by Amy Cross
"Mr. Varvel!" Jerry said again, raising his voice a little.
"What?" Varvel asked, turning to him with an angry look in his eyes.
"Mr. Varvel, I'm sorry it took a little longer than expected," Jerry continued, flashing a fake and condescending smile, "but Dr. Marlowe was in the middle of some very important work. However, he's very kindly taken the time to -"
"You're Dr. Marlowe?" Varvel asked with a thick Eastern European accident, waving his umbrella in the air as if he meant to use it as some kind of weapon.
Marlowe opened his mouth to reply.
"You're him, huh?" Varvel continued, regarding him with evident disgust. "You're the one."
"I'm the one what?" Marlowe asked, feeling both annoyed and slightly amused by this angry little man. He took a step back, keen to ensure he was out of range of the umbrella.
"Come on," Varvel said, lunging at him and grabbing his arm, before attempting to lead him back along one of the corridors. "You can take me to see. Right now, huh? You can take me to see them. We'll wrap them up for the journey home."
"Get the hell off me!" Marlowe said firmly, pulling free.
"Dr. Marlowe has come down here to answer your questions," Jerry said, clearly struggling to remain polite. "I thought perhaps he could allay some of your fears, but that's only possible if the situation remains non-violent and non-threatening. Can you do that, Mr. Varvel?"
"Fears?" Varvel replied. "I have no fears. I'm just here to stop you from making a big mistake. You don't think there are consequences to disturbing hallowed ground? You think you can just rip bodies out of the soil and do whatever you want with them, and no-one's gonna notice?"
"What are you talking about?" Marlowe asked with a sigh, before turning to Jerry. "No-one's been ripping bodies out of the ground, hallowed or otherwise. I don't have time for this bullshit..."
"Gentlemen -" Jerry began to say.
"This is ridiculous," Marlowe said firmly. "Mr. Varvel, or whatever your name is, I'm a busy man. If you have something to say to me, I'd appreciate it if you could say it. I'm not going to listen to you, but if it'd make you feel better to shout at me, at least do it quickly."
"You're a smart-ass, are you?" Varvel asked, glaring at Marlowe.
"I can assure you that Dr. Marlowe is not a smart-ass," Jerry said.
"You're the one who's desecrating the bodies," Varvel spat back at Marlowe. "You have a load of human bodies up there, and you're cutting them open and playing with them and doing whatever you want! You're ignoring the will of God, and the will of the people who buried those bodies in holy ground!"
"Not quite," Marlowe replied. "I'm conducting a series of tests -"
"You're abusing them!" Varvel shouted. "You're playing with them! They were buried in accordance with the wishes of God, and you dug them up and brought them here so you could fiddle with them and stick things in them and do awful things!"
"No-one's sticking anything in them," Marlowe replied, trying to remain calm. "No-one's cutting them or slicing them at all. We're using scanning technology to look inside the bodies and get a better idea of what happened to them. It's all perfectly valid science, and it doesn't harm the tissue in any way. The bodies are going to be in exactly the same condition when we're done as they were when they arrived, and then we're going to send them back and it'll be like they never left their graves."
"And you think God won't notice?"
"I don't think an imaginary deity has much to say about anything," Marlowe said coolly.
"This is immoral!" Varvel shouted, before adding something in his own language.
"That's your opinion," Marlowe said calmly, "but frankly, it's none of your business."
"None of my business?" Varvel roared. "None of my business?" He turned to Jerry. "You hear this idiot? None of my business? He drags my countrymen halfway across the world and then he claims that it's none of my business! How would you like it if I dug up a load of your ancestors and hauled them off to some laboratory so I could poke them and dishonor their bodies? Those people were buried in accordance with God, and with respect to their souls, and now you come and dig them up like you're a dog digging up some juicy bones!"
"I don't have time for this," Marlowe replied, turning to walk away.
"Get back here!" Varvel shouted, finally making use of the umbrella by whacking it against Marlowe's arm.
"Jesus!" Marlowe shouted, leaping out of the way.
"Okay," Jerry said, stepping between the two of them. "I don't want to have to call the police -" Before he could finish the sentence, the umbrella thwacked him on the side of the head, sending him stumbling back a few paces.
"You hide behind your security," Varvel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the startled Marlowe. "You tell yourself you have total rights to be doing what you're doing. So what? It's just words. You're going against the wishes of these people and their families and our traditions." He paused for a moment. "It doesn't matter how deep you hide yourself under your clever words. God will find you, Mr. Marlowe."
"You have to leave now," Jerry said firmly, maneuvering Varvel to the exit. "Verbal disagreements are one thing, but physical violence is not tolerated. I'm going to have to physically prevent you from returning, do you understand? You're banned from this building indefinitely, and if you attempt to contact any member of staff in any capacity or at any time, the police will be involved. Okay?"
"Whatever," Varvel grunted, pulling free and starting to walk down the steps. He called something back at them, but it was in a language that neither Jerry nor Marlowe understood.
"Some people are nuts, huh?" Jerry said as he walked back over to Marlowe.
"Next time some asshole comes and tries to cause trouble," Marlowe replied, "do me a favor, yeah? Do your job instead of calling me down to deal with him."
"I just thought -"
"Do your fucking job," Marlowe said again, before turning and storming back along the corridor. He'd had enough of all these interruptions, and he was determined to get back to work. Day in, day out, he came to the museum and got his job done. He hit every deadline and he came in under every budget, and he couldn't help thinking that if everyone else was so conscientious, the world would be a much calmer place. He hated dealing with other people. At least dead bodies stayed put, and didn't answer back. Sure, they occasionally revealed surprises and fresh mysteries, but at least they didn't get up and start causing trouble.
Chapter Five
As soon as his clock reached 22:00, Marlowe stepped out of the storage room and began the slow walk up to his office. Once again, he was hoping to avoid bumping into anyone. Wade should have left an hour ago, and all the other offices should be empty by now. With the building empty, Marlowe would be able to get on with his work, free of interruptions. All he needed was peace and quiet.
When he reached the elevators, he was relieved to find that there was no-one around. After a moment, however, he stopped to undo his shoelaces and retie them. He told himself at first that his shoes had felt a little loose, but eventually he had to acknowledge the truth: he was loitering in case Kate Langley happened to be around. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd come to quite enjoy their accidental meetings. Tonight, though, there was no sign of her. Figuring she'd probably left earlier in the evening, Marlowe walked dejectedly through to his office and then finally to the laboratory, where the fifteen sets of skeletal remains were laid out as before. With Wade having spent the afternoon reassigning the markers and re-cataloging the condition of each specimen, the main work could finally begin in earnest, and Marlowe had decided to spend yet another night alone, doing what he did best: getting on with things, without any interruptions.
"Let's start with you," he said as he approached specimen 2B. "You're my favorite."
In many ways, 2B was both the most interesting and the most puzzling of all the bodies. For one thing, 2B was the corpse that seemed to have had its head removed and then later reattached; for another, 2B had considerably more skin and hair left,
which Marlowe assumed was a result of different environmental factors. There were even pieces of cartilage left in some of the sections, which was remarkable given that the body was recorded as having been buried in 1680. Every time he came to look at 2B, Marlowe was surprised by the amount of extant tissue. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was slowly growing.
In fact, if he was a superstitious man, he'd also swear that the lower jaw was moving a few millimeters each day, as if the skull was very slowly opening its mouth.
"What did they do to you?" Marlowe whispered, leaning closer and examining the thin, dry skin that still clung to parts of the face. The left side, in particular, seemed to be partially preserved, and there was even a small amount of matter left in the eye sockets, as if the eyeballs had shriveled in the grave. Peering into those two dark voids, Marlowe felt the irresistible tug of his imagination, trying to make him believe that there might be some vestige of the body's soul still lingering in the bones like a fine mist. Smiling, he reminded himself that this was just the way the human mind worked, and that souls existed only in fairy tales.
Looking closer at the cut around the neck, Marlowe noticed two unusual things. First, the incision seemed to be very clean and neat. Given that most decapitations in the seventeenth century would have been performed with a blunt instrument such an ax, Marlowe was surprised to see that in this case, a much sharper and more delicate instrument had been used. Second, he couldn't help but notice that the skin on either side of the cut seemed to have partly begun to heal. Again, this was something he hadn't noticed when examining the remains earlier. The only logical explanation was that the head was placed back on the neck shortly after decapitation, which meant that the skin perhaps made a cursory attempt to patch the wound even though the man was already dead. Although this was kind of an odd idea, it was the only thing that made sense right now, and Marlowe made a mental note to consult with a few colleagues in order to see if the theory could be defended.
"Wait here," Marlowe said, deciding that he wanted to get a better look at the wound. Setting his voice recorder on the table next to the corpse, he hurried through to the next room, where he grabbed a thermal imaging camera and quickly attached the lens he needed for such a delicate job. He was hoping to get a very specific and highly magnified image of the edges of the cut, in order to see if he could get a better estimate of the time difference between the head being severed and then the attempt to place it back on the neck. If he could -
Suddenly he heard a noise from the main room, as if something had been knocked to the floor. Setting the camera down, he hurried back through, but there was nothing to be seen. All the bodies were still in their usual place, and the main door was still shut. Still, Marlowe knew better than to question his senses, and he was certain that he'd heard something. Walking slowly between the tables, he was looking out for any sign that something unusual had happened. He was very much aware that a lesser mind would be filled with fear, but he reminded himself that he was a man of logic. Finally, he spotted something on the floor, and it took him a moment to realize that his voice recorder had somehow dropped from 2B's table.
"Don't like modern technology, huh?" he said with a smile, as he walked over and rescued the device. He was sure he'd placed it well away from the edge of the table, but he figured he must have made a mistake. Putting the voice recorder in his pocket, he went back through to finish setting up the thermal imaging camera, and he made an extra effort to ensure that there were no more sloppy mistakes.
After working for a few more minutes, he finally had the camera ready. This, he reminded himself, was why it was always better to work alone. No-one to explain things to, no-one to pester him with inane questions; just him, and his equipment, and his subjects, and silence. He knew this preference probably made him seem like a bit of a loner, and he was quite prepared to accept that he was anti-social, but he'd come to accept these aspects of his personality a long time ago, and he was tired of fighting them. At the age of thirty-two, he figured he'd achieved as much emotional development as was likely, and he was happy to just settle for his own company and his own way of doing things. The last thing he needed was disruption. In fact, the last thing he needed was other people at all.
"Hey!" said a voice suddenly.
Almost dropping the camera, Marlowe spun around to find Kate standing in the doorway, with a faint smile on her lips.
"Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just..." She paused for a moment. "Well, I was late leaving work, and when I got to the elevators, I was waiting by myself and I realized..." She paused, as if she was about to say something embarrassing. "Well, I kind of wanted to come and check up on how things are going." She glanced back through to the main room. "So have you come to any conclusions yet?"
"Not really," Marlowe said, trying to seem calm and collected. For a man who wanted to be alone, and who didn't like company, he had an annoying habit of becoming slightly clumsy whenever Kate was around. "Just bumbling along, you know? Working methodically and..." He paused, realizing that he was giving a dry and very academic answer. "One of the specimens is particularly interesting," he continued, figuring that it might be fun to share his findings with someone other than Wade. "Do you want to see?"
He spent the next few minutes showing Kate specimen 2B, and explaining the unusual nature of the cut that had initially severed the head from the body. Although he worried that he was going into too much detail, he reminded himself that he and Kate shared similar professional backgrounds, which meant that she should have no trouble following his train of thought. It was her intellect, as much as her looks, that attracted him, and he appreciated the opportunity to talk on level terms with a professional equal.
"One thing I've learned," Kate said eventually, after Marlowe had finished explaining the mysteries surrounding specimen 2B, "is that you can never discount irrationality. Humans sometimes do the weirdest things, for reasons that only make sense in their own minds. Sure, you can figure things out most of the time, but occasionally you'll get totally stumped. It's a good lesson in life, actually. People are weird, and there's nothing any of us can do about it."
"The other fourteen bodies have a substantial number of common traits," Marlowe continued. "This one, however, just seems a little different. The skin is so well-preserved in places, and the traces of hair..." He paused, trying to come up with some kind of explanation. Sure, he'd been telling himself that environmental factors in the burial might have played a part, but in the back of his mind there was a voice that kept nudging him and reminding him that this was unlikely. The mystery excited him, not because he believed in vampires, but because he was certain that there was a rational explanation waiting to be discovered.
"There was a case in South America where a number of Inca burial sites were found to contain well-preserved bodies," Kate replied. "Have you considered the possibility that herbs were used to create some kind of balm? That's what the Inca were up to."
"There's no comparative tradition in the region," Marlowe said, "and besides, I've already done a cursory examination and I found no traces of any kind of substance. There's probably some other explanation. Rule out everything else, and what you're left with, no matter how improbable, is likely to be the truth."
"You want to get a drink and talk it over?" Kate asked suddenly.
"What?" Marlowe asked, feeling his chest tighten and his blood start to run cold.
"A drink," Kate continued, a little tentatively. "You know, liquid in a container, poured down the throat?" She waited for a reply. "Just a thought..."
"I just had a coffee, actually," Marlowe replied, staring down at the body. Suddenly, in the back of his mind, a dusty part of his consciousness kicked into gear and forced him to look over at Kate, and he realized he was starting to swear profusely. "You mean... now? As in... outside... somewhere?"
"You're planning to work late," she said, looking a little disappointed. "I'm sorry, it was a crazy idea..."
&n
bsp; "No," Marlowe replied, desperately trying to back-peddle, "No, it's not. I mean, I have a lot to do, but -"
Before he could finish, a door opened at the far end of the room and Wade appeared, carrying a large plastic crate.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Marlowe asked, feeling as if his late-night sanctuary was being completely invaded.
"You always said I should show some initiative," Wade replied, placing the crate on a nearby desk, "so I bribed Jerry to let me stay overnight. I thought I could get some work done by myself. Don't take offense, Dr. Marlowe, but I've been thinking about it and I've come to the conclusion that I kind of work better alone, when there's no-one to disturb me. I tend to second-guess myself too much if I think someone's watching. I'm sure I can be more productive if I work like this, although obviously I'll have to go and take a nap in the morning."
"But..." Marlowe started to say, before realizing that somehow, in a twisted, roundabout way, he and Wade were maybe a little more alike than he'd realized. He'd never pegged Wade as someone who could show such dedication, and it was the first time in many years that he felt he'd genuinely been proven wrong about someone.
"I should get going," Kate said. "Good luck with the -"
"I'll come with you," Marlowe said, deciding to seize the moment.
"You will?" Kate replied, looking shocked.
"We'll get that drink," Marlowe continued, feeling a sense of relief flood through his body. "We'll talk about the Inca and their body preservation methods and anything else you think might be useful." He paused, realizing that he didn't really sound much like himself right now. "I'll see you in the morning," he added as he turned to Wade. "Don't forget to get thermal images of 2B's neck area. I've already set the camera up, so..."
He turned back to Kate, who had a faint smile on her face. For a moment, Marlowe was overcome with fear; he'd spent so long daydreaming about spending time with Kate away from the museum, he'd neglected to prepare adequately for the possibility that it might actually happen. For a fraction of a second, he felt compelled to cancel the drink, before he realized that it was now or never. Even if he did feel faintly embarrassed by his juvenile reaction to the whole thing.