A/N:  Hi all!

I know the last chapter wasn't up to snuff (coughITSUCKEDcough), but it's like that for a reason.  *evil grin*  Yes, Rook is the comic relief of sorts.  He's not doing a good job, but oh well, that's Rook for ya.

Because I won't be here for a period starting this weekend, I shall bequeath unto you, the readers, 2 new (longer) chapters by the end of the week.  As in, FRIDAY.  That oughta satisfy yer appetites.  If I get the chance to write while I'm gone, then bully for me.

Hopefully I'll play SH2 while I'm gone…and if I get enough out of the chars and storyline, you can probably guess where this story will go.  *grin*

I expect many reviews by my return.  Don't let me down.

Cheers,
~Rumer

Autopsy Report: Chapter Four


The basement area of Alchemilla Hospital reminded me of catacombs.  Dank, dark, and overall creepy.  And this is coming from the tough-as-nails forensic pathologist.  Considering that I got scared when I saw Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (the original black 'n white version), it's amazing that I'm in the profession I'm in.  Oh well.  When I get scared of something, I shoot it.  Most people stand aside and let themselves get killed.  These are the two types of people who react to fear: Kill the source or kill yourself.  You can guess what I am.

Dr. Ling led us down the dimly lit corridor to the morgue.  After a few moments she stopped in front of a door with a window made of clouded glass.  Give the dead a little privacy.  Considerate.  Dr. Ling fumbled around in her pocket for a second before coming up with a silvery keychain with God knows how many keys on it.  She selected an old-fashioned chrome key and inserted it in the keyhole.  The door creaked open, and we stepped inside.

There were several empty gurneys out of their respective freezers.  Waste of cold air.  Most freezers were closed, but only one was locked.  Bingo.

Dr. Ling took another key from the almighty keychain and unlocked the freezer that I pondered about seconds ago.  Trying to avoid looking at another burn case for as long as possible, I skirted the room and put the gurneys back in the freezers, taking my own sweet time.  By the time I was done, the offending gurney had been rolled out, a body bag placed on it.  They had waited for me.  Shit.

"Are you finished, Dr. Devereaux?" Dr. Ling said in an impatient tone.

"Quite."  I walked slowly to the slab and held my breath-I could smell the burnt flesh through the heavy plastic.

"Before we begin-" Rook tossed me a lab coat that was several sizes too large, rubber gloves, and a mask.  He was already decked out and ready to go.  Good ol' Rook, ready for anything.  The model Boy Scout.  I donned the too-big coat, gloves and mask, and took a deep breath.

"Let's take a look at her, shall we?"  I noticed my hand starting to shake.  I shoved it into a pocket.

"Let's."  Dr. Ling slowly drew the zipper down the bag and flung it open.

"Holy shit!"  I gasped.  The corpse was completely and totally burned.  I couldn't even tell if it was a woman.  Being the sick-minded person I am, I had to wonder how Dr. Ling came to know what it was.  I decided I didn't want to know.  Fanning at my mask, I approached Dr. Ling.  "If you'll just get us a tray of utensils and vials, you can go.  We'll take it from here."  She nodded and left the room.  She returned a moment later with a tray of surgical tools and an assortment of different jars and syringes.  "Thanks.  You can leave now."  She left, closing the door behind her.  Smart woman.

I hadn't even noticed Rook.  His expression almost made me laugh.  He looked like he was trying to decide whether to throw up on the tiled floor in here, or try to make it to the bathroom and then throw up.  Too bad the nearest bathroom was on the next floor.  He'd have to wait.

"Now then, let's see what we have."  I took a scalpel and probe from the tray.  Rook reluctantly took a syringe.  Before started my work on the world's most sunburned citizen, I let Rook take the blood sample.  Good, the blood he took looked normal.  "Rook, go ahead and get that analyzed.  You said yourself you didn't like my job; go away and do yours."

"Thank you, Doctor…"  He practically bolted from the room, leaving it open.

"Shut the door!"

"Sorry!"  Rook came back, slammed the door, and took off down the hall.

I chuckled to myself.  Rook would never make it in this profession.

I turned back to the spokeswoman for Kentucky Fried Corpses and made a midsagittal incision from the head of the sternum to the navel.  I made several more incisions, thankful that this skin wasn't tough or thick, but delicate and flimsy.  Apparently the fire made her more fragile in death than in life.  I still didn't doubt that she was weak in any sense.

Suddenly, I thought I heard someone crying.

I looked up from my work and glanced around the room.  A child…that's what it sounded like.  A child weeping.

The sound left as abruptly as it came.  I felt a chill, and as a sense of slight paranoia crept into my mind I hunched over the corpse again.  I had to cut through the remains of a men's tie.  Either this was a very ugly man on estrogen medication or just a very confused (and still ugly) woman.  I decided on the latter. 

Then I heard it again.  A child crying.  I looked up again, but saw no one.  So, feeling thoroughly paranoid now, I returned to my work.  I finished my incisions and decided to open her up.  I took two pairs of rat-toothed forceps and slowly spread the flesh apart.  A wave of flesh-smelling steam hit my face, making my eyes fill with tears and my stomach shudder.  I turned away and coughed violently for a few moments before I looked at her innards again.

There was nothing.

The only thing inside of her was just a bunch of soot and ash.

I shook my head and took a few steps back from the gurney.  No way, I told myself.  There is no way that this can happen.  It wasn't spontaneous combustion; there would be nothing left but ash altogether.  I don't know…

I looked at the corpse's face.  In life, she had worn what looked like several pounds of makeup, most of it now melted to dribble down her high cheekbones.  Her mouth was contorted in a silent scream, and her glassy brown eyes stared up at the ceiling endlessly.  But she was burned.

Like hellfire was loosed upon her…

Then I heard the crying again, louder.

"Screw it," I said aloud.  "Whatever's crying had better have a good reason for interrupting my work and scaring the shit out of me, or I'm gonna give it a real reason to cry."  I wasn't scared or paranoid anymore, just royally pissed off.  I stormed out of the morgue and down the hall.  The crying got louder.  It seemed to wail as I passed the storeroom, so I stopped and pressed my ear to the clouded glass window.  Yep, the crying was coming from in there.  I tested the doorknob; unlocked.  I went in.

I snapped on the light.  It illuminated a rather large room, full of odds and ends.  Shelves piled with surgical instruments; desks and chairs piled up in a corner, and a large bookcase directly across from me.  Something strange caught my eye-skid marks.  There were skid marks next to the bookshelf, like it was dragged to hide something.  Or just a really poor mover who probably got his ass chewed out when the administrator found the grooves in the would-be perfect tile.

The crying was emanating from the bookshelf.

I pulled the bookshelf away from the wall and looked inside.  There was a set of staircases.

"Uh uh, Kira," I said aloud, "You know you're not supposed to go down there.  You don't know what's there!"

The crying got louder.

I went down the stairs.

The second I hit the landing, I saw a pit in the middle of the room.  Well, not really a pit, but another staircase leading down to blackness.  The dark.  I shuddered.  I hated the dark with a vengeance.  So, playing the resourceful scientist, I doubled back to the storeroom, found a flashlight, and went back down the stairs and into the darkness. 

The flashlight played on several doors when I got to the ground.  I tried them one at a time, working my way up the small corridor.  They were locked.  The crying seemed to get to an almost screaming pitch.

Finally I got to the last door on the left side.  The crying abruptly stopped.

I jiggled the handle-and found it unlocked. 

Oh, no, Kira…You don't want to do this…You want to go back upstairs…Don't do it…Please don't…

I went inside.

The first thing I saw was a dead body.

~~~

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