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Cradle of Rage

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The bodies were found in the rubble two days later. The Governor had hired a group of men to search the ruins of the toppled house, in hopes of finding some clue as to where Carrie White may have gone. It wasn't an easy search but the clean up crew still managed. When they decided to finally bring in the crane to move things along, they found something. The bodies of Carrie White and her mother, who lay in a small pocket almost directly in the center of the ruins, yet untouched by most of the destruction. The young girl - Carrie, cradled the body of her mother in a morbid embrace. The crew thought the girl was still alive until she flopped over dead when one of the men touched her shoulder.

When the police arrived the bodies were to be taken to a private morgue quietly so the public wouldn't react in any drastic ways. The parents of the victims, and surviving students were still looking for justice. Even if it were to mutilate her lifeless body. They would have to make due with simply spitting on her grave, because her death would be not announced until she was in the ground.

   An eccentric older man by the name of Albert Jenning, was called in late to do the job. When they brought in the bodies he motioned the young men in uniform to put each body on the  two separate gurneys next to one another as he pulled on a pair of white gloves. “Did you bring clothing for the bodies?”, Inquired the old man as the men were leaving. One of the officers stopped and turned, exhausted eyes resting on Albert then one of the body bags. It was the taller one. “There was nothing to salvage from the house,” He replied with a pitiful look in his eyes as he gazed at the mothers body. “That poor women..Hard to believe her own daughter did that to her.” He added, then disappeared out the door.

 With a shrug, Albert unzipped the bag almost did a double take. It was true what the officer said. Cuts and gashes littered her body and were crusted over with dried blood. She had puncture wounds deed as his forefinger and in some places they reached bone. Not only that, but new and old scars could be found all over her form. Self-inflicted?  It was a ghastly sight, but he had seen worse. Rinsing her off he decided to work on the mother later, when he realized she would need much more work than the daughter, so he placed her in one of the freezers and replaced his gloves.

  When he gathered all the proper tools and removed the bag, he was completely taken aback by how there wasn't any obvious cause of death. Unlike her mother, the girl wasn't as badly damaged, but she did have a number of small bruises and a long gash across her arm.

“From her mother trying to fight her off perhaps?”, he contemplated. When he rolled her upper body over he discovered a stab wound just below her left shoulder blade, then he gently lowered her back down onto the gurney table. It wasn't enough to name an obvious cause of death, so he began washing the body to prepare it for dissection. 

 As he rinsed dirt and crusted blood out of her hair, a strange feeling began to creep up on him. At first it wasn't very noticeable but as the minutes passed by the more he realized it was there. Ignoring it he continued to clean  her skin. It was a vague and he felt a tiny push against his skin strong enough that he stopped his ministrations for a moment to see if  the feeling faded. When it did he decided to hurry things along.

 Now, Albert wasn't a superstitious man by any meaning of the word. He was a man of science in fact, and always reveled in the comfort of logic. Yet, as he hovered the scalp over the girls chest to begin the incision, It was met with resistance. It was like magnets pushing against each other when one tried to touch them together. He pushed down just a little bit harder when suddenly the hair on the back of his neck lifted and the air seemed to get thicker, making his mouth go dry. “What is this?”, he thought frantically. Then for some unknown reason something told him to meet the face of the corpse and as he lifted his eyes, cold sweat dripping down his wrinkled forehead, he saw-  

 Nothing.

No undead creature stared back at him. No ghoul lashed out against his skin. What he saw was nothing more than the pale, unmoving face of Carrie White. Somehow that frightened him more. This girl managed to massacre a large group of students and nearly killed the rest. All without getting injured. How did she manage that? He heard the rumors of course, but brushed them off as nothing more than a way for the students who witnessed it to cope. They talked about  how she killed without even touching them.  “For the love of God, this is ridiculous!” he thought logically. Then he muttered out loud,”It’s not even possible, and even if it were shes dead now so I have nothing to worry about.”

Quickly he pressed down harder to break the skin, ignoring the strange magnetic resistance from before. When the blade finally managed to touch the skin, the lights flickered and his arms were ripped  away from the body. It was so unexpected and shocking he lost his footing and slammed into the opposite gurney, causing it to topple over. Maybe she wasn't as dead as he thought.  As fast as he could manage he was on his feet and running out of the room in pure unadulterated terror. All logic thrown out the window and fed to the wolves.

An hour later of waiting outside the building and collecting his wits he then realized nothing chased after him. Was it all just in his imagination? For a few minutes of battling with his fear his curiosity overpowered it and he began the slow trek back into the building. When he reached the hallway he stopped to listen.  No sounds could be heard except his beating heart, which Albert feared was beating to loudly. He stared at the door near the end of the hallway he had ran out of earlier. He did not properly shut it in his race to get away from the room so it was slightly ajar, and he left the light on.  

With this new discovery that nothing had followed him he entered to room. The overturned gurney and his tools littered the floor in a troublesome mess, he discovered. The body of Carrie White laid as it was, unmoved  and still motionless. In all his sixty one years, Albert had never experiences something like this before. He never believed in the supernatural but now he felt it was something not to be taken lightly, so he simply began picking up the mess. For the next hour or so he cleared the floor and tried to force his eyes not to wander over to the naked corpse still where he had left it. It didn't seem right to just let her lay there exposed like that. So finally, very carefully, he began to dress her body back into the nightgown she was wearing when they brought her here. It was the only thing she had.   

It was a long night but he managed to work on Margaret Whites body, making it presentable. No more feelings of foreboding crept up his spine, or phantom pushes assault him for  the rest of the night. As long as he didn't try to dissect Carries body anyway. Though now that he thought about it Margaret or her daughter weren't even getting a proper service. So what was the point really?  After everything that happened he decided not to embalm Carries body. “Maybe It’s for the best”, he mused, and left it at that.