Summary: A crime scene, a kidnapping, and a brilliant if not insane surgeon make for one hell of a night for the unlikely trio of Greg, Hodges, and David. Unfortunately, no one involved will ever be the same.
Based off the events of The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey, which is a bloody brilliant book. It is highly recommended to anyone who wants something bloody and gory, and is a very good read. One of my favorite books ever.
Prelude: The Crime Scene
Hodges despised field work with all his being. Or, at least, as much of his being as he could muster on his third shift in a row and counting.
He called Nick over to pick up a piece of evidence he found while Greg continued to stare dumbly at the pair of bodies. At least, what they assumed to be a pair of bodies.
The slab of concrete was much too wide to be only one person, overlapping each other in a strange thought-to-be embrace, the much taller and larger figure with a strange-looking hole in its chest. It looked as if someone had gouged out the abdomen and taken the entrails somewhere else.
In Las Vegas, there were plenty of concrete-encased bodies. There were also plenty of people missing a good portion of their abdominal area. He supposed that the two together was nothing special, even though Sanders seemed to think differently. He continued to stare at the bodies with a strange mixture of horror, curiosity, and dread.
"You okay, Greggo?" Stokes asked the younger CSI, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "Just thinking about something. Nothing really important, though."
"You sure?" Something about the Texan's tone made Hodges believe that he wasn't buying it.
"Just tell me when David releases the body, Nicky," he said. "I just have to… think about something."
Reluctantly, he nodded and they went separate ways. Hodges shrugged, soon forgetting about the entire exchange.
Greg whispered a curse, turning over the champagne bottle in his hands. Thinking about those two bodies made his hands tremble with anxiety. God, if he was wrong about this, he could lose his job, not to mention his life, but if he wasn't…
He was wrong about this whole thing, he was sure. It was just his imagination running away, his mind playing tricks on him. There was no way that jagged hole could be… they couldn't have come to Nevada. If they had, someone would have noticed. This wasn't 1888. This was the 21st century.
But still, he couldn't shake that undeniable feeling of dread building in the pit of his stomach.
It was sometime after midnight when David showed up.
"It looks like someone tried to chip away the cement," Nick offered, finding a notch of exposed skin.
"Looks like it," David agreed. "They hit the person pretty hard. If he was alive, there would be blood all over this thing. But I've never seen a hole like this before: it's nearly perfectly symmetrical. And these…" He pointed to the jagged edges of the hole. "They look more like teeth than broken skin.
"Anyway, these guys are dead. I'd take a sample to see if Mr. Toothy here is human or not."
Not amused, Nick took out a swab and forced it into the small hole before pocketing the blood sample.
"Any theories?" David asked, trying to get the CSI's mind off of his unsuccessful joke.
"Nah, but I think Greg has one," he told the coroner. "He was acting all weird earlier when he saw the body. I think he might be on to something."
"I'm gonna take the bodies to the Crime Lab now. Somehow," he added, grimacing at the thick slab of concrete. Nick only laughed.
"Hey, Greg wanted to see the body before you left," he said. "I'll go get him real quick."
He could do this. He could totally do this. It was so easy: the rock was right there in his hand, so seemingly innocent, even though it was to be used for malicious purposes.
Seeing one of the safety strips of a CSI vest flash, he descended further into the shadows, hoping not to be seen until it was too late. The person approached where he hid, unaware of the impending danger.
The person was within striking distance; he shifted. He brought the rock down onto the person's head. Nick Stokes saw stars in his eyes, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was none other than Greg Sanders with a bloody rock in his hand.