"Hey, I'll take some of your homebrewed beer Bartender!" yelled a half drunk man off the ways. The bartender nodded and walked in the back through the swinging doors. He pulled up his sleeve and grabbed a chilled glass from the silver freezer. He hated his job, and everyone who came into this damn booze joint. He stuck the mug under the faucet that was attached the thick barrel about a good 6 feet across, and 8 feet high. It rumbled as it churned its alcohol-contents inside the ancient wooden container. The bartender turned the hexagonal handle and out came the beer. He turned away for the slightest second and looked back and he gasped.
In the amber colored liquid was flesh, swirling along with the froth. He brought the mu g up to eyelevel and in the bottom of the cup, was a human finger. He let out a scream and dropped it instantly, running out of the joint.
"What the hell?" Asked a patron as he walked back behind the bar. He gasped and grabbed his cell phone, calling the police as he saw bones and flesh pouring out of the still open faucet.
"Hello? Yeah, uh, I'd like to repost a body?"
"Where is the body?" Asked Booth, unceremoniously to the police officer. He flashed his F.B.I. badge and waved Hazel and Brennan in. The officer sniffed and pointed to the barrel.
"We haven't opened it yet. Our chief said to wait for you guys." He said in a thick southern accent. His bright red hair trickled from under his cap in an awkward way.
"That was good; you could have damaged the body. It's been in this for an unknown length of time, and it could cause even more flesh to come off." Brennan said, half to herself. Hazel nodded and walked carefully to the barrel, pushing the thick glasses up on the bridge of her nose. She snapped on her gloves and moved a stool to reach the top of the keg.
"Here, Haze, let me." Booth said, lifting her gently off the wooden seat and placing her back on the floor, where she scowled. He then beckoned to Brennan who joined him up, helping him to lift the top off.
"Wait, be careful, please! Who knows the kind of build up is on there…" Hazel said softly. Booth nodded and brought out his pocketknife, and then started to scrape off the crust the encircled the top. Brennan bit her lip and pulled her gloves on tighter.
"Got it!" Booth said with personal triumph. He grabbed the sides and yanked. "Whoa!" He covered his nose and backed off the stool. "Oh my god! Who die-…Never mind." He corrected. "Jeez, the smell of fermenting beer and a dead body!" Hazel looked at him and rolled her eyes, stepping up next to Brennan.
"Well, it's definitely a male, younger than…oh, 20 years. That probably puts him at…17-ish?" Hazel wondered out loud. Brennan looked sharply.
"Yes, exactly, but this needs to be tested, just to make sure." She said swiftly. "Will someone please get us a stretcher, or…a crew? We need this body out for testing!" She yelled. A few men came over to the barrel with a stretcher and protective gear. "Be careful, this body has been in liquid, which has the tendency to allow the flesh to come off easier…" She reminded them.
"Well, I reckon I will take samples for Hodgins." Hazel said to Booth, who nodded half heartedly. He waved her off. "Glad you agree." She replied.
"Oh gosh! What's that STENCH!?" Cam asked, her lip curling.
"That, is the glorious smell of yeast working on creating the crude drink called beer, as well as dissolving flesh from human bodies." Hodgins said proudly. He worked over the microscope intently while he streaked a Petri dish with the yeast found in the beer.
"I see," she sighed. "And what are you doing? I didn't know you had clearance to use Hazel's things."
"I didn't. She left her door open." He grinned. "Besides, her microscope is so much better than mine. I thought she wouldn't mind helping her old friend a bit." Cam shook her head and pursed her lips, stalking off to find Hazel before he could do something dangerous with it. Not that there was a lot to do with a microscope, but in the hands of a man who so desperately wanted to be known even posthumously, as the king of the lab, there was nothing good to come of this.
"Ah, Dr. Saroyan, good thing you are here. We would like to show you our findings." Wendell said professionally. He pointed to the single wound in the chest. "This here was created by something blunt, but not sharp. It seems to have run his through. He is a teenage male, about 5 feet and 7 inches tall, with an approximate weight of 160 pounds." He smiled broadly.
"Yes, well, we have cause of death. But, who is he?" Cam asked Hazel and Wendell. Angela walked in the room carrying a panel she used for her art.
"This is the facial reconstruction." She said, showing off the panel. The face was thin, but determined with shaggy blonde hair and a square jaw. He could have been handsome, but had many flaws. "You see, he was not the type you would see in the bar." She pointed out.
"Who would see a teen in a bar? He hasn't got a drinking license or whatever." Hazel replied.
"Well, sweetie, neither have you." Angela said. She chuckled as Hazel scowled.
"I am just not that interested in drinking." She said stiffly to her.
"Only because Booth came home drunk once and got sick." Angela said. They all knew she had a deathly fear of getting ill, whatever the cost.
"Exactly! I can't possibly consume alcohol. This assignment has been terrible on a personal level already, and we hardly even started!" She said, her shoulders quivering. She put her hands on the table to steady them and Angela put an arm around her.
"Haze, you've got to relax, or you're going to lose it. When was the last time you slept properly?" She wondered.
"Three days." Hazel sighed as she continued to work on the body.
(Thanks for reading! I just need two reviews to continue! As soon as you do so, I will post the premade chapters. I will wait!
~Alice)