Pounds of Flesh
The dead body sat in the middle of the playing field, looking like a pile of rags melting into the ground. Zorn saw it and stopped jogging, thinking it might be a drunk student passed out after a night’s partying. Why hadn’t his friends dragged him back to campus?
“Topher, look,” he said.
Topher stopped a few feet away, jogging in place.
“Quit making excuses and run, you slug. You’ll never survive this place in your condition.”
“No, really.”
Topher rolled his eyes and looked, squinting against the sun rising over the campus.
“I’ll be damned.”
The smell hit them at the thirty-yard line. It reminded Zorn of the time the meat freezer in his parents’ basement died. He and Topher pulled their shirts up over their noses and came to a stop on either side of the pile. Ther
