“All right. What clothes did he take?”
“Dude had a black leather jacket and some busted ass jeans. That’s all I seen, man.” Roman wrote the description in his notepad. “What direction was he headed in?”
“I don’t know, man. I saw that shit going down, but it happened real fast. Next thing I know the guy is gone. Sorry.”
“That’s OK,” Roman replied. He reached into his wallet and removed a business card. “If you think of anything, you call me. Alright?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever, man.” He took the card and sat back down on the curb, taking another drag off of his cigarette.
Roman walked over to the body and did a cursory examination. Sure as shit, no clothes. Who steals a homeless guy’s clothes? He looked around for Seebolt and spotted him by his car, on his cellular phone. Roman put on a fresh pair of latex gloves he retrieved from his inside jacket pocket and, being careful not to touch the victim, traced an outline with his finger around what appeared to be a large bite mark on the throat. This is no animal, unless a bear is on the loose in the middle of the city, Roman thought to himself. Damn, two cases already. Welcome to the new understaffed homicide.
“Let us know when you are finished, detective.” A short Asian female spoke from behind Roman. She was holding a rather expensive looking camera. Another female behind her carried two pelican cases in either hand.
Their windbreakers both stated “Forensics” vertically on both jacket sleeves Roman stood up and moved away from the body. “Don’t mind me, do your thing.”
Roman was suddenly distracted as his cellular phone started to vibrate in his pants pocket. He turned and walked away, just as the Forensic tech began to take pictures.
“Is this Detective Johnny Roman?” The voice on the other end of the cellular phone asked.
“Yeah, who is this?” Roman replied, as he lit a cigarette. Roman stepped under the yellow police tape and walked towards his car to get some privacy.
“Ok, this is Maynard Fontenot, coroner tech. We met briefly this morning,” the reply came over the cellular phone.
“Yeah, ok. What can I help you with? You looking to pick up another body before the crime scene is processed again?” Roman replied with a hint of sarcasm.
“Ok, sorry about that. This is a little serious. I’ll get to the point. The body was released to me not long after you left. I transported the deceased to the Coroner’s Office. I just started to prepare the body for autopsy for the coroner, nothing out of the ordinary, just logging property and prepping the body.” Maynard paused and sneezed hard into the phone, causing Roman to pull it away from his ear.
"Uh, ok right." Maynard resumed, "I think you should come down here. I have something you should check out; maybe it will help you in your case, ok?”
“I am not the lead detective on this one, Doc. You have the wrong guy.” Maynard came back on the phone after a brief pause. “I know, but I can’t get a hold of anybody else right now. This is serious. Your dispatch patched me through to you.”
Roman suddenly seemed invigorated with curiosity and he asked, “Do you think the wounds were caused by an animal?”
“Animal? Possibly. But this is something way above you or me. Just come down here and check it out.” Maynard seemed to be getting a little antsy.
“Just tell me on the phone.”
“I really think you need to see this. I don’t really want to explain this over an unsecured line, ok?” Roman could now detect a bit of panic in Maynard’s voice.
“Yeah, ok,” Roman replied. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.” With that, Roman ended the call. He headed towards Seebolt, who was engaged in an apparently heated conversation on his cellular phone. He stood around for a few minutes eyeing for an opening. Seeing Seebolt pause on the phone, he took his opportunity. “Detective, is it ok if I follow up a lead on my own? I want to head down to the Coroner’s Office and compare the wound marks of the first vic.”
Seebolt put up his hand, and turned to face Roman. He nodded his head in approval and resumed his conversation. Roman ran to his car and got inside. The engine roared to life and he hit the accelerator
When Dr. Keitel left the crash site, he made a simple reconnaissance of the area. His conclusion was that further testing could commence. He had the bulk of his equipment with him in the crashed shuttle, and the surrounding neighborhood was devoid of heavy traffic and curious onlookers. Upon returning to the crash site, he found the shuttle door removed forcibly from the shuttle, lying on the ground. His creation was nowhere to be found. Dr. Keitel worried that he would not be able to survive without his care, even though he had shown learning, strength, and adaptation that he had not anticipated. On the plus side, he could conduct a field study to determine how quickly his creation was able to integrate itself in its new surroundings, as well as test the survivability of his re- engineered body. To do this, however, he must first find his creation, and he must keep it supplied with the necessary regenerative solution.
Dr. Keitel entered the storage container and retrieved two syringes filled with the pink compound that was essential to keeping his creation functional away from its fixed life support equipment. He placed the syringes in his pants pocket and made some last-minute adjustments to the crude laboratory he had set up. He had located a chair out in the junkyard and quickly affixed links of chain to be used as restraints. He had set up two computers, each connected to a large control box. Snaking from the control box were the many cables and electrodes that would need to be attached and inserted into the body to effectively monitor any anatomical and physiological changes. He was satisfied with the setup of his equipment; the only thing missing was his patient.
Back inside the crashed shuttle, Dr. Keitel gingerly descended downward toward the main control console. The shuttle still had power. He began to take sensor readings and was pleased to locate a source of high heat moving slowly, not that far away from his location. With some creative engineering, he devised a way to fabricate a crude but effective tracking device. One by- product of his experiment that Dr. Keitel had noted was the intense core temperature generated by his patient. Up to this point, it had been virtually impossible to sustain dead organs for long periods of time, but science had perfected many replacement limbs and organs. The war wounded many soldiers and civilians, many critically. Evolution in the research and production of artificial limbs and organs enabled the recipients to survive, albeit forever dependent on their newfound source of life. His patient was no different. Instead of just one limb or organ, however, virtually all internal organs had to be replaced, and this was unprecedented. Replacing the majority was a risk, but for the longevity of the patient, it was worth the risk. These synthetic organs and limbs were fueled by their own power source, and as such they gave off heat. This heat had to be removed from the body, and an exhaust port was created in the lower abdomen. As long as this port remained functional, heat levels could be brought down rapidly, especially when connected to equipment designed to enhance the cooling effect. The bigger problem was the brain. It was too complex to replicate or synthesize. Keeping the brain at an optimum temperature was essential in controlling his test subjects. The other test subjects registered minimal brain activity or none at all, resulting in a painful death all over again. This one was different. In order to regenerate dead soldiers so that they could fight as they had been doing before, they needed brain function, and they needed their former knowledge and abilities. They were of little use if they could no longer fight and follow orders.
Before the research base had been attacked and overrun, Dr. Keitel’s staff had made startling discoveries about what happened once the solution interacted with dormant blood. Once the solution was administered, the blood began to change, almost taking on a parasitic quality. The solution began to combine on a cellular level with the red blood cells. Once this occurred, the new red blood cells consumed the white blood cells and platelets, behaving like a virus. These new super cells began to multip
le rapidly and grow in size. Subsequent blood tests showed the new cells were resistant to traditional viruses. A curious by-product was that the blood took on a black color, and its viscosity was increased tenfold. That was where the research was terminated. Dr. Keitel salvaged what he could in fleeing from the lab; his most fortunate souvenir was his most advanced patient
The initial test subjects had been criminals and prisoners of war, and they had proven to be abject failures. The laboratory testing room was full of corpses. Although they initially showed positive results in regeneration, they were completely devoid of thought and eventually ended up in a comatose state, with most ended up dying within an hour of injection. This one, however, was different. The solution Dr. Keitel devised and administered prior to the research facility being overrun seemed to be succeeding. Why did it work on this one subject and not the others still mystified him although he had a theory. Not only did the body successfully regenerate itself, but the brain followed suit, becoming reactivated, allowing the thought and learning processes to effectively become “turned on” again. This test subject had been a successful soldier before he met his demise. Perhaps his past training and will to simply survive allowed him to persevere and learn at an accelerated rate.
His patient had been a frontline special assault soldier and had partaken in numerous behind-the-lines operations. Soldiers like this were trained for years in the art of war. When he was killed in action, his body was immediately flagged for research and development. Dr. Keitel had convinced the military authorities that highly trained soldiers were critical for his experiments if he was create a solution that could effectively render deceased soldiers fit for duty again. He now realized he was correct. Not only had the solution worked in rejuvenating dead tissue, it also would allow the soldier to once again think independently and be returned to the front. Dr. Keitel expected to be forever immortalized in the annals of science for his research. One major problem remained: Those that could help him had no idea where he was, and that he was currently stranded because of the wrecked shuttle.
Dr. Keitel finished constructing his tracking device and emerged from the crashed shuttle. The device was a little larger than he had anticipated, but it would serve its purpose. Fortunately, according to the device, his patient hadn’t traveled too far. He checked his pocket for the two syringes filled with the pink solution and ensured he still had his pistol in the back of his pants. He set off as fast as he could, letting his tracker show him the way.
After about ten minutes, he arrived at a large gathering. Vehicles with flashing blue and red lights and several uniformed persons were in his path. Numerous heat signatures were now pinged on his scanner. Narrowing it down would be difficult now. His patient would have to wait a little longer.
Dr. Keitel watched as a corpse was enclosed in a black bag and loaded into the rear of into a large white vehicle with the words “County Coroner” displayed prominently on the sides. He saw enough to determine it wasn’t his test subject. An obese man loaded the victim and entered the front of the vehicle. After a few minutes, the vehicle departed the area.
Dr. Keitel’s patient was operating completely on its own, which was significant. Obviously it felt threatened and fled. Self-preservation was taking over. Dr. Keitel had not yet decided how long he would allow it to remain free, but he had to bring it back soon. He considered this a test, and his subject passed. As the white vehicle rounded a corner and left the area, Dr. Keitel realized that he needed to examine that body himself before anyone from this planet was able to. If his subject had been responsible for this murder, he needed to determine cause of death. Was it savage and barbaric, like an animal? Or was it precise and quick, like an ex-military professional? He realized he couldn’t chase the vehicle on foot. The tracker was emitting a barely audible beeper. A simple view screen with displayed a direction and estimated speed. He hadn’t the faintest idea how he would be able to catch up to it until a yellow painted vehicle with the word ”taxi” written on the door slowly approached. He waved towards the driver. As the taxi pulled over, he fingered the pistol in his waistband.
“Beginning Y- shaped incision,” the coroner dictated. “There is no visible evidence of chest trauma … HEY! You are not supposed to be in here!” The tape recorder fell to the sanitized tile floor with a loud crash.
“Don’t do anything foolish,” Dr. Keitel told him, aiming a pistol at his head. “I know how to use this. I implore you to drop your scalpel. We have much to talk about and very little time.”
The coroner slowly lowered the bloody scalpel onto the corpse lying on the examination table. He raised both hands in the air. His name tag read “J. Jewell, M.D”
“Are you alone here?” Keitel asked.
“My assistant will return any minute. You will never get away with whatever you are trying to do,” Dr. Jewell said. With one hand, he lowered his surgical mask and took off his plastic safety glasses.
“Oh, I think I will. But as of right now, I can’t have you conducting any examination on that body that was just brought in. You have a means of transportation outside, correct?”
“Yes-s. A b-black Mercedes,” Dr. Jewell stuttered.
“Good. I am going to conduct a cursory examination, then we will walk outside slowly, and you are going to drive. If you alert anyone, I will kill you and them as well.” Dr. Keitel retrieved his tracking device from a bag he had slung over his shoulder, and gave it a quick glance. The machine registered 100.1 degree body temperature of the recently brought in corpse, rather than the 98.6 degrees of this planets inhabitants. Now he could dial in an exact heat signature rather than relying on a heat range.
“Sit down and don’t move,” Dr. Keitel said as he motioned with this pistol to a nearby chair. Dr. Jewell sat down. Dr. Keitel moved over to the next examination table. His eyes immediately gravitated to large gaping neck wound. It was savage and beastly, definitely not the work of a skilled assassin. Either this wasn’t caused by his patient, or it was and his patient was resorting to some kind of animalistic behavior.
A chime went off in the room, startling Dr. Keitel.
“What is that?”
“Front door. My assistant is undoubtedly returning.”
“Let’s go. I am not quite finished with you yet,” Dr. Keitel responded as he aimed the pistol once more at Dr. Jewell’s head. “Back door, let’s move.”
Dr. Jewell raised his hands and exited the room with Dr. Keitel close behind. He needed to do a full examination of the body, but he didn’t want any more interactions with the local populace for the time being. The taxi driver he shot a couple blocks away would undoubtedly draw attention. He did note one positive, tracking his patient would be much easier now.
Maynard Fontenot?” Roman asked, as he offered his hand. He saw that the coroner tech was sweating profusely and holding onto a large styrofoam cup with both hands.
“Yes. You must be Detective Roman. Sorry about earlier. Please follow me,” the portly coroner tech responded, shaking Roman’s outstretched hand weakly. He tossed the cup into an overflowing trashcan. “I’m glad dispatch gave me your number. I was running out of options.” Maynard Fontenot was in his mid-thirties, had a short, stocky build with black oily hair that ended in a ponytail, and wore thin wire frame glasses perched on the end of his nose, which Roman noted was sporting a nice large patch of untrimmed nose hair. He was dressed in the typical white lab coat, with a crooked name tag over the breast pocket. Numerous stains from old, greasy, heart-stopping lunches dotted the coat as well.
Fontenot led Roman down a nondescript white hallway and finally came to a door with a glass pane that read “Autopsy.” The coroner’s office appeared to be devoid of any other staff. Inside the autopsy room were two bodies, one partially dissected, with a prominent hole on the left side of the skull, and one that was not, but had most of the throat ripped away. Roman instantly recognized it as the victim from earlier in the morning. It was this body that the coroner tech escorted Roman t
o see.
“First off,” Fontenot said, “the chief coroner is on vacation, and the deputy coroner is nowhere to be found at the moment, so I am pretty much in charge. Anyway, this is the body that I picked up from your crime scene. I know that you were one of the investigating officers, so I felt compelled to tell you of my findings before I put it in the freezer.”
Roman took a step back, defensively putting both hands in the air, and replied, “Again, I am not the investigating officer. This is my first day on the job, and I don’t want to get messed up working the lieutenant’s case without his knowledge. Please omit me from any of your paperwork, OK?”
Fontenot looked at him for a moment, slightly irritated. “Just look at the goddamn body.” His face was quickly turning a bright red.
“What do you have?” Roman asked, oblivious to Fontenot’s rising blood pressure. He viewed the corpse with morbid fascination; working patrol he didn’t visit the coroner’s office. Detectives always did the follow up investigations. Numerous tools of the coroner’s trade were neatly laid out on a metal tray, but the tools had barely been touched, except for a large, bloody scalpel lying carelessly across the corpse’s chest. A Y-shaped incision had been started, but abruptly stopped. He peered into the skull at the partially exposed brain.
“Not that body. It’s the same one from earlier, remember?” Fontenot said.
“Yea, sorry. Lost my train of thought for a second,” Roman said.
“Well, the thing is, I brought the body in and started prepping it like I usually do,” he said as he indicated toward the body with an apparent animal wound. “Anyway, I have to inventory property, scrub the body, and all that crap. The bite or whatever is still there, except now there is some black ooze leaking out. It’s not blood. Also, feel the body.”
Dawn of the Mad Page 12
