Torment

by Jeremy Seals

“Completely understandable, my dear.”

  Eyes, ears, nose, and throat looked normal. Heartbeat and breathing were unlabored. Dr. Cort carefully examined baby Julia’s brow with a large wood handled magnifying glass, looking for even the smallest cut or irritation. A main concern was the dust rubbed into the children’s forehead. He would look over the swabs collected by Mrs. Root later. For now he would be satisfied no obvious chemical agent had been applied.

  Julia was good as gold during the physical. She watched the middle aged Doctor’s ruddy face, making the occasional sleepy grab at his watch chain. He was surprised and extremely grateful to the child. Less crying on the first case would make the other three go much easier.

  “Things look very good, Dolly,” Dr. Cort said confidently. “Whatever the old witch was up to, it did no harm. I prescribe a bath, meal, and a good night’s sleep for her and a bottle of ale for you.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord!” Dolly exclaimed. “I was so very worried! Thank you so much!”

  “If a rash or a cough show up in the next few days, bring her back in. I have a little worry about the powder the hag used, but hopefully it was nothing but ashes.”

  Rushing out to the waiting area to share her good news, Dolly was all smiles. New chatter started, but this Mrs. Root didn’t mind. It would help them all remain calm to know that the first check had gone well.

  The following three exams were much the same. Only one minor, yet potentially helpful discovery was found; a small, hard grey fragment that was stuck to one child’s wooly mini cardigan. Dr. Cort plucked it off with tweezers. He immediately put it under the lens of his microscope, making a harmless, yet disturbing discovery. Putting on a poker face, he placated the baby’s mother by assuring her that it was a biscuit fragment.

  When the last mother had been seen out by Mrs. Root, she joined the Doctor in his exam room. “I hope we never have another day like this one!”

  “Indeed,” Dr. Cort was hunched over his microscope. “I’m just thankful that that final parent didn’t press me on the identity of this little speck.”

  “Why? What is it?”

  “A bone fragment. Human or animal, I can’t tell, but it’s definitely a bone.”

  “Goodness!” Mrs. Root’s hands fluttered in disgust. “Oh, those poor dears! Are you going to tell the mothers?”

  Dr. Cort sighed, considering. “I’ll check my texts, but I cannot think of a single disease brought on by external exposure to bone. If nothing shows, I see no point in further upsetting them.”

  “Very good, Doctor. I’m not sure I’d want to know meself.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Meanwhile. Dolly was serving up a steak and kidney pie to her husband, who sat listening half-heartedly to his wife’s much embellished recounting of the horrific incident. Once hearing that Julia wasn’t harmed by the trauma, the exhausted carpenter turned one ear off. He expressed anger and asked questions in all the appropriate places.

  Julia herself sat quietly in her playpen. She blinked over her toys and hadn’t so much as touched her dinnertime bottle. Both parents chalked it up to the disruptions of the day. The baby would eat after a few hours sleep. They placed her in her crib, kissed Julia goodnight, and retired soon after.

  ******

  The clock in the living room bonged Midnight softly. Baby Julia woke at the sound. It was still dark outside, not time for Mama or Papa to be up. She was very hungry. Normally, this sensation could be remedied by crying out. Milk or water came soon after. This time, something in her mind said to be patient. Wait and be quiet, it whispered. Your appetite will be sated soon.

  Moments later, the window near her crib unlatched. It slid open quietly. Outside, a beautiful maiden reached through for Julia. She went willingly into the warm, pink hands. She toyed with the woman’s long red hair, enjoying the silky coils and the orange scent coming off it.

  They flew unseen over the rooftops. Julia shrieked with joy the entire trip. She was disappointed when they stopped, but happy to see three other tots waiting for them on a plush yellow blanket in the alley below.

  “See your friends?” the lovely lady said, voice gentle as a lullaby. “I’ve gathered you all up for a picnic! A grand feast!”

  After settling Julia on the blanket next to a jolly boy who yammered excitedly, the elegant woman waved one arm. Before their eyes emerged a meal of truly epic proportions. Mashed potatoes, mushy peas, mince, and best of all, a steaming, gooey pile of iced buns.

  “Eat up, my sweet little ones!”

  No further encouragement was needed. Greedy hands plunged into the repast. They scooped handful after handful into their mouths. Lack of teeth did not hinder their progress. The food was soft enough to slide down. It tasted wonderful, much better than the milk that awaited them at home.

  Whistling came to the woman’s ears. Her beaming smile at the children died away, replaced with a grimace of annoyance. The babies were oblivious to it. She stepped back into the shadows, eyes bright.

  A policeman walking the night beat passed by the alley’s mouth. One of the babies picked this inopportune time to belch loudly. The lady cursed, then grinned. This could serve her purpose. She whispered an incomprehensible word. Flesh rippled. Her finger bones extended, sharp talons pushing through her skin.

  “Who’s that?” the constable called, clicking on a flashlight. The beam fell onto the four feasting kiddies. “Well, what’s all this then? Where are your Mummies?”

  He’d caught a glimpse of the red stains on their hands and faces when someone powerful grabbed his neck from behind. The bobby struggled, pounding on the thin forearm to no result. A long, delicate hand reached around his body to his stomach. He was ripped just below the navel, eviscerated up to his gullet.

  Goggle eyed, the babies watched their benefactor set down a bone white platter laden with a dark red cherry pudding. They salivated. Chubby paws opened and closed in anticipation.

  The maiden smiled. “Go on, my lovelies. Dig in.”

  ******

  After the children had picked the fine dish clean of every last scrap, the lady gathered her charges up. They were returned to their unaware parents clean, full, and sleeping. No evidence of the nocturnal buffet was present.

  The woman could hear, even though it was blocks away, a crowd gathering at the picnic site. She was glad they had fled. Two mobs in one day was too much for even a creature such as she. Hopefully the police would find enough to keep them busy until after tomorrow night.

  *****

  Dolly woke when her husband’s alarm clock went off. Mornings were a busy time for her. Make some breakfast, pack a lunch, feed Julia, and finally, have some time to wash up.

  The baby was being particularly difficult. She didn’t want a bottle or to be moved from her crib. To boot, Julia had a loud, messy bowel movement that required both parents to take care of the mess. It left all three in a foul mood.

  Her husband stomped off to work, hastily packed luncheon in hand. Dolly plopped her sour tot into the playpen. Julia grumbled unhappily at this, but soon laid over to sleep. Her mother was relieved. She poured a second cup of tea and set about scrubbing the soiled nappy. Money was tight. Salvaging the diaper was a daunting, but necessary task.

  She put a large pot on the stove to boil, disgustedly examining the clout closer. She hoped that Julia wasn’t ill. The witch woman from the day before was very much still with her. An illness would mean a continuation of the unpleasantness.

  A thick grey splotch caught her eye. Something was sticking out of the waste. Dolly held her breath against the stink, bringing the nappy even closer.

  It was fur.

  ******

  Dr. Cort was the most experienced physician in the district. As a result, the police always came round to rouse him or interrupt his day whenever a death occurred. He didn’t really mind. Dealing with the deceased was usually preferable to the woes of the living. Plus they paid him a rather tidy sum for the duty.

  This p
articular crime he’d have gladly traded for fifty spoiled, colic ridden babbies.

  A human skeleton sat on a dirty picnic blanket surrounded by mutilated rat bodies. Piled to one side lay a ragged bobby’s uniform. Blood was literally everywhere, caked to the walls and floor of the alley, even dried on the gnawed bones.

  While all these things were disturbing enough, it was the fact revealed by his magnifying glass which was making Dr. Cort’s blood run cold; a myriad of tiny, sharp tooth marks littered the skeleton. The same thing showed on the rat’s bodies as well, though not as obvious.

  “What’s the word, Doc?” A burly sergeant asked. He sounded slightly sickened by the whole scene.

  “Not entirely sure,” Cort answered, rising from his crouched position stiffly. “Something with small, humanoid teeth ate both rodent and the poor constable.”

  “Humanoid? Do we have a band of pygmies running about?”

  “No clue. Maybe a ship from Africa smuggled some apes back that got free. Maybe someone from the zoo can take a look.”

  The sergeant whistled. “Will do. In the meantime, I’ve some bad news to break to the constable’s family. Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

  Back in his office, Dr. Cort sipped tea and looked out the window at the harbor. A strange crime. It made you wish for a simple shooting. His monkey theory was farfetched, but some wild animal attack was the likeliest cause. Sailors who travelled to exotic locations often collected foreign creatures to sell to the wealthy or to the zoo itself. Why, just last summer, an aspiring merchant had passed on after being bitten by a smuggled cobra.

  He couldn’t get the odd shape of the tooth marks out of his head. Though he knew better, they were, well, more human than what he’d wanted to admit to the police. Small, well, toddler sized. Cort made a note to get impression of the marks from the sergeant.

  Frantic voices broke into his musings. Dr. Cort groaned. A small time of quiet, Lord, that’s all he wanted. He set down his cup and walked out to the waiting room.

  “Doctor!” Dolly screamed. She clutched a swaddled Julia, who wailed like an air raid siren. “Oh thank Jesus! Something is very wrong with her! That hag did something! I knew she had!”

  “Calm down, Dolly!” Dr. Cort rolled his eyes internally. “Come into the exam room and I’ll have a look.”

  Julia immediately went silent placed her down on the leather topped table. She shot a mistrustful look at the adults and hissed, actually hissed at her terrified mother.

  “See!” Dolly shrieked. “It’s like she’s gone mad!”

  Dr. Cort leaned in close to the tot, smiling reassuringly. She withdrew to the table’s edge, whimpering. Julia’s eyes darted left and right, looking for some avenue of escape.

  “No need to fret,” Cort was thoroughly confused. Was this the same child he’d examined yesterday? “It’s your old mate, Dr. Cort. Let’s see what the problem is.”

  Suddenly, the baby lunged forward at the doctor’s outstretched hand. Julia bit deep into the webbing between thumb and forefinger. He yelled out in pain, resisting the instinct to fling the baby across the room.

  The child’s jaws were ratcheting down harder with each passing second. Cort pleaded for Julia to release him. Dolly was no help. Her hands were plastered to her face. She screamed shrilly, mercifully passing out before the wailing split his head wide open.

  Loathe as he was to do so, he drew a hand back to strike the child. Julia, perhaps sensing what was coming, abruptly let go with a final shake. Her last wrenching maneuver rewarded the tot with a mouthful of flesh.

  Dr. Cort wrapped his handkerchief around his bleeding hand clumsily. The baby sat with her head cocked, noisily chewing the meat. She looked like the dog on the RCA records gone crazy. What was she listening for?

  “Mrs. Root!” Cort called, stumbling out to the waiting room. “Please call for an ambulance!”

  His secretary was slumped over her desk, large bruise forming on her exposed cheek. A tall, beautiful woman, wearing a dark green cloak and holding a blackthorn walking stick stood over Mrs. Root. Three other babies sat at her feet.

  “Wh-who are you?” Dr. Cort whispered, intimidated by the regal lady’s stature. His wound was nearly forgotten.

  “A lonely old mother,” the woman croaked mockingly. “Come to claim a few children as my own.”

  “You…”

  “Yes, I was the one who kissed them. I fed them. Now they’ll come with me. First though, we need strength for our journey. Provide us with some nourishment, good physician.”

  Julia grabbed his left leg from behind. The others converged on him, the fiery beauty pulling Dr. Cort’s tongue from his mouth in a final gruesome kiss.

  Violation

  Even with the truck mounted wench, bringing up the coffin was nerve wracking. It groaned, creaked, bumping gently against the grave’s sides. Each time the latter occurred, Elise’s breath caught briefly in her throat. Jones was experienced though. He carefully monitored the casket’s progress, stopping frequently to shine a bright light on the muddy box and checking for cracks or leaks.

  If water had broken through the seal, no one made any money. Their buyers didn’t want moldy bones and tarnished jewelry.

  “So far, so good,” Jones muttered. Elise knew from years of working with the man that her de facto boss was talking to himself. “Yup. Nice, tight, and all right.”

  Bushes parted, making Elise jump. Mikey, the junior member of the crew, emerged, zipping up his fly. He was twenty, freckle faced, and had a perpetually tousled head of bright red hair, making him look like an overgrown Chuckie doll. Though she’d been skeptical at first on working with someone so young, the kid had won them both over by being an extremely good digger.

  Unfortunately, Mikey also had a significant crush on Elise. It was annoying, but she tolerated it. She was thirty, too thin, and had no other romantic prospects. Compliments were few and far between. Being treated to a meal was an even rarer occurrence. She was very careful not to lead the boy on. Breaking hearts wasn’t something she liked to do.

  A snort of laughter escaped her. It was a bad joke. Did you hear the one about the grave robber with a heart? She got it from the widow Perkins last night!!! Yuk! Yuk! Yuk!

  The coffin finally cleared the hole. Jones expertly manipulated the crane’s controls. Soon it was sitting on the grass beside the grave. Elise and Mikey undid the heavy duty cargo straps.

  “Okay,” Jones removed a scrap of paper from his breast pocket. “We have one Miss Liv Marius. Died 2002 at the ripe old age of 38. Our interested party believes that she practiced witchcraft, which makes this somehow valuable to our client. We are to collect the skull, spinal column, and both hands, all finger bones. Everything else we find belongs to us. Clear?”

  “Cool with me,” Mikey smiled a bit. “Who wants to crack it open?”

  “I will.” Elise flicked her head lamp on, examining the seal on the coffin. Cheap silicone stuff. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Undertaker was a corner cutter. Lucky for us.”

  From a shoulder bag of tools she selected protective gear and a spray can labelled “Dissolve-Ex.” Crab walking, fully aware Mikey was probably ogling her butt, Elise squirted a generous coat of the noxious substance around the lid. Goop ran, making thick streaks through the mud caked onto the sides.

  Jones seated a crowbar into a crack. He grunted. The concrete protested, but slowly came open. A fetid wave of air rushed out to greet them.

  “Oh man!” Mikey groaned, waving a hand around to disburse the smell. “Do you ever get used to that stink?”

  “Nope,” Jones began working on the other side of the coffin’s lid. “It’s a dead body. It’s going to stink. All you can do is work through it.”

  “Or wear a mask,” Elise gestured to her respirator. “Like I keep telling you to.”

  “Jones doesn’t,” Mikey’s brow furrowed. “What’s the trick?”

  “Menthol rub,” Jones grinned as the other seal broke. “Coat my u
pper lip with it.”

  “Oh.”

  Conversation stopped. The now exposed body was wrapped head to toe in a dark purple shroud. Mikey pulled a pair of heavy duty shears from his tool pouch and began to carefully cut through the thick fabric over the corpse’s head. Jones did the same from the feet.

  “Skull looks good,” Mikey reported. “Necklace here too. Yellow gold with purple stones on the pendent.”

  “Bangles on the left ankle,” Jones said. “Brass, probably. Careful of that spine now, Mike. The buyer wants it intact. Elise, get closer with your light. Keep young Michael on the straight and narrow.”

  She crouched beside the boy, noting his slight flush of pleasure, even in the shadows the head lamp cast over Mikey’s face. Kid had it bad all right. Flattering, but she was going to have to put a stop to it. His crush would eventually make for rougher working conditions and create friction in the group.

  Mikey was beginning to work through the ribcage to get at the prized spine when something growled from the underbrush. Elise shone her lamp at it, revealing a pair of bloodshot black eyes.

  “What-“Jones began, straightening up. A small furry creature burst from cover. Shiny teeth chomped down on Mikey’s wrist. He howled in pain, flailing about wildly in an attempt to dislodge the monster grinding its fangs through his skin to the bone.

  “Hold still!” Jones thundered. It cut through the confused, panicked haze enveloping Mikey’s mind. He instantly obeyed. One hard swing of the crowbar later, the young man was free. The skittering beast rolled about, squalling in rage and agony.

  Elise had produced her reliable little .380 automatic. She was drawing a bead on the twisting creature. Jones pushed the gun up and simultaneously smashed his tool into the animal’s head. The fearsome noise stopped.

  “Holy crap!” Mikey gasped. “What the hell was that? My arm hurts like a mothersucker!”

  “Raccoon,” Jones was looking closely at the bludgeoned body. “Rabid too. Bad luck for you, Mike.”

  “Oh man!”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the hospital after we finish up. Get you some shots and stitches.”