Then ten.
All talking at the same time.
All repeating the same phrase:
—She shouldn’t wake up.
The light from the morgue flickered.
Once.
Twice.
And it went out.
In complete darkness, Camilo shouted:
—Doctor!
Fonseca turned on the flashlight on his phone.
The beam of light ran through the room.
The stretcher was empty.
The nun who had been dead…
had disappeared.
And on the steel table there was only one last phrase written in blood:
“NOW YOU KNOW WHERE THE DOOR IS.”
The morgue was silent.
A silence so deep that Fonseca could hear his own breathing.
The flashlight on his phone illuminated just a few meters.
The stretcher was empty.
The nun had disappeared.
Camilo remained motionless by the door, with one hand on his chest.
—Doctor… Tell me you saw it too.
Fonseca did not respond.
He slowly approached the stretcher.
There were no signs that anyone had moved the body.
No blood.
No footprints.
Not even a wrinkle on the sheet.
Just that phrase.
NOW YOU KNOW WHERE THE DOOR IS.
Fonseca ran a finger near the letters.
They were still wet.
—Camilo.
—Yes?
—Don’t call the police.
The young man looked at him in disbelief.
—How not?
—Because if those people outside are who I think they are, calling the police is not going to help us.
—And what are we supposed to do?
Fonseca raised the black key he had found in the habit.
—Let’s go to the convent.
