The Grave Digger

by Rebecca Bischoff

  “Please, let me go!” Cap shouted, struggling.

  “I am sorry, young man,” Dr. Ivins said, smiling down at him with kindly expression. “I hate to lose my bright young inventor, but, well…” he ruffled Cap’s hair, “one must do what one must do.”

  Dr. Ivins placed a wooden box onto the table beside Cap’s head. He unwound long wires and set what looked like metal-studded dog collars onto the boy’s chest. Cap gasped.

  “I see you recognize my resurrection machine,” Dr. Ivins said with pride. “If money wasn’t persuasive enough, at times this pretty little device did the trick.” He slid one of the collars under the boy’s neck.

  “Families were thrilled to learn how their dear loved ones might be able to return to them. I admit that my machine has not yet worked, though I’ve tried it many times.” He buckled the color and cinched it tight. Cap strained to breathe. Dr. Ivins then buckled a larger collar about the boy’s forehead, shoving it down, hard.

  “I saw something similar long ago, in Scotland. A man was executed by hanging, but was revived for a few seconds by an electric shock. That was a sight I’ll never forget. I determined that moment to study medicine so I might discover the greatest secret of all—the secret to immortality.”

  The doctor untied one of Cap’s aching hands. He forced the metal cylinder into the boy’s fist and then bound it tightly back in place. Then Dr. Ivins grasped the crank of his resurrection machine and smiled. “I must thank you, Cap. Before he passed, Mr. Garrett told me it was your idea to put more magnets inside. It does make a much stronger current. I do regret losing the man to our mysterious illness, but, well, my machine is perfect now and I no longer require his services.”

  Cap blinked in horror, but the next moment, he screamed as a tingling jolt shot through his body. Heat burned his forehead and neck where the collars were attached. Dr. Ivins stopped turning the crank and wiped his sweating forehead. “I need information from you, boy.”

  “I don’t know anything,” Cap said through clenched teeth. His body ached almost as much as his heart.

  Dr. Ivins turned the crank again, and another jolt shot hot needles through the boy’s quivering frame.

  “Where is Jessamyn?” Dr. Ivins said, leaning down to snarl into the boy’s face. “Tell me now.”

  Convulsing with tremors from head to toe, Cap could only shake his head. Dr. Ivins turned the handle faster and faster. Hot knives sliced through Cap as the jolts came in quick succession, one after another.

  Finally, it stopped. But the doctor was not about to allow him any moment of rest. A rough hand slapped Cap’s face, and he groaned in pain.

  He opened his eyes to find a gleam of metal inches from his nose. The tiny knife glinted in the lantern light.

  “I must find her,” Dr. Ivins said, tapping the knife on Cap’s nose. “I put you in cold storage last night so you’d have time to reflect. And you did, didn’t you? You don’t want to return to the grave to wait for a slow death. Well,” he added, his eyes fixed on the boy’s horrified face. “Do you?”

  “No,” Cap groaned.

  “Now then,” Dr. Ivins said with a grin, “if you tell me, all shall be forgiven. No more shocks. No fear of being buried alive.”

  “You’ll let me go?” Cap whispered.

  “Oh, no, young man, I never said that. What I mean is you will not be buried…alive.”

  He moved closer and Cap couldn’t breathe.

  “I’ll make it quick if you tell me where she is,” the doctor whispered into his face.

  “But why do you want to kill Jessamyn?” Cap asked in a shivering voice.

  “Kill her?” Dr. Ivins asked. He stood back. “I don’t want to kill her, boy! I’m saving her,” he said, walking slowly around the table. His eyes were distant. “Imagine my distress to hear Abe had administered his special concoction to the girl. That fool! Some schools were asking for the bodies of children, and Abe was anxious to fulfill their wishes. He thought no one would miss an orphan.”

  “Except for her mother,” Cap whispered. “And plenty of others.”

  Dr. Ivins waved Cap’s comment away like it was an annoying fly. “I was away at the time and only returned after her burial. I was heartbroken. I hurried to the cemetery to make certain Lum got her out of the ground quickly so I could try my machine. Of course, we both know I didn’t need it after all, did I?”

  “But why do you care so much about her?” Cap asked again.

  “You ask me why I care about my own daughter?” Dr. Ivins spluttered.

  “You’re mad as anything!” Cap said. “She’s not your child.”

  Dr. Ivins ignored him. He turned to pace the stone floor. “I can give her all that she needs,” he said. “A home, an education, fine clothes, a carriage. She’ll go to balls and parties, be a grand lady!”

  The doctor bowed as if to an invisible dance partner, and began to waltz slowly about the room, humming. “Dance with your papa, Annalise. You look lovely, sweetheart. And so light on your feet.”

  “Jessamyn’s not your daughter!” Cap said. “I saw the portrait in your office. Your daughter is dead.”

  For a moment, Dr. Ivins stood still where he was, his face in shadow. The stiffness of his shoulders began to relax, and his head bowed. Cap held his breath, hardly daring to hope that his words had broken through to the man’s befuddled mind.

  Then, Dr. Ivins shook his head, squared his shoulders and marched to Cap. He held up the knife. “Where is she?” he whispered. “Where is my Annalise?”

  Mustering all his strength, Cap bent his knees and shifted himself sideways at the same moment, so that when he kicked, his feet contacted solidly with the doctor’s chest. Dr. Ivins flew backward and fell onto his little instrument-covered table, which collapsed under the man’s weight. The doctor screamed and cursed, thrashing about like a fish upon the riverbank. But in moments, he grew silent.

  THIRTY-THREE

  CAP ROLLED HIMSELF off the table and fell to the hard floor. Groaning, he forced himself to his feet and hopped through the doorway and into the dark corridor, dragging the cursed electric box behind him.

  A rapid pounding grew louder and louder as running feet drew near. The glow of a lantern appeared. Cap howled in frustration as hands seized him.

  “No! Let me go!” he screamed.

  “He’s here, Mr. Cooper!” a deep voice shouted. Strong hands held Cap tight. A round, ugly face peered down at him. It was Sister Mariah.

  “Thank God, we found him,” Father said, panting. He plucked uselessly at the ropes that bound the boy’s body, but managed to swiftly unbuckle the leather collar from about his neck. Cap took in great gulps of air.

  Skirts rustled as Sister Mariah hurried into the dissection room but returned within moments. “Dr. Ivins has fainted,” she announced. “Here, I’ll cut those ropes.”

  Cap twisted his head around and spied the doctor’s tiny knife in her hands.

  “No!” he screamed. “She’s with Dr. Ivins! She like as not helped him bury me. Don’t let her touch me!”

  “What?” Father said, pulling Cap away from Sister Mariah. “Stay away, woman!”

  Sister Mariah gaped at him. The knife fell from her fingers and pinged onto the stone floor. She held a hand to her mouth.

  “I would never hurt him,” she breathed. Turning her eyes to Cap, she added: “Dr. Ivins buried you?”

  “I fell and struck my head and woke up all trussed up and buried in a box. I don’t know how long I was there before Lum dug me up and brought me here.”

  “Stay away,” Father said to the now weeping woman. He seized the knife she’d dropped and sawed through the ropes that bound his son.

  “How did you find me?” Cap said, wincing at the pins and needles that flooded his numb limbs.

  “She led me here,” Father said, nodding in Sister Mariah’s direction. His jaw was set in a hard line. “Was this simply a trap? Is someone waiting to tie me up as
well?”

  “No, Mr. Cooper,” Sister Mariah blubbered. “I had no idea what Dr. Ivins had done. He said he’d take Cap to the hospital. I went to find the boy and learned he’d never been there, so I came to fetch you.”

  Breathing in deeply, Father glowered at the woman, but then his face softened a fraction.

  “That much is true,” he said. “She arrived moments after the sheriff left. He told us you were seen leaving town with a girl. Your mamma and I were frantic.”

  “You said you had to keep me silent,” Cap said, glaring at Sister Mariah. “I heard you.”

  “I thought he’d pay you,” Sister Mariah sobbed. “I never meant for any harm to come to you!”

  “That will be for the sheriff to decide,” Father said.

  Sister Mariah sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

  “Come, son,” Father said. But Cap didn’t move. Rubbing his sore arms to get some feeling back, he looked the man squarely in the face.

  “Why did you allow Lum to say those things about me?” he asked. “And treat me so?”

  Father ran a hand through his wild hair and briefly closed his eyes.

  “I was wrong, Cap. About so much. I wanted money so badly I did things I’ll always regret. I hurt good people and nearly lost my only son. And nothing could ever make up for that.”

  Something warm sparked and spread inside Cap’s chest at the bittersweet sound of those words. The part of his heart he swore had frozen solid began to thaw.

  “No more working for Lum?” Cap asked.

  “No more,” Father promised him. He put an arm about Cap and the two moved as quickly as they could to escape the terror-filled building. Cap vowed he’d even welcome a dose of Mrs. Hardy’s foul-tasting fever cure, if she thought he needed it.

  As they reached the main floor, shouts and loud voices reached their ears. Then, someone began to pound on the wide front doors.

  “It’s the law, I hope,” Father said. He reached out, but the doors burst open before he could seize the knob.

  Blinded by the sudden flare of sunlight in his face, Cap held his arm over his eyes.

  “It’s the Cooper boy!” someone shouted. “One of the devilish body snatchers!”

  Cap dropped his arm and squinted at the scene before him. The courtyard was filled with shouting people. Folks of all colors and stations mingled together, all with lowered brows and thunderous expressions. Lettie Garrett stood nearby with red-rimmed eyes, her pink cheeks streaked with tears.

  Unable to meet her gaze, Cap searched the gathering for anyone possessed of a friendlier aspect. There were quite a few people he knew: the grocer, the librarian, Master Rankin, and some boys from school, including Eli. Cap even spied the round woman who’d listened in on his talk with Jessamyn. But they all gawked at Cap and Father like they were oddities on display inside a carnival tent.

  “You two come on out,” a broad, gray-bearded man told them in a gruff voice. He motioned Cap and Father outside. Two other men, one a dark-skinned man dressed in shirt sleeves and the other a short, pale man wearing a spattered butcher’s apron, stood in front of them with folded arms. The two hovered so close Cap had no doubt they meant to keep him and Father from fleeing.

  “Let’s go inside and find our dead!” the bearded man shouted. A stream of people pushed their way inside the Round House.

  Those who remained outside muttered among themselves, while casting angry glances at the boy and his father. A few faces were twisted with fury, and Cap took a step backward until he was stopped by the brick wall of the medical college.

  “Now, everybody, stay calm,” a deep voice said. The towering man Cap had seen with Jardine and Delphia moved through the crowd. His face was grim. “I don’t know Mr. Cooper, but my wife and daughter say his family is kind and honorable,” he said. “Let’s give the two a chance to explain all this.”

  “You said it, Reverend,” the round woman said, elbowing her way forward. “I heard that child talk to someone the other day, and he was right decent. I want to hear what he has to say now.” She rewarded Cap with a steady gaze that at least wasn’t accusatory.

  “You go on home, Sally,” the brown-skinned man who stood watch told her.

  Sally put her hands on her hips. “You going to make me?” Someone in the crowd chuckled.

  Father put an arm around his son. He was trembling. Then Mr. Jackson stepped away from the throng in the courtyard, while loud whispers filled the air. He clutched his hat in his hands.

  “Where’s my Nellie?” he said. “I only want to know where she is. That’s all I’m asking.” His eyes pleaded.

  Cap opened his mouth, but his words seemed to have lodged themselves somewhere deep in his chest.

  “And where’s my papa?” Lettie stepped forward until she stood beside Mr. Jackson. “I opened his coffin after the wake to give him his favorite watch. Nothing was there. That box was empty!” The girl burst into tears, and Mr. Jackson handed her a handkerchief, which she accepted with a nod.

  Reverend Cole spoke quietly to Father. “Will you answer their questions, sir?”

  Father grew pale. “I can’t. Please,” he added, raising his voice, “let me explain why we’re here. I was searching for my son. You all know he was missing.”

  The whispers swelled like a rising windstorm. A woman called: “He was missing because he took that poor girl, that’s why!”

  “Please, let me speak,” Father said, holding his hands out. Reverend Cole motioned for silence. “I knew my son didn’t leave town and had reason to believe he might be here. He was. All tied up and nearly dead, to boot.”

  “The papers say he was one of them,” a man shouted. “He’s one of those ghouls stealing our dead. And I’ll be blamed if you ain’t one o‘ them, too.”

  Father clamped his lips closed.

  “You were his friend,” Lettie said, sniffling. She looked Cap in the eye. “How could you?”

  “But I didn’t,” Cap said, while his heart thrummed furiously. “I didn’t even know he was dead.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers.

  “Are you saying you folks didn’t take my Nellie?” Mr. Jackson asked. He gripped his hat so tightly it was nearly crushed against his chest.

  Unable to answer, Cap gulped, glancing at Father for help. But Father hesitated, flicking his eyes toward the men who stood guard. Voices rose around them until the sound was like the roar of a debris-choked river after a storm.

  There was a sudden ripple in the crowd, giving the mass of bodies the appearance of an undulating sea. Tillie and Jessamyn pushed their way through until they reached the front. The girl’s braid had come undone and her hair waved wildly about her face.

  At the sight, Cap’s insides trembled. After what she’d witnessed at Delphia’s house, how could Jessamyn see him as anything but a monster?

  “We want to know the truth,” Tillie called in a ragged voice. “What happened to my daughter? And Jardine’s poor little baby? I know you had him. Jessie told me.”

  Sally cocked her head to one side as she regarded Cap with narrowed eyes. The boy ducked his head.

  “What happened to Nellie?” Mr. Jackson yelled. “Somebody’s got to come clean some time, and I ain’t going to shut my mouth until I hear the truth.”

  With bowed shoulders, Cap took a deep breath. There was no way to hide the truth any longer. He allowed himself a final yearning look at Jessamyn’s face. Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “We did dig some people from their graves,” Cap called. He glanced at Father, who rewarded him with a slight nod. “But we didn’t dig up everybody. Some people had an arrangement. The doctors paid to take them away after they died.”

  Gasps of surprise and horror erupted around them. Lettie clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Reverend Cole flew to stand directly in front of Cap. “Who paid them? Which doctors? Tell me, son. Please.”

  Before Cap could answer, men
poured out of the Round House and surrounded them.

  “We found bodies!” one shouted. “The place is plumb filled with ’em, and they’ve killed one of the doctors!”

  Cap took a breath to speak, but his air was suddenly cut off. A strong arm wrapped itself around his neck and he was dragged backward. Blood pounded in his ears, but he still heard the shrill sound of Jessamyn’s screams as the world began to turn dark.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  HIS ATTACKER RELEASED his neck but seized him by the hair. Cap gulped for air and struggled to keep his footing.

  “Give me my daughter, or I’ll kill him!” Dr. Ivins said in an icy voice. He held up a razor-sharp knife as his pale eyes searched the crowd, falling upon Jessamyn. “There she is!” he cried, pointing with the blade. The girl screamed and shrank back.

  “Dr. Ivins? Is that you?” Reverend Cole cried.

  The doctor turned his gaze to the man. His bald head shone in the winter sunlight and his face was contorted. “I am here for my daughter. This boy has stolen her, and I want her back.”

  “Doc, what are you doing?” Father shouted.

  “Give me my daughter!” screamed Dr. Ivins. He shook Cap and lowered the knife.

  “She’s not your daughter!” Tillie shouted. She pushed Jessamyn behind her. “Her father was Josiah Henson, my husband. He was a former slave from Kentucky.”

  “From Madison?” Sally squealed. “The son of Billy and Abigail?”

  Tillie nodded, her face a mask of shock.

  Sally threw her arms in the air as though she were at a church revival and shouted: “Lord be praised! Josiah was my own sister’s child!” Without another word, the woman rushed to stand beside Tillie and Jessamyn. “You ain’t going to touch that girl,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “She’s my family.”

  Dr. Ivins raised his knife. More than one person screamed. Cap squeezed his eyes shut, but the stinging cut he expected never came. Instead, a clang and a thud sounded in his ears, and Dr. Ivins let go.