What Human Remains

What Human Remains

by

S. M. Sevón

What Human Remains

Copyright © 2017 by S. M. Sevón (Satu Sevón-Nielsen)

Version 1.0

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, or by any means existing now or in the future, in whole or in part, without the express written permission of the author.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Cover design by The Cover Collection

Table of Contents

Summary

Acknowledgments

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

About the Author

They Wait in the Woods

Of a Dying Breed

Summary

Man is the cruelest animal.

Bonnie Parker has been through living hell. Having lost her friends and the life she knew to the horrors of the River Valley Dam, she is trying to come to terms with what she has become.

But the past is already back to haunt her.

Chased by shadows that seem to follow her every move she finds herself a prisoner of those who claim to help her. Trapped in a nightmare of ruthless experiments, she soon discovers that humans are far worse than the monsters they are hunting.

In order to survive, she must put her trust in the man who has tried to kill her—twice.

What Human Remains is the second book in the Bonnie Parker Series by S. M. Sevón.

Acknowledgments

This book is the result of years of hard work, but it wouldn't have seen the light of day without the invaluable help of Joonas Frösen and Michael Ringstrøm Nielsen. Gentlemen, I am forever in your debt. I thank you for your patience, your insightful input, and your support. I couldn't have done this without you.

Also, a special thanks to my family for supporting and encouraging me through the entire writing process, tolerating my eccentric writing hours, and other strange practices. I love you all so much.

Dedication

For Michael, Nathalie, and Noah.

Prologue

It always started the same way. The location might change, sometimes being a deep and dark forest, the steps of an abandoned building, or perhaps even the aisle of a local supermarket. No matter where she was, she was always alone, alone in the dark or under a bright glare, pushing her way forward towards an unknown destination she was determined to reach.

It didn't matter whether she ran as fast as she could. She would fumble for things to hold on to, grabbing whatever she could reach to help her to make it onwards. She would also try to sneak away as quietly as possible, hiding in the shadows. None of it ever helped. They always caught up with her. She never saw anyone, but she would know they were there. She could feel their hungry stares all around her, slowly spreading around her and circling her as she continued onwards. Despite knowing what followed, the panic was still there, her heart pounding harder and faster in her chest, her breathing labored either from exertion or sheer terror.

The first growl would come from somewhere behind her, though not up close, making shivers creep up her spine as she would look around nervously. She never saw them, only dark shapes rushing past her, her eyes failing to see the actual cause of movement. Sometimes she felt something brush right past her leg or perhaps an arm, but as she would turn around, there would be no one there.

Then there would be more, more guttural sounds coming from all around, some near and some farther away. She knew she needed to get away, but she never really knew where 'away' was. She only continued onwards, determined to reach whatever she was heading for.

The shock was always the same whether it came from right in front or ran up to her from behind. A dark shadow would reach her. The creature with a maw full of sharp teeth dripping with blood would rise towering above her. The beast would overwhelm her as she struggled to protect herself even though she knew her struggles were in vain. The creature always got its prey, and she knew the next thing would be her darting up in her own bed, waking up drenched in sweat and out of breath. She would get up and walk around her quiet apartment for a little while, pacing between the darkened rooms just to walk off the adrenaline of fear, stopping by the windows to look at the empty nighttime city streets to calm herself down. Then, sooner or later, she would return to bed, fall asleep and repeat exactly the same process over and over again until the sun would rise over the horizon.

The following night and the nights after that would be no different.

In her mind still hearing her own screams as the claws and the teeth of the beast dug into her flesh, she lifted the corner of her comforter to slip back under the covers when there was a light tapping sound at her apartment door as if someone was knocking to get in. Stopping half-way she strained to hear the sound again, thinking she could have heard something from the neighbor's when the cautious knocking repeated itself, demanding her attention.

A frown spreading across her forehead, she started for the hallway, tightening the belt of her robe as she advanced quietly on the carpeted floor. She could see a narrow sliver of light coming from outside her front door, the narrow yet bright stripe of light interrupted by two dark spots where someone's feet would be. The knock repeated itself once more.

She looked into the corridor through the peephole on her door, seeing the figure of a man standing outside, shifting his weight impatiently as he waited for her to respond. She looked at him, the leather jacket he wore, the head of short dark curls he ran his fingers through as he glanced behind him in the corridor. He looked familiar, painfully familiar.

But he shouldn't be there. She had watched him die, fall victim to the beast in her dreams. There was no way he could have survived.

Unless...

Could it be...?

Even though she had serious reservations about the situation, she felt hopeful excitement take over. She reached for the door chain with shaking hands and unlocked the door despite a small voice at the back of her mind begging her not to. She allowed the warm light from the walkup to wash over her, the silhouette of the figure at her door shading her against the brightness of the corridor lights. Her eyes welled up from joy, a lump of relief pressing at her throat as the man turned around, a warm wide smile spreading on his face as he saw her.

She wanted their embrace to last forever as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her with the despair of someone long lost and finally found. She inhaled the familiar soft scent of the leather jacket she had smelled so many times before, feeling the warmth of his body underneath as she pressed her head against his chest. Even though they did not say a word, she felt they both communicated the endless sorrow of having been apart and the overwhelming joy of seeing each other again, holding on to one another in silence.

But how was it possible? It shouldn't be, she thought, slowly letting her hold around him go, taking a step back as her mind was now screaming at her to understand what she had done, who she had let in.

She turned to look up at him.

The face of her friend was gone, replaced by the face of someone else, someone far more sinister, a man of deception and evil. She watched him smirk at her, the knowing look in his eyes boring right through her as the human in him disappeared and he became the beast she knew he was.

A bestial growl rising from deep within him he opened his mouth to expose rows of long, white teeth, dripping with gore.

Her nightmare was far from over.

Chapter 1

The cold droplets of rain prickled her skin as they landed on her face. Some of the funeral guests had had enough foresight to bring umbrellas to the event and were now tightly huddled underneath them, but part of her actually preferred the punishment of the cold rain. It gave her something else to focus on.

Wrapping up tighter in her long, black overcoat she looked at the two dark brown caskets before her, set onto the mechanical platforms that would eventually lower them into their eternal resting place. The petals of the white lily wreaths bounced rhythmically with the droplets landing on the glistening varnish before rolling off into the empty pit below.

Despite what had happened, the Lewises had bravely decided on an open casket wake. She thought of the pale, calm faces of the young men, sleeping peacefully in the suits they had bought for their high school graduation, both holding on to a single bright red rose. She had to admit that the funeral parlor had really outdone themselves as there were hardly any signs left on the bodies of what had happened.

Unfortunately, the sights that she remembered could not be erased with makeup.

She could not help but wonder whether she would have been better off joining the brothers. At times she felt that her fate was a life sentence she was serving in an invisible prison she would have gladly escaped.

She remembered the last time she had seen Brandon alive, chewing on his pen, a deep frown crossing his brow as he was trying to jot down his answers at the comparative medieval European literature mid-terms. The next time they met, she was accompanying his brother Eric to identify his earthly remains at the hospital.

Her last memories of Eric were far less peaceful. She thought of his warm smile and all the good times they had shared, but as soon as she started down that road, she got back images of the accident, trying to hobble away from the creatures in vain, and eventually landing on his body in the woods. The vacant look in his milky eyes still haunted her dreams.

She raised her eyes to look at the Lewises, holding one another tightly, their faces twisted with grief. In a rather typical fashion for a man of his generation, Mr. Lewis was trying to maintain his composure whereas his wife was inconsolable. As the saying went, no one should outlive their own children. Now they had lost both of their sons, both with a bright future ahead of them. They still had their daughter, Brandon and Eric's little sister Sarah, who had reached that awkward phase of braces and experimental hair, but now their radically smaller family was always going to be a broken one, never the same hive of activity and energy it had once been.

She watched Sarah cling tightly to her parents as if afraid of letting go in case it meant she would perish like her brothers.

Bonnie Parker shivered. The cold breeze that had arrived with the rain felt like it blew right through her clothes and chilled her all the way from within.

Her grief for her friends was beyond words. Under other circumstances, she knew that, at a moment like this, she would have had a friendly shoulder to lean on or a warm embrace to share, but as she looked around at the guests present at the cemetery, it became all the more clear to her that she was the one who was alone. Completely alone.

What pushed her further into isolation was the secret she had chosen to keep from everyone else. Ever since that night at the River Valley Dam, she had steadily distanced herself from the usual activities of everyday life and slowly accepted the reputation of a slightly eccentric recluse who hadn't recovered from the tragedies that had come her way. She was more comfortable with the quiet whispers and smiles of pity rather than let anyone get even a hint of something else being at stake. What she considered as her own private problem was going to remain as such.

That day she had chosen to wear some bandages around her neck and large sunglasses even though all of her physical wounds were long gone. She did not need to remind any of the other guests of what she had been through, but at the same time, she did not want to attract unnecessary attention with her miraculous recovery. The last thing she needed was for the whispers to start.

She watched the priest's vestments catch the rising wind and flutter in the breeze. The rain itself had reduced to a light drizzle, but the cold weather was still very biting.

The muffled words of the priest fading into the background, her gaze moved among the guests, settling on the familiar figure of Detective Bradford Ross, who had made it a point to appear at the funeral out of sheer respect for the family. After all, he and Mr. Lewis had briefly worked together when he was working the beat as a young graduate. The Detective still needed the help of a crutch to move around, but he looked to be on the mend or he was just too busy with his work to care.

As an indication of the latter being true, he made a hasty retreat as the phone in the pocket of his trench started to vibrate. He shuffled off in a hurry, settling under a tree a good few yards away from the proceedings. The look of awkward annoyance switched to that of angered confusion as he remained there, leaning against the tree trunk for support, spitting quick replies into the device while the ceremony behind him slowly came to an end.

She joined the solemn huddle around the Lewises, waiting for her turn to pay her respects to the family. She had already done it once over the phone at the hospital when the choking voice of Mrs. Lewis had told her they would very much appreciate her presence at their sons' funeral if she was in any condition to attend. The thought had scared her at the time, anxious to be in any kind of crowd, especially in one that would remind of the nightmare she had been through, however, she had accepted the invite and now, even though the anxiousness had not gone anywhere, she felt she needed to put herself through the last motions to get closure.

Thank you, Mrs. Lewis wrapped her into a tight embrace, visibly glad she had come after all. Maureen Lewis had always been small in size, but in light of the recent events, she appeared even smaller and frailer.

I am so sorry for your loss, Bonnie managed, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She had managed to maintain control over her emotions throughout the proceedings, but now, feeling the warmth the Lewis family was still able to show towards her even in their time of mourning, opened emotional doors she had tried to keep shut.

Mr. Lewis gave her an acknowledging nod placing his hand on her shoulder.

You are still welcome in our house just like before, he said, his baritone voice slightly cracking as he tried to keep himself together in front of everybody.

Don't forget about us, his wife smiled dabbing the corners of her bloodshot eyes with a tissue.

How could I? she managed a weak smile ...and thank you, she expressed her gratitude to the parents before mumbling a hasty goodbye and making space for the rest of the guests. She felt she was being smothered by the crowd and that she would be in everybody else's way if she hung around.

She wasn't going to attend the memorial dinner either. She'd had it with gloomy pomp and circumstance and she'd also had enough of wallowing in misery for one day. No amount of grieving was ever going to bring her friends back, and she was mentally prepared to start thinking about other things.

However, before that, she had one more little thing to take care of.

Slipping down the wet slope of grass in her ill-fitting heels, she made her way across the cemetery, heading for another block of graves that had been recently dug into the ground. Doubtful of whether she was heading the right way, she was pleasantly surprised that the grave she was looking for had already been fitted with a headstone and was indeed where she had remembered it to be.

She kneeled down and reached to brush away the rain that had accumulated over the gilded engravings. She ran her fingertips over the carved letters and for a moment stared at them in silence before reaching inside her coat and producing a single, deep-red rose to place on the slick granite.

She stood up and stared at the wet writing, stuffing her hands inside the pockets of her coat.

Mitchell Allen MacAllister, a loved son, brother, and friend.

Seeing the loss of yet another friend confirmed in writing did not make the situation any better even though she did appreciate that the grave had been well looked after. Remembering the last moments she had seen Mac alive, she knew she would never forgive herself for not trying to do something to help him. Of course, she was very aware of that, in the end, she wouldn't have been able to stop the inevitable from happening, but she still reserved the right to feel guilty about it—just like she playfully blamed him for having left her all alone.

I miss you, you jerk, she muttered under her breath, fighting away bitter tears of longing. She shivered, and this time it was not just the cold wind that was getting to her. The cheap pumps she had bought for the funeral had soaked through and her feet had turned into numb icicles.

Wiping her runny nose with her hand she glanced at the grey scenery around her. On a sunny day, the cemetery was a beautiful place to be with its lush trees and well-groomed lawn, delicate bird song often lightening the depressing atmosphere. That day, however, the scenery was nothing short of dismal, water dripping from the limp branches that had lost their brightly colored leaves a long time since, her every step squelching as the soggy gravel gave way under her feet. The sky was different shades of grey and the woodland bordering the fenced-in cemetery didn't add anything new to the color scheme.

Letting out a deep sigh that encompassed everything she was feeling at the moment, she glanced at the ornate east gate that led away from the cemetery to the walking paths that disappeared among the maple and oak of the woodland area. There was a figure of a man, leaning against the stone pillar of the gate with his hands in the pockets of his pants, his feet slightly crossed. Under other circumstances, she would have not given him a second glance, but this time her eyes seemed to settle on him and an uncomfortable feeling began to creep up her spine.

She could swear he was staring straight at her.

Just to confirm she wasn't delusional and that she wasn't the center of attention, she turned around, glancing to see if there was anyone else nearby behind her. To her surprise, the winding paths and the low hill opening before her were completely vacant from any other human presence. Even the activity at the Lewis funeral had begun to disperse, people heading away farther across the lawn.

Feeling her heart beat a little faster, she turned to look back at the gate, but this time there was no one there for her to see. The eastern gate was as empty as it had been earlier upon her arrival at Mac's grave.

She tried to dismiss the sight with the usual suspects of her state, after all, she was probably suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, but she couldn't help feeling worried. Her gut-feeling had always served her well and, at that very moment, a whole array of alarms had gone off.

She was startled from her deep thoughts by the sound of gravel crunching under slowly approaching steps. She turned around to meet Detective Bradford Ross awkwardly making his way along the path, the hems of his trench wrapping around his crutch with every gust.

Ms. Parker, he nodded in sympathy, craning to see the name on the grave she had stopped at.

Detective, she replied quietly, folding her hands and turning back to look at the headstone and its slick surface that had grabbed a tight hold of the flower she had left on it.

There was a moment of silence. Neither one of them had been at Mac's funeral as his family had wanted to keep it strictly as a family affair only. Even she had heard about it after the fact and, hence, had made a promise to pay her respects later once she had the chance.

A beautiful ceremony, the detective braved, cautiously initiating a conversation.

Yes, it was, she agreed, looking at the toes of her by-now completely ruined shoes. It would be pure luck if the glue in the soles held until she got back to her apartment.

Just horrible weather, she added squinting at the grey sky, watching a few random clouds stand out of the matte mass and slowly drift by above them. At that very moment, nature had succeeded in matching her mood perfectly.

The detective grunted his agreement and gave the phone in the pocket of his coat a cautious glance.

Are you going to the dinner…? he gestured at the other funeral guests departing farther into their cars.

No, she shook her head vigorously. I've had enough of death for one day, she added folding her arms and trying to rub herself warm. The chill had now spread all over her.

I don't know if I can help you with that, the detective cocked an eyebrow. But I'd like to offer you a cup of warm coffee and a dry ride home if that's alright, he turned around to wave at the officer serving as his driver for the funeral.

There's something I'd like to show you at the station if you are in no hurry, he added seeing her looking for a polite way to excuse herself.

Reading the stern expression on the detective's face, she began to understand that the invitation was not as voluntary as it had originally sounded. She glanced at the patrol car parked at the far end of the path, waiting for them with the driving officer holding a door open.

Thank you, I'd like that, she agreed, genuinely liking the idea of being able to get off her aching feet for a while. The station was not exactly famous for its coffee, but at that stage, anything warm was good enough for her hands and throat.

I hope it's nothing serious, she added with a frown, gauging for at least some details on why her presence was required.

I hope so, too, the detective admitted as they started back up the path. I don't have all the details myself yet, he glanced at a message that had arrived on his phone. But something has come up that I think you should know about, he gave her a sideways glance and pocketed the device.

The message had come from the medical examiner.

They pulled in at the station's underground parking garage just as the medical examiner was locking up his old brown Volvo, having parked in the visitors' section.

Thank you for coming so fast, the detective shook the doctor's hand as he tried to exit the patrol vehicle in a dignified way with his crutch.

I think this is bothering me just as much as it's bothering you, Bradford, so I really didn't see any reason for further delays, the medical examiner shook his head with a grave expression on his face, clutching his old satchel with both hands.

Her shoes were still uncomfortably wet as she stepped on the concrete floor of the garage and rounded the patrol car to join the two men on their way towards the elevator that would take them to the station proper.

You remember Ms. Parker? the detective gestured in her direction hearing the hasty clicking of her heels gaining up behind them. Bonnie, Doctor Martin Garrett, if you remember, he handled the re-introductions between them as they entered the elevator car and the detective chose a floor.

Why, yes, the medical examiner shook her cold hand, initially searching for a name and a face to put together, but, yet again, her odd moniker seemed to work its magic as the doctor's face soon lit up with recognition.

Most unfortunate, this case, he shook his head again expressing his compassion, remembering excerpts from the detective's notes on what had taken place between her and the people whose bodies he had examined.

And it doesn't seem to be letting go, Detective Ross muttered as they arrived at the lobby of his department's floor and began heading down the corridor, passing a small jungle of cubicles enveloped in a cacophony of noise. They went past a hot drinks machine and made a quick stop for beverages before stepping into the calming silence of the detective's private office.

Now, Martin, the detective sighed throwing his trench coat over a vacant chair and taking a seat behind his desk which was surprisingly free of paper clutter.

Since Ms. Parker is here with us, can you please tell us again exactly what you told me on the phone? he leaned back in his seat, the relief of lifting up his feet evident in his tone of voice. Putting up a brave face about his aching leg was no longer an option, and he was delighted to return his foot to rest on top of the small stool he had arranged for the room.

Well, the medical examiner started cautiously clearing his throat, placing his satchel across his lap. As I told Detective Ross earlier today, we have encountered a slight problem, he started turning towards her to explain the situation.

Nursing the hot plastic cup between her chilled hands, the same unpleasant feeling she had felt at the cemetery began to creep up her spine. She had no idea whatsoever of what the discussion was going to lead to, but she was certain she was not going to like what was ahead. Calming down her active imagination she tried to tell herself to wait patiently for what the medical examiner had to say and only then let go of the panic that had begun to accumulate ice at the pit of her stomach.

We were releasing the last of the unclaimed bodies for cremation when we noticed a slight discrepancy, Doctor Garrett continued, the last words pronounced with deliberate care and dripping with sarcasm.

One of the bodies in the Lewis case is missing, he said, evidently annoyed by the situation.

Excuse me? Bonnie frowned attempting to take a sip of her hot drink but deciding against it as the steam felt too hot on her lips.

How can that be? she exchanged curious looks with the doctor and the detective, starting to wonder about her role in the entire event.

See, that's exactly what we were wondering about as well, the doctor grimaced and pulled out a thin folder of paperwork from his satchel. I started the autopsy on the missing body, but I had to leave due to a domestic emergency, he looked awkward stating the last part as he could still remember how upset his wife had been over another late night spent at work. He had made hurried arrangements, managed to get one of the interns to step in for him, and left for home assuming everything was alright. All this had changed when he was asked to sign the final release forms earlier that day.

I asked Peterson to step in for me, the medical examiner explained pushing the yellow folder across the table, handing the papers over to the detective who in turn began leafing through the material while listening to the doctor's account.

He never reported anything, so I never had any reason to assume something wasn't right, the doctor shrugged leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, evidently feeling defensive about the situation.

Not until today, that is, he concluded waving in frustration at the papers in the detective's hands.

And why was that exactly? the detective frowned flipping through the notes, knowing very well what the answer was, but he wanted Bonnie to hear it straight from the good doctor himself.

I needed to sign the releases for the unclaimed bodies before the people representing the city contractor would cart them away for cremation, he pointed at the copies he had taken of the original paperwork now spread on the detective's desk. I noticed I was one autopsy report short, realized which one it was, and I went to Peterson to ask for it. Except he didn't have one, the doctor rested his chin against his hand.

Turns out by the time he came into the autopsy room, there was no body for him to work on, and seeing Derek, my assistant that is, already busy cleaning the room, he thought I had managed to finish the autopsy after all. Derek was none the wiser either as he assumed Peterson had already wrapped up for the day. Hence, no paperwork was ever done and, had I not been there today, the entire mess would have gone unnoticed, the doctor explained visibly pained by the messy circumstances. He liked to run a tight ship with his department and something like this was unheard of, especially during his years at the helm.

So, what do you think happened? the detective asked closing the folder in his hands and calmly placing it on his desk. He laced his fingers in his lap and gave the doctor a meaningful look. They were starting to enter the private part of the conversation.

I really don't know, the doctor shrugged shifting nervously in his seat. "And part of me doesn't know if