The silence was deafening as I pulled back the curtain. My heart hammered in my chest — I had expected a coffin, perhaps even a body. But what lay inside made the blood drain from my face.
There were several coffins, all identical, stacked neatly. But they weren’t made of wood. No. They looked like metal containers, sealed shut, humming faintly as though something inside was… alive.
I took a step back.
“What is this?” I demanded, turning my gaze to the driver.
He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the road behind us. “Officer, please… you don’t understand. I can’t explain. They’ll come for me if I speak.”
My hand instinctively went to my holster. “Either you explain now, or we both find out together.”
Slowly, I pressed my hand against one of the metal lids. It was ice cold, yet vibrating softly — like a heartbeat.
Then came the sound.
A faint knock. From the inside.
My throat tightened. That was no ordinary cargo. Whatever was in those containers… it was awake.
The driver’s voice broke, trembling with fear:
“They told me… they told me I was just transporting the dead. But these… these aren’t dead at all.”
And in that moment, one of the coffins shifted, jerking violently, as if something inside was fighting to get out.