Body Parts

by Adrianna Dane

  For the first time in all these years, he welcomed the surge of energy that passed through him, without the usual dread. And for once he opened himself to receive every volt of electricity. He felt the wound seal in the stretch of his skin, smelled it in the scent of burning flesh, and experienced the ragged pain that razed across his chest.

  The zing of electricity was like a lightning bolt passing through his body, and he convulsed with its fiery, painful absorption. He felt his strength returning, bit by bit. He tried to clear his mind of Paul and what he had done. The anger made the sparks of fury burn his flesh, and he could only lessen it by calming his mind at least until the electrophasm treatment was completed.

  He leaned back into the machine to absorb the treatment. He needed his full strength, not only for his own sake, but for Korrie’s as well. Her life depended on it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Korrie sat at the desk in her room trying to make sense out of what she had learned over the last few days. How was she going to piece it together to write a report for the institute?

  The walk up to Heartbreak Hill had shaken her. There was so much about the Ransom estate that called to her on a more personal level other than that of scientist. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She had come to the conclusion that she didn’t want to leave, that she wanted to stay with Athan.

  She realized now after reading the remainder of Sheba Ransom’s journal, that she had loved Athan for years, just as Sheba had, seduced by her passionate entries. The woman had cared for him deeply and it was evident in almost every word. None of what she’d found in the journal could be included in the report to the institute.

  Listening to Athan speak, seeing how tortured and alone he was, reading Sheba Ransom’s innermost thoughts, and perusing Cornelius Ransom’s research notes made her think hard about the research experiments being conducted at the institute. It was difficult not to see how one could be made crazy by bringing someone to life the way the Ransoms had done. Both Sheba and Athan had referred to it as “God play,” and how true that was. No one wants to lose a loved one, but how far does one go to save them?

  In much of Korrie’s research in the labs at the institute, everything seemed based on the purely tangible, rather than any part of the alchemical. Could one create life or extend life by melding alchemy with logical science?

  She had dabbled in alchemy but never taken it very far because her father had looked upon it with disbelief. When she was engaged to Paul, she had tried to discuss her concerns and ideas with him, and he had choked her thoughts lifeless as being unsubstantiated and not worth pursuing further.

  But what if she had listened to her own heart and followed her own instincts to research and take her studies down a different path ‑‑ just the way Sheba Ransom had done? What if she’d had more faith in her own beliefs?

  There were times when she read passages in the journal that she became excited and eager to experiment herself. But this was a new day, not the thirties and forties when the Ransoms had done the majority of their transplant research. Now there was cloning to consider, cell creation, DNA testing, stem cell research, and the technological advances including bionics engineering.

  She had been lucky enough to interest the institute in the historical aspects of the Ransom experiments, but little had she known what she would discover here ‑‑ in the form of Athan. He made the records not just important for their historical significance, but to find out how the Ransoms had discovered the secret to immortality. And that was something that would be groundbreaking, even in today’s climate.

  Rules applied in structured research such as that which took place at the Morgan facilities. And the Ransoms had really followed no rules in what they had undertaken in their private experimentation. They would have been considered rogue. Bringing the dead to life. It was a taboo area in many respects, surpassing God and man. It was still something that horror books thrived on.

  Yet Athan lived, and he was no monster. Far from it. He was unique and there was no getting around it. If the institute’s scientists got their hands on him, she couldn’t begin to imagine how his humanity would be reduced to primal survival.

  As much as she wanted to share the discovery of the Ransoms’ successes, she couldn’t do it. She could only pray that Paul Cathcart never found out the truth about Athan. What were they going to do if he came back?

  She turned to Sheba’s journal and opened it. Near the end, her writing had turned sketchy and difficult to read. Her thoughts were haphazard. Korrie had not yet approached Athan about how the fire had started and how the Ransoms had died.

  Now knowing that Cornelius was insane at the end, why had he been in the laboratory and not confined in the tower? There were some things that didn’t make sense.

  Sheba Ransom had been close to eighty years old when she died in 1970, yet for the most part still in her right mind. How had Athan felt when he remained youthful but watched as the two people who had made him deteriorated so badly?

  If Athan was created in 1939 he would be around seventy years old ‑‑ at least in this incarnation. If one added the twenty-odd years that he looked, that would make him close to ninety or even one hundred. Not only had he witnessed the changes in the Ransoms, but in mankind. How must that feel to see the changing nature of man? From typewritten documents to computer-generated forms, from certainty of death to immortality.

  Yet the electricity he needed had always remained constant. He said he’d made alterations to the equipment over the years. He was an intelligent man and apparently had continued to study long after the Ransoms perished. How much more of a scientist and doctor was he than those who attended years of college and instruction? Including herself. There was so much about him that she still didn’t know or understand.

  She had barely tapped the surface here and was eager to learn so much more--if not for the institute, then for herself.

  Yet it truly went beyond that because she wanted to protect him in any way that she could. To have all this information and not be able to share it was indeed a difficult choice, but she was quickly coming to the conclusion it was necessary.

  There would never be normalcy in her life if she stayed here. There would be no children. She would grow old, and Athan would stay forever young. She guessed that would be many women’s fantasy. But it simply made her sad.

  She had envisioned another sort of life for herself, but how can one ever know what’s in store for them, what their destiny will be?

  In this moment she felt alone, but she had the option to leave, to go back to her life away from the Ransom estate. Athan had nothing, no one. Not really. There were choices she was left with. Decisions she must make.

  Suddenly she had to wonder if her life had been built around what her father had wanted for her, rather than what she wanted. The institute had been his life, and that’s what it became for her. Everything she had done with her life was to please him.

  A knock sounded at her door, pulling her thoughts away from hard decisions to be made.

  “Come in,” she called as she closed Sheba’s journal and slid it beneath some papers on her desk.

  Mrs. Grippen walked into her room. “I just wanted to check, Dr. Odell. Would you like dinner up here or will you be eating downstairs?”

  “Downstairs, thank you. I’m just finishing up some work here.”

  “Very well. I’ll be leaving shortly and I’ll keep dinner warming in the oven for when you’re ready.” She turned to leave.

  “Mrs. Grippen. You worked for the Ransoms when they were alive, didn’t you?”

  The housekeeper stopped, and Korrie could see her shoulders straighten and her spine stiffen. Her hand tightened on the doorknob. Then she slowly turned around, her face expressionless. “I was a young woman then. My husband was alive. We both worked for them back then. Until their deaths. The trustees of the estate asked me to stay on.”

  “Did your husband die in that terrible fire?”

 
; “Yes, ma’am.” She wouldn’t look her in the eye and suddenly Korrie knew there was more to Mrs. Grippen’s story than she was saying. Secrets she didn’t want to talk about.

  “It was your husband who looked after Dr. Ransom, wasn’t it.” She couldn’t help pressing.

  “Yes, ma’am. He looked after Dr. Cornelius.”

  She started to shuffle her way out the door. “I really shouldn’t be discussing this. I’m sorry, but I need to get back downstairs to finish dinner.” She hurried out the door and closed it softly behind her.

  Every day Korrie discovered something new about this place and the people who lived here. Was she ever going to find out exactly what happened in that fire? It appeared that Mrs. Grippen and Athan were the only ones alive who knew the truth from that night, and so far they weren’t talking.

  The answer to one question led to a series of more questions and seemed to solve nothing. It was like a maze getting to the truth in this house. She wanted to see Athan. Setting down her pen, powering down the laptop she’d been using to organize her thoughts, she stood up.

  She couldn’t concentrate on this report right now; the thoughts in her head were far too jumbled. She needed to get some fresh air to clear the cobwebs from her brain.

  She made sure to put the journal and notebooks away in her desk drawer and then shuffled the remainder of her papers into a pile. Then she pocketed her cell phone before leaving her room, just in case someone from the institute tried to reach her. Instead of heading toward the stairs that would take her to the main floor, something drew her in the other direction, to the staircase leading to the tower.

  Now that she had read the latest entries in Sheba’s journal she wanted to see the rooms where Cornelius Ransom had been confined. She should wait for Athan, to ask him about how it was, but something drove her onward. She didn’t want to wait. Maybe she would sense something if she went by herself. The ghosts in this place had been willing to reveal things to her before. Maybe they would do so again. Later, she would ask Athan more about the night of the fire.

  Climbing the steps, she reached the top, arrived at the door and found it unlocked. Pushing it inward, she stepped inside. The sunlight streamed in through one of the curved windows. They were barred, and she imagined that had been done when these rooms were reinforced for Cornelius. There was a four-poster bed, and dusty white sheets covered most of the furniture. Walking to the far side, she stopped in front of one piece of furniture, pulled off one of the sheets, and found a writing desk beneath. A green fountain pen and inkwell rested to one side, and a notebook lay in the middle with a page half written.

  Korrie leaned closer to try to read what it said, but the handwriting was so bad she couldn’t make out the words. She walked over to the wall and looked at the books that lined the bookshelf, the numerous scientific journals scattered about. Every book on the shelf was about some form of scientific research, much of the experimentation done in the 1950s and 1960s. Cornelius seemed to have an extensive collection of writings on the first successful organ transplants in the fifties.

  Her gaze crept downward, and she encountered other titles. She lifted one from the shelf and opened it. The title struck her ‑‑ Prometheus Bound ‑‑ the story of the titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humankind. For doing that he was bound to a mountain to suffer for centuries. She remembered the story. She scanned the other books on the shelf.

  Obviously, Cornelius was struck by this myth for there were various versions on the shelf. She carefully replaced the volume and stepped back, almost tripping over something lying on the floor.

  She looked down and saw a book, the volume lying on its spine, opened and discarded. She picked it up to look at it. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a copy of Shelley’s Frankenstein. A well-worn volume to be sure. She walked back over to the desk and set it down.

  Better that her research be into the minds of the creators than the creation. What had they been thinking to embark on such experimentation?

  To some extent she understood Sheba’s desire to create. Somewhere deep down she apparently had the need to climb past the barrenness she felt in being unable to bear children. For her, Athan had been the fruit of her body ‑‑ her mind and knowledge had helped to form him. Her nurturing had helped to strengthen him to survive long after their deaths. And upon attaining this success, she felt no need to continue. Whatever came next was for love of her husband. It was all done because of that emotion. For Cornelius and for Athan.

  But what of Cornelius Ransom? What fueled his passion to continue, driving him ever deeper into insanity? This room spoke of a learned man. None of it made sense. Such driving ambition that ultimately destroyed not only him but apparently his wife as well.

  She turned and left the room. The next room she wanted to see was the remains of the laboratory. Why she needed to see it now, she didn’t know, but it somehow seemed important that she go there. Something was waiting there to be discovered.

  She stopped as she reached the door of the scorched laboratory. It was a sense of danger, something not right. She waited a moment, then gave herself a mental shake. It was this old house getting to her, its creaks and groans as the wind started to build outside. An unexpected shiver ran up her spine. She could smell it in the air. A fierce storm was approaching.

  Like ghosts walking across her grave.

  October 30, 1970

  Journal of Dr. Sheba Ransom

  We have reached the point where we need to hire additional help. The last housekeeper quit and I was required to find another to take her place. It has all become too draining, but the new couple is working out better than I expected. I hired a nice, young couple, Karen and Howard Grippen. Karen attends to the housekeeping duties and Howard monitors and cares for Cornelius.

  Howard served in the war and was injured and apparently is unable to work in his chosen profession as a pipefitter. I have paid for additional classes in nursing care so that he can attend to Cornelius’s needs. He is a heavyset man with thick muscles and a quick mind. We have given him the title of companion. And in this sense, for the first time, we have been required to take people into our confidence.

  Howard and Karen and their families have long been residents of Fall’s Creek. Both are only children and their parents have passed away. They had previously made the acquaintance of Athan on several occasions and are aware of the rumors. We spoke plainly, at least to some degree, about the nature of the experiments, but that Cornelius’s mind has faltered and he sometimes utters things that are completely untrue.

  They have some understanding that Athan is different and they do not ask questions. Both are hard working and do their jobs with dedication. I pay them well for their silence on certain matters and the arrangement seems to suit us all.

  I hear Cornelius ranting late into the night, angry at not being allowed to continue his work. I am now limited in my mobility as arthritis has set in, making movement difficult and painful on the best of days. I feel my mortality keenly. I do not give in to the exhaustion of life for I must remain vigilant for Cornelius.

  Howard sees that he is challenged with a game of chess on occasion and reads to him, for Cornelius’s eyesight is failing. Howard says he paces the floor at night mumbling to himself about experiments he plans to conduct. Some nights he has been able to slip in a sedative to quiet him. Others he is not so lucky, and Cornelius can be wily.

  It was difficult to explain his recent request for the services of the body thief. That is a part of our experimentation I had not shared with the Grippens and it took some creative explanation to cover Cornelius’s outburst and demand. But Howard seemed satisfied with what I told him.

  I visit Cornelius rarely these days because my presence seems to agitate him and it makes it more difficult for Howard to deal with him.

  I think back to our youth and our many adventures together. Our life. From the moment I met him while in my first year of medical school, I have loved and admir
ed him. It wasn’t until I was in the first year of internship at a local hospital and assisting one of the doctors when I looked up and saw him standing there across the corridor staring at him. I didn’t realize until that moment that he might actually notice me. He was so handsome, younger than me by five years, but that didn’t seem to matter. Even then he exuded confidence in his abilities. He knew what he wanted to do with his life and on our first date he said I would be his wife, his partner, in every way. In all these years, nothing has changed.

  He never forced me into choosing research ‑‑ it was a decision we came to together. I wanted to work with him and he always encouraged me to investigate the alchemical sciences as he knew I found it fascinating even though he had no interest in those aspects. We always found a way to work out our differences.

  He is my soul mate if such a thing exists. Even now I cannot bear the thought of our separation.

  They still come to Athan in the garden. I seem to live vicariously through them now when I watch the heat of their passion beneath my window. Particularly on those nights when he has just been infused by the electrophasm treatments and the electrical impulses surge through him deliciously. I remembered well the stunning shocks of ecstasy as we made love.

  This body and heart can no longer stand up to that much voltage and so I am a voyeur now, and I remember how it once felt to have him inside me that deeply and to feel the jolts as he spent into my womb. I long for those days when he made me feel as immortal as he.

  Yet he has not forsaken me entirely ‑‑ he will not allow it. And he still looks at me with love in his expression. Just last night, before he left for his laboratory to induce the electrophasm treatment, he came to me.

  Without a word, but the look of determination in his eyes.

  “Tonight,” he said, as he lifted me from my chair and carried me to the bed, “I will be inside you.”