“H-mm,” Dr. Hamilton said, as she placed the brownish long bone lengthwise on the metal table. This was the fourth of ten skeletons she and her assistant had examined. They were battered and mixed up and she wasn’t told where they came from; just do a thorough examination on each of them, she was told, and report back to the CIA director in person. She had never met Ms. Churchill but she’d heard through the grapevine that she was one heck of a controlling witch.
As expected, the muscles, skin, and a majority of the soft tissue had disintegrated over the many years of exposure. A few petrified ligaments and tendons were barely holding a few finger joints together. Scalp hair was intact. She was not sure how these people died, but judging by the age of these skeletons and the clothing, this was appearing to be a job for an archaeologist, not a forensic specialist. But whatever, it was her job.
Hamilton placed the leg bone down and reached for the left arm bone. She gripped the radius and ulna bones of the forearm and placed it lengthwise so she could examine it. With her gloved hand, she carefully gripped the tattered sleeve and slowly pulled it backwards towards the shoulder. Once she reached the elbow area, she repositioned herself and continued carefully pulling the clothing upward towards the shoulder. She was instructed to preserve the clothing as much as possible; which meant no cutting. When the sleeve and her hand were about two inches past the elbow, she noticed something.
Etching? Couldn’t be. The bone seemed to have unusual markings that weren’t the normal scratches. She carefully removed her hand just in case she was misreading something that was normal. She stood there for a while visually assessing the bone. She stepped to the head of the table and briefly reassessed the situation. She was a scientist by nature and knew what to expect and what she just saw didn’t add up. She tightened her gloves with a snap and continued removing the clothing. As she did, a distinct groove appeared in the bone. A groove that she now determined with absolute certainty was not normal, or at least not what she considered normal.
She spent several seconds staring at the bone before deciding how to continue. She tilted her head, contemplating what to do. The bone had a distinct groove that was definitely not a muscular tendon groove or an animal bite mark. Generally, animal bite marks were clearly widthwise, not lengthwise as these marks were.
The doctor carefully observed the indentations before sliding the clothing farther up the bone. For some reason, this unusual development was exciting her. Before she went further, she allowed her calculating mind to play with possibilities. Could this be an old injury? No, the only possibility could be a knife wound; deep enough to carve the bone? It would have to be an interesting wound to look like letters. She reached down and pulled the sleeve up further. As she did, a clear pattern of darkened indentations appeared.
She stopped and pulled her hands back again. This is excellent, she thought. Suspiciously, she continued pulling the clothing back, realizing that she could prolong this no more. Several shreds of clothing came loose, but she kept pulling. More and more marking continued to emerge. “This is crazy,” she said, embarrassingly out loud. She stepped back, not sure of what to make of what she was observing. She glared at the blackened markings revealed under the clothing. “Now...” she paused, “that I have to say is different.”
She sneezed suddenly as she noticed several more visible grooves. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, keeping her gloved hand clear of her face. She composed herself and called to her assistant, “Hey, you have got to see this.”
Her assistant stepped away from her examination table and walked over. “Yes, doctor?”
“Take a look at that.”
Her assistant positioned herself by the hand bones and leaned in. “Well, it’s... Um, I don’t know, but...” she leaned in closer, “what the heck?”
Dr. Hamilton pulled off her gloves, walked over to the wall phone, grabbed it and put it to her ear, “Get me the CIA Director, ASAP.”