Elysium Dreams

Twenty-Five

"What the hell?" Gabriel said.

The pretty pastel pink carpet was sucking in the drying brownish blood. Black spots dotted the floor around her feet. She wore pink house shoes, lined with fleece that made them look soft and fluffy. They too had suffered from the blood, soaking it in, tinting them with brownish streaks.

Her body was leaning back on the couch. Blood was pooled around her, filling the cushions. Like Arons, she'd been gutted. I breathed through my mouth.

"She has three wounds, one in back, two in front," someone said to Gabriel.

That's when I noticed her face. The cheek was turned away from me, but I could tell that the skin had been removed. The wound was deep enough that it had punctured the sinus cavity. There was a hole, almost perfectly round, in Bell Turner's face. Something that wasn't blood dripped from it. I forced myself not to gag. I could deal with blood, snot was a completely different story.

"He couldn't skin her, so he took her cheek as a souvenir," Lucas said.

"That's just wrong," Michael was still in the doorway, refusing to enter.

"Great, we know Ericson isn't still here, so where is he?" I asked.

"Watching?" Lucas suggested.

"No, too obvious. He's wanted and everyone knows what he looks like and what he's driving," Gabriel said.

"I should have just stayed at the morgue," I said.

"Well, you can ride back with the attendants," Gabriel told me.

"Ok," I waited outside. I lit a cigarette, the smoke burned in my throat.

"Xavier is going to be livid when you show up smelling like smoke," Lucas took the cigarette and took a drag.

"I keep telling him that I am not going to live long enough to get cancer," I said.

"Shit happens," Lucas shrugged.

The attendants began wheeling out the body. One of them looked at me. I had finished my cigarette, so I crushed it out on my boot and shoved the butt into my pocket.

The ride was quiet. I was stuck in the back with the dead Bell Turner. If I believed in zombies or any other form of undead, it would have been terrifying. Since I didn't, it was just disturbing. If I was going to be forced to deal with people, I preferred the living. This seemed to be in direct contrast to my personality, dead people didn't talk or make stupid statements. However, they made other noises, noises associated with living but were part of the decomposition process, like sighing. I found dead people creepy.

The van stopped. After a few seconds, the back doors were pulled open. I nearly rushed out the door. This time, I didn't wait for the attendants. I went in before them.

"Got another one," I said to Xavier, entering the room that said "Occupied".

"Killing spree?" Xavier asked, not looking up.

"Looking like it," I said.

"Was she skinned?"

"No, but she is Hilary's sister, and her cheek is missing. Finding anything?"

"Yeah, toxicology reports. The answers were there, they were just ignored because our serial killer was the attending coroner." Xavier sounded irritated.

"Here?" I asked.

"Yes, shoved in a drawer. I finally got curious about my surroundings and found them. The real ones, not the ones given to the police departments. He was scanning for it, but the results weren't being sent to the agents in charge or the police departments, they were being sent to him. Then he'd create a fake report and submit it to the police."