by Kevin Lucia
He was still imagining himself as Bobo the Gibbering Clown in Dr. Jeffers’ Traveling Weirguild Roadshow when the room went away.
#
They took parts of his intestines next.
“We don’t need everything, of course,” Dr. Jeffers said pleasantly as he began. “Just enough to patch Buddy up. His stomach was burned badly, buried beneath all that smoldering garbage.”
Dr. Jeffers and his nurse gently coiled slick, gray lengths of his intestines into a gray bin. “Perhaps you’re wondering how all this is possible?”
Dr. Jeffers extracted another length of intestine from Craig’s gut, which pulled free with a sucking sound. He threaded it to the nurse, then returned to Craig’s side.
“Procedures like these are not possible using conventional medicine.” Craig’s eyes were still taped open. He’d no choice but meet the doctor’s gaze. “This is all due to your father’s occult knowledge. Without it, both you and Buddy would bleed out instantly; die of shock, or the transplants wouldn’t knit together properly.”
He looked about to continue, but stopped. Instead, he laid a hand on Craig’s shoulder. “Rest. The last – and hardest – follows.”
A warm, fuzzy cloud of anesthesia descended and covered the world.
#
“We’ll increase the sedation for this, just a bit. It’ll be the most painful step, your final repayment to Buddy.”
They started at his feet, cutting through skin and muscle, slashing tendons and ligaments with looping, circular cuts. Then… they peeled.
Pain.
Oh, God… the pain.
Craig wailed silently as nerves blazed like fireworks until they died, ripped away in the skin and muscle torn from him. As they pulled away thick, corded tissue from around his thighs a writhing stick figure emerged. This awful thing jigged and jittered as gentle hands cut, lifted, and folded. Spiny red limbs dripped with gossamer threads.
And then… the last.
They cut under the chin first.
And even full of drugs, he felt pressure swell from that point around his neck, a phantom noose pulling tight in the scalpel’s wake. Then, gloved fingers dug under the edge and slowly peeled the skin up and away from his face.
Finally, it pulled free.
His skull popped out of its skin and hair cap with a plop and thumped wetly onto the table. He stared with horrified fascination into the mirror above at the reflection of his new face; the bald, gristle-spotted pate, cavernous eyes and cheekbones, looming nose-hole and grinning-death teeth.
It was the last thing he saw before…
#
He awoke.
And something felt different.
He was sitting upright. The light was dimmed. Though a warm blanket still enveloped him and deadened the pain, things seemed clearer. He didn’t feel any restraints… but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t close his eyes either, and he realized with a cold rush that was because he didn’t have eyelids to close, anymore.
A mirror hung on the opposite wall. In it, his reflection: a pitifully thin figure, reclined, wrapped in gauze with eye, nose, and mouth holes. Wet redness seeped through in spots. Cardiac and respiration equipment loomed at his bedside. He swallowed and felt a plastic tube in his throat.
The door opened.
And in walked Dr. Jeffers wearing his office clothes, followed by a handsome smiling young man dressed in khakis, a white polo shirt, with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. Though his face looked slightly inflamed – like he was recovering from an allergic reaction – he bore a strong resemblance to…
Craig couldn’t scream, of course.
But the escalating ping, ping, ping, PING! of his heart monitor did it for him.
Looking concerned, Dr. Jeffers moved to adjust one of the IV drips, presumably his sedation. Craig’s warm, heavy blanket pressed down harder and the pinging slowed.
“That’s better.” Dr. Jeffers pulled up a chair, the man – the impossible man – following suit. “We nearly lost you after that last procedure. Would hate to lose you now.”
He paused, waving a hand at the young man sitting next to him. “Here he is. Alive, healed… in the flesh. Your flesh, more accurately.”
Son of a… son of a…
BITCH!
“The swelling has receded nicely.” Dr. Jeffers ran a finger down Buddy’s face. Buddy grinned and knocked it away playfully. “Fortunately, most of that was done with rather pedestrian analgesics and anti-inflammatory creams. In a week’s time, he’ll be completely healed.”
M-m… my face. That’s my face…
MY FACE!
Dr. Jeffers turned back, looking regretful. “Sadly, there are limits even to your father’s knowledge. We weren’t able to repair Buddy’s vocal chords and removing yours seemed too risky. Your father explicitly stated in his will you were to survive the procedure, so I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
Buddy smiled and nodded. He looked at Craig, gratitude shining in his eyes. Confusion swirled into Craig’s broiling hate.
“Also, his ears are completely cosmetic. He’s both deaf and mute, but he’s picked up sign language very well.” Dr. Jeffers paused, signed something and Buddy chuckled, his laughter strange, scratchy and mewling… but sound that could be heard, all the same.
Damn you, Pop… DAMN YOU!
“Of course, there’s not much we can do about Buddy’s mental limitations. However, your father DID set aside two sizable trust funds. One to fund your care and another, larger one to see that Buddy never has to work again. That, and…”
Dr. Jeffers glanced at Buddy and grinned. Signing as he talked, he said, “In a week, Buddy will be quite an attractive fellow. I don’t think he’ll lack for female companionship.”
Unbelievably, Dr. Jeffers mimed a generous hip thrust, at which Buddy broke out into scratchy peals of laughter.
Kill you… goddamn… kill you…
Dr. Jeffers sobered and waved a hand. Buddy calmed down. “Most importantly, Buddy is immensely grateful. You have repaid your Weirguild and more than that, you’ve acted like a true brother.”
He stopped signing and raised his eyebrows. “We didn’t transplant your vocal chords, but we did cut them so that you won’t be able to tell anyone the truth, and it’s doubtful – with the amount of tissue we’ve taken from you – that you’ll ever be able to write anything or make any meaningful movements ever again. Buddy will never know the truth, but it’s better that way, don’t you think? That he’ll always believe you offered this, freely.”
Dr. Jeffers looked at Buddy, who rose and knelt next to the bed. Gently, he cupped the back of Craig’s head and stared with baby blue eyes Craig wasn’t sure he’d ever really seen before today. Buddy touched foreheads with him and grunted something that needed no translation.
Thank you.
Craig broke into little pieces inside. Aw, Buddy… I’m sorry… so sorry…
Buddy nodded once, grunted again and stood. Dr. Jeffers stood also. They walked for the door.
Wait! Buddy, don’t leave me! Not after this! Buddy! Don’t LEAVE!
Buddy gave a big, friendly wave and a thankful smile that burned into Craig’s memory. Dr. Jeffers clapped him on the shoulder, and Buddy – now Craig – walked out the door.
NOOOOOOOOOOOO!
BUDDDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Dr. Jeffers followed but stopped in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hartley. Our staff is caring and professional. We have fine equipment. You should live for a very long time. Thirty-three years, at the very least.”
He offered Craig a thin smile. “Also… you’ll finally get to have those words with your father.”
He turned and closed the door.
Clifton Heights Stories:
The Sliding
Way Station
The Gate and the Way
As The Crow Flies
Scavenging
Almost Home
Clifton Heights Collections
:
Things Slip Through
Clifton Heights Books:
Drowning (coming soon)
The Jabberwock (coming soon)
About the Author
Kevin Lucia is a Submissions Reader for Cemetery Dance Magazine and his podcast "Horror 101" is featured monthly on Tales to Terrify. His short fiction has appeared in several anthologies.
He’s currently finishing his Creative Writing Masters Degree at Binghamton University, he teaches high school English and lives in Castle Creek, New York with his wife and children.
He is the author of Hiram Grange& The Chosen One, Book Four of The Hiram Grange Chronicles. His first collection of Clifton Heights Tales, Things Slip Through was published November 2013. He’s currently working on his first novel.