The security guards looked at him, confusion painted on their faces. “What are you talking about?” one of them asked, trying to process his words. Nathan’s pulse raced, his panic escalating. “Please! Just go to the morgue! They’re—black shadows—stealing stuff!” His voice was on the edge of hysteria, and desperation rang in every word.
Finally, something in his panic seemed to ignite their response. The guards exchanged glances, then sprang into action. One grabbed a radio, instructing others to head toward the morgue. Nathan, still breathless and wild-eyed, followed them as fast as he could, his feet stumbling beneath him.