BlackWell

Slab

I snapped on a pair of gloves and grabbed a clipboard with an autopsy report. I walked down the corridor to the examination room. The fluorescent lights shined off the linoleum floor, the large swinging doors squeaked as I entered the cold bright room. Mary Stayed beside the covered body that laid on the steel table. Marry was petite and looked even smaller compared to the body.

"Did you hear the news," Marry asked a grin spreading across her face, " Business first, and pull your mask up." I set the clipboard down. Her smile disappeared as she pulled her mask up. reaching up I flipped on the massive light above us. Marry pulled back the sheet covering the body. I jerked back at the sight of a familiar face. Large, glassy brown eyes, that were almost black, looked up into nothing. Her mouth hung open slightly like she was surprised to see me as well.

I inhaled sharply as Marry shot me a confused look. "...I'm fine, she just looks familiar that's all," I say pulling the rest of the sheet away. Her right hand was missing, it hadn't been like that before. Marry grabs the small camera to take pictures of any outward trauma. I lifted the arm so Mary could get a better shot. "It looks like it was cauterized," Mary-Beth noted as I parted the victim's hair. She had a massive gash on the right side of her head, "Looks like it was sealed with something." I said as Marry-Beth snapped several more pictures.

I began writing down our findings so far, "Why would they seal up a wound, or cauterize anything," Mary asked as she handed a scalpel to me. "They didn't want any blood to leak out of the bag," Marry grimaced as she snapped more pictures. After the outward examination, I move to make the Y-incision.

I cut one shoulder joint to the other, then under the breasts, and down to the pubic bone. The loose muscle and skin are pulled back, and Marry hands me the shears for cutting the ribs. It's a long process of cutting away and removing organs. Samples are procured for toxicology to test later.

Finally, Marry hands me the saw for the cranium. The incision is careful, hard enough to cut bone, but soft enough to not harm the tissue. I remove the brain placing it in a steel bowl. Marry and I both look down at the organ. A congealed mass of blood coated one side. I looked at the women on the table, she couldn't be older than eighteen. She was still staring, I flinched at the thought that her last glimpses of life were of her killer.

We returned her organs and sewed up the cavity. Her brain would be preserved for the time being. I slid my hand across her face, closing her eyes. She shouldn't have to keep staring at him.

                                                                                            ***

My work is a long and arduous process, it was almost eleven by the time I got home. I stroked Pharaoh as he laid on my chest. Jasper was busy napping in the cat tree. I wasn't exactly thrilled about being in my apartment. Rain gently pelted the window, my mind kept asking if it was real. I clenched my teeth, as I stood up

Placing Pharaoh down on the couch. I stormed into my bedroom. I pulled a box from my closet. I hadn't looked at it in years, but I pulled the brown paper bag from deep inside the box. My great grandfather had made it. At least that's what my father said. The leather sheath went missing decades ago. The blade gleamed slightly in the dark.

I remembered the blade hanging from my father's belt. The smell of cheap cigars seemed to fill the room. I clutched the knife to my chest.

I walked back into the living room, the package that I got this morning was still on the kitchen table. A bitter realization hit me. I haven't ordered anything, I shouldn't have a package. Looking down at the little brown box anger bubbled inside me. I couldn't deny what was happening now, whoever this was, they had a lot of nerve. I cut through the tape on the box and flung off the lid.

The contents caused me to lose grip on the knife. I dropped it and the clattering it made echoed. It was ghastly white and clenched into a tight fist. With a dark birthmark near its thumb.  

I reached back never taking my eyes off it. I dialed for the only person I could think of. D'Angelo picked up, his voice was still full of sleep. "Someone sent it to me," I said before he could even finish saying hello. "Sent what to you, Blackwell, you need to explain," he said, the grogginess dissolving into concern. "Her hand, someone sent me her hand," I said, beginning to tremble once again.