted back to his quarters. After checking to make sure Mura’s body was where he’d left it, he changed into a dry set of clothes. Then he paced up and down the room, waiting for Richard.

True to his word, Richard arrived in less than five minutes. He scanned the room the moment he stepped over the threshold. Everything looked peaceful enough. He half expected to see Mura sobbing uncontrollably on the bed, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Well, where is she?” he demanded. “In the bathroom?”

Michael didn’t answer. He motioned for Richard to follow him and walked around the end of the bed. Reaching down with a shaky hand, he grasped the corner of the coverlet and whipped it aside to expose the corpse. Mura’s previously translucent alabaster skin had become a mottled blue and the foam oozing from her mouth and nose was tinged with red.

“What the hell?” Richard gasped. He knelt down and felt for a carotid pulse. He stood back up. His face was slack with shock. “She’s dead!”

“She opened the refrigerator,” Michael explained. “She saw Sart’s body.”

“All right, I understood that,” Richard said. He stared at his friend. “But why did you kill her?”

“I told you, she went crazy,” Michael said. “She was screaming bloody murder. I was afraid she was going to wake up the entire goddamn city.”

“Why the hell did you let her open the refrigerator?” Richard demanded angrily.

“I wasn’t watching for two seconds,” Michael said.

“Yeah, well, you should have been more careful,” Richard complained.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Michael snapped. “I told you I didn’t want the body over here. He should have been in your refrigerator, not mine.”

“Okay, calm down,” Richard said. “We got to think what to do.”

“There’s no more room in my refrigerator,” Michael said. “She’s got to go in yours.”

Richard wasn’t wild about dragging the body over to his place, but he couldn’t come up with an alternate idea, and he knew they had to do something quickly. If Mura was found, then Sart would be, too. One way or the other he’d be involved.