This Saturday’s Theme is DUNGEON. Write a piece with a minimum of 500 words and a maximum of 1500. Check BACK for a #FREEREAD. We’ll give you the first chapter of 21 24 by Simon Critchell and Jason Hughes!
Anyone who has known me for longer than 5 years knows this is my ultimate, favorite picture. So this week, I decided not to hog it for myself and share it for inspiration for today!
By her "Darque Design," Lisa Vasquez creates vivid, twisted horror with the precision of a scalpel, and cuts into the reader's psyche with "fleshed out" characters.
In her most recent release, THE UNFLESHED: TALE OF THE AUTOPSIC BRIDE, the main character, Angus Wulfe, gains notoriety for being as vile and twisted as the iconic Dr. Hannibal. Lisa's writing style has been compared to the works of Mary Shelley, Baz Luhrman, and the Grand Guignol (John Palisano, Bram Stoker-winning author of NERVES), and is being hailed as, "A writer of nightmarish vision and a new, poetic voice in today's horror genre" (Peter Molnar, author of THE CLOCKWORK LAZARUS).
There is one crown upon her head as the UNSAINTLY QUEEN but she wears many hats.
CEO of Stitched Smile Publications
Editor-in-Chief of House of Stitched Magazine
Artist/Owner of Unsaintly Art Studios
Artis/Owner of Darque Halo Designs (book covers and formatting)
Mentor and Proofreader: Halo Equinox
She has appeared, and hosted, several panels at the following conventions:
Houston's Comic Con (2016, 2017, 2018)
Eastern Rim (2018)
Scares that Care (2018)
ScaryDad's Haunted Halloween Show (2017, 2018)
For more information and updates on Lisa's work, you can find her at:
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View all posts by The Unsaintly Queen, Lisa Vasquez
5 thoughts on “#StitchedSaturday 7/13/19”
One Flesh
by
Ezekiel Kincaid
I started to wake. It felt like I had been asleep for days. Didn’t surprise me though. With all the sex and booze, I was in a pleasure comma. I went to move my right arm and roll over, but it didn’t comply.
Shit.
I’m sure Rebecca was laying on it. I didn’t want to wake her. My left arm was stretched out just above my head. I went to bring it over and it stopped short, then I was startled by a clinking sound. My eyes popped opened and I stared up at the ceiling. We weren’t in Rebecca’s room anymore. There was sunlight shining through from somewhere, trickling across the wall. I looked up again and noticed a row of spotlights. Then it dawned on me. We were in the basement.
I yanked my left arm again and it made the same jingling sound. I glanced up and my left wrist was bolted in a clamp that was connected to a chain. I couldn’t tell where the chain was hooked. I then stared down at my body. I was still naked and lying on some sort of mattress.
“Funny,” I mumbled. “I don’t remember coming down here and doing any S&M stuff.” I jiggled the chain again. “Hey Rebecca when…” I turned my head to the right. I had to do a double take and blink my eyes several times, because there was no way that what I was seeing could be real.
My right arm was gone, cut off from the shoulder. Stitched to it with skillful precision was Rebecca’s left shoulder. Her left arm was missing. Her head was titled to the right and she was still out. I looked her over. Her right arm was bolted in a clamp and chained above her head, just like my left one. The sensation in my right arm (or lack of one), was eerie. It still felt like my arm was there. I even tried to move it. It remined me of the time when I had surgery on my hand.
I shook my head and blinked a few more times but the scenery didn’t change.
The panic set in.
It wasn’t the type of panic we ascribe to the sensation that comes over us when we realize we’ve forgotten about a meeting or left the food in the oven too long. No, it was a feeling of terror and trepidation in the marrow of my bones. Sheer, raw panic.
My breathing picked up and sweat began to trickle from every part of my body. I spoke between breaths. “Oh motherfuckingshit Rebecca wake up…what the fuck…” I wanted to cry. “Rebecca! Wake up goddammit!”
A voice came from somewhere in the room. “If I was in your situation, the last thing I would be doing is taking the Lord’s name in vain.”
I recognized the tone. I had become all too familiar with it over the past semester. It was Dr. Kamer. I gazed around the room but because of my position and the low light, it was hard for me to see where he was. Then there was a cranking sound and I heard the chains rattle. I went to pull my left leg up, but it was clamped as well. I tried to move my right leg and it felt stuck on something. I felt a tug on my wrist. The chains were moving, pulling Rebecca and I up into a standing position.
I stared down at the rest of our bodies as it lifted us off the mattress. We were both still naked, and the reason my right leg felt stuck was because it was gone, severed from the hip. Connected to my right hip was Rebecca’s left one. Her leg was missing as well, and the same immaculate stitch job that adorned our shoulders was also present on our hips.
I lost it.
I screamed and cried, no, bellowed and sobbed was more like it.
We were now fully erect, and Rebecca’s head hung down like a slobbering drunk. In front of us, from the shadow of the room, emerged Dr. Kamer. His once white lab coat was stained crimson. His blue scrubs were smeared red and dangling from his left hand was a pair of yellow, industrial strength cleaning gloves that were caked in dried blood. He moved towards us and a ray of sunlight fell across his face. The look in his dark blue eyes was one of satisfaction; of great pleasure in what he had accomplished.
When he reached us, he didn’t say a word to me. He dropped the gloves from his hand and began to pat Rebecca on the cheek. “Rebecca. Rebecca darling, time to get up. Your adulterous days are over my love.”
She rolled her head and moaned, trying to wake up. Dr. Kamer patted her a few more times, and her head swiveled.
“Rebecca honey…wake…UP!” A load pop rang out as Dr. Kramer slapped the shit out of her.
She awoke from her daze, trying to focus. Dr. Kramer held her cheeks in his hands and looked her in the eyes. When consciousness dawned, she realized it was James’ eyes she was looking in and not mind.
She shrieked.
Dr. Kamer shook her head and laughed. “That’s right, cry it up bitch. But it’s only downhill from here.” He let go of her head and submerged into the shadows.
I heard a flicking sound and then the spotlights above beamed over us.
Rebecca turned and looked at me. “Thom?” She was confused. Then she noticed our shoulders. Whatever fairy-tale or dreamland she thought she was in evaporated. The cold, harsh reality of our circumstances slapped her in the face like Dr. Kamer’s hand. She screamed again. “Ohmygodohmygod Thom my arm where is my fucking arm!”
I stared back at her, tears in my eyes and voice shaking. “I don’t know baby. But do me a favor. Keep your eyes up. Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t fucking look down.”
She started to convulse with grief. The sobs leaving her mouth made a chopping sound. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No!” She shrieked again. “James, you bastard what did you do…what…did…you do?” Rebecca opened her eyes and put them back on me. “Thom, I have to look. Please.”
I shook my head. “No, no, no, no, please don’t, please don’t Rebecca.”
“Thom I have to…I have to!” She was teetering on the edge of hysteria.
I kept pleading with her but she didn’t listen.
When she saw her hips, she made the plunge. She tried to slide her right arm out of the chain and threw her body forward. Currents of pain dug deep into our shoulders and hip. I winced, and she cried out.
“Ouch sonofabitch, don’t do that Rebecca.”
“He’s right.” Dr. Kamer was walking towards us again, holding a metal folding chair. He opened it and sat down about three feet from us. “The metal rod connecting your shoulders and hips might slip loose, then you’ll be in a world of hurt.”
Hearing his voice caused Rebecca to snap out of her mania. We both gawked at him, fear hugging our souls.
“You a religious man, Thom?”
Still breathing heavy, I shook my head.
“No? Well, Rebecca and I are. Bet you didn’t know that did you?”
I shook my head again.
“You see Thom, I’d expect a heathen like you to do what you did, but Rebecca, she knows better.” He looked up at her and she cried harder. He continued. “Even though you’re not a religious man Thom, I bet you are familiar with the Ten Commandments huh?”
I nodded, tears forming again in the corner of my eyes.
“You know what the seventh one is?”
I didn’t know, but I figured it out. “Do not…don’t commit adultery.”
Dr. Kamer tilted his head and nodded. “Good. Good, Thom. You know, Jesus said what God has joined together, let no man separate.” He stood up from the chair and started to pace. “You know why adultery is such an egregious sin? No, I’m sure you don’t, so I’ll tell you. It is the ultimate violation of trust and loyalty. The ultimate betrayal. You see, the husband and wife, when they are joined, are said to be one flesh. Adultery rips the two apart, because the adulterer leaves their spouse and becomes one with someone else. The adulterer has defiled themselves and become unclean.” He stopped and stood in front of Rebecca.
“Honey, tell me if this sounds familiar. ‘And behold, the woman meets him, dressed as a prostitute, wily of heart.’ You recognized it yet?”
Rebecca kept crying.
“Let me skip ahead a little. ‘She seizes him and kisses him, and with a bold face she says to him, I had to offer sacrifices, and today I have paid my vows; so now I come to meet you, and to seek you eagerly, and I have found you.’ No? Still don’t? Oh, let me get to my favorite part. ‘Come, let us take our fill of love till morning; let us delight ourselves with love. For my husband is not home; he has gone on a long journey.’ That’s Proverbs 7 my love, and you are that woman.”
Dr. Kramer was now standing to my left. He whispered in my ear. “It is time for the two of you to pay for your sins. We are going to play a little game called Pin the Piece on the Adulterer. I’m going to cut off each part of your bodies that lead to the adultery and nail them to my wall.”
I watched as Dr. Kamer disappeared into the shadows.
“Some things you never forget,” NYPD Sergeant Brad Deegan said to his junior partner, Scott Tierney. “Like I remember nickel wing night.” The duo of policemen walked through the New York Subway together on patrol. Deegan’s partner stopped walking and tipped his hat back on his head.
“Nickel wing night? How fucking old are you?” A genuine look of surprise decorated officer Tierney’s face.
“No bullshit. My Mom and Dad would get wings all the time. We lived next door to this bar called the Track Kitchen. Thursday night was Nickel Wing night.”
“So yer telling me, your family ate chicken wings every Thursday for dinner.”
“Pretty much the case, at least for as long as we lived next to the joint.”
“So you were what? One, two years old?”
“No. I was a bit older. Like three or four years old.”
“How the fuck do you remember back that fucking far, Sarge?”
“I don’t know. Just some things you always remember, never forget.”
“Maybe that’s why yer such a hard ass, you remember your potty training.”
“Very funny, boy.” Deegan slapped his subordinate on the back.
“I’ve got your boy right here, old man,” the junior officer quipped back.
“Speaking of which, did that cream help with the rash?”
“Hey, fuck you, you little shi -” Deegan was about to swat Tierney’s hat off his head when he stopped in mid-jest. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell what? You drop a bomb?”
“No, no. Seriously, do you smell that? Like rotting meat?”
“No, man, all I smell is junkie sweat, oil and piss.” The rookie shrugged his shoulders. Deegan knew something was off. He was walking all over the platform, looking over the edge. Tierney stood and watched his senior partner on his quest to find something rancid. The sergeant pulled out his long, baton-like flashlight. It came to brilliant life, illuminating the darkness below.
“How about you help me find the dead body over here. Some junkie probably hit the third rail. Be careful, the body’s got to be in pieces.” Deegan stared at Tierney, making eye contact to show he was fucking around. Well?”
“Don’t get your balls in a bunch, there, Sarge,” Tierney said as he joined his superior at the edge. The stench hit him like a truck. “Holy fuck. That’s awful.”
“As I said, some things you never forget, and a ripe old dead body on the tracks, it leaves behind a memorable odor.”
“Memorable is a word for it. Shit. Un-fucking-forgettable is more like it. Did you see anything down there?” Tierney watched the Sergeant shake his head in response. “Then where is it.”
“I think it’s right here. Look.” Deegan flashed his light down into a storm trap next to the train rails. Tierney looked over his partner’s shoulder. Inside the recess, a dim light flickered from an open door. White tiles lined the walls of a long corridor, leading underneath the platform they stood on. The stink was ripe and rose from the opening.
“Holy shit. What is this? A service tunnel?”
“I think so. I’m going in.” Deegan hopped down into the recess. His eyes watered from the stench. He pulled a napkin out of his pocket and covered his mouth with it. The makeshift filter failed miserably. Tierney joined him and the duo walked down the hall. It ended at a set of closed, wooden, double doors. Both officers pulled personal sidearms out from their respective holsters. Deegan looked to Tierney and nodded. The junior officer was waiting for a signal from his superior and didn’t waste any time kicking the doors open.
Behind the doors was a makeshift surgery center. Filthy, with blood streaks on the floors and walls, this wasn’t a place you went to for repairs. No, this was a place you went to for death. A desiccated body laid on a gurney on the far side of the room, next to it stood a tall man in surgical scrubs, an elasticized face mask covered his mouth and nose. He held a person’s face in his hands, inspecting it. There was no skull underneath the skin. Deegan assumed the culprit holding the skin mask in his hands was the same person to flay it from the victim’s person. The doctor…
‘If you’d call him anything right now it would be doctor, right?’ Deegan thought to himself.
…The doctor set the gruesome trophy on the remains next to him.
“I’m afraid you can’t be here, gentlemen. Carry on, toodles.” He waved his hands at the officers, shooing them off as if they were flies.
“Stay where you are, don’t move.” Deegan pointed his pistol at the blood-covered surgeon. The doctor ignored them both.
“You can’t be here, in this place. There are rules. And you are breaking them. So, please. Be on your way gentlemen, otherwise, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you.”
“Well, buddy, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you if you don’t get on your knees right fucking now and put your hands behind your back,” Deegan commanded. The man didn’t flinch. “Do it, now, motherfucker.” Brad aimed for the doctor’s left leg, a wounding shot. He prayed he wouldn’t need to take it. If the doctor failed to comply…
“As you wish, gentlemen. God bless your damned souls.” He dropped to his knees and placed his hands in behind his back.
“Souls? The fuck you talking about, souls?” Deegan said as he cuffed the man, “Praying, though I understand. I pray you have the right to remain silent, any other fucking words you spit out of your pie hole can and will be used against you in a court of fucking law. You sick fuck.” Deegan said. He saw Tierney’s face was one of white, frozen terror. Deegan turned his in time to see the ribs of the victim on the gurney folding back into place. The skinless torso bubbled, as flesh dripped and mutated. Two skeletal arms raised up, bits of sinew hanging from the bones, and grasped the flayed mask. The skull rose up, and the hands pulled the mask down over it.
“Some things you never forget,” It spoke, sounding like a young Deegan.
“What in the fuck?” Deegan said. He watched as the corpse continued to shift and morph, healing and regenerating, the flesh folding over itself as it created new muscles, sinew, skin, and hair. “Scott, are you seeing this, Scott?” Deegan turned his head. His young partner was shifting, vibrating in place.
“Sarge, I don’t feel so…” And he disappeared.
“Tierney! Oh my fucking God, no, what in the hell is going on here?”
“Nothing you can understand, Sarge,” Scott answered him.
“Who, what?” Brad couldn’t believe his ears. He just watched his partner shimmer away. The only other person in the room who could possibly speak was kneeling before him. Brad looked down at the doctor and ripped the surgical mask off.
The doctor’s face was Scott Deegan’s.
‘What’s going on here?’ Brad’s mind wasn’t able to process any of this madness.
“Speaking of chicken wings, did I ever tell you about my aunt who would join us on nickel wing night? She was a crazy old broad with no teeth who ate her wings with a knife and fork.” Brad heard his voice coming from the amorphous corpse. He saw his face on the skin mask adorning the skull. He watched as his arms shimmered and faded, as his perception shifted from one body, into another.
“Shall we start again?” Scott asked Brad.
Might as well, they’ll be back soon.” Brad replied and sat back on the gurney. The doors to the surgical chamber swung shut of their own volition.
Scott pulled the surgical mask back up over his face and produced a scalpel from within a pocket on his scrubs…
Stitched Smile Publications 
One Flesh
by
Ezekiel Kincaid
I started to wake. It felt like I had been asleep for days. Didn’t surprise me though. With all the sex and booze, I was in a pleasure comma. I went to move my right arm and roll over, but it didn’t comply.
Shit.
I’m sure Rebecca was laying on it. I didn’t want to wake her. My left arm was stretched out just above my head. I went to bring it over and it stopped short, then I was startled by a clinking sound. My eyes popped opened and I stared up at the ceiling. We weren’t in Rebecca’s room anymore. There was sunlight shining through from somewhere, trickling across the wall. I looked up again and noticed a row of spotlights. Then it dawned on me. We were in the basement.
I yanked my left arm again and it made the same jingling sound. I glanced up and my left wrist was bolted in a clamp that was connected to a chain. I couldn’t tell where the chain was hooked. I then stared down at my body. I was still naked and lying on some sort of mattress.
“Funny,” I mumbled. “I don’t remember coming down here and doing any S&M stuff.” I jiggled the chain again. “Hey Rebecca when…” I turned my head to the right. I had to do a double take and blink my eyes several times, because there was no way that what I was seeing could be real.
My right arm was gone, cut off from the shoulder. Stitched to it with skillful precision was Rebecca’s left shoulder. Her left arm was missing. Her head was titled to the right and she was still out. I looked her over. Her right arm was bolted in a clamp and chained above her head, just like my left one. The sensation in my right arm (or lack of one), was eerie. It still felt like my arm was there. I even tried to move it. It remined me of the time when I had surgery on my hand.
I shook my head and blinked a few more times but the scenery didn’t change.
The panic set in.
It wasn’t the type of panic we ascribe to the sensation that comes over us when we realize we’ve forgotten about a meeting or left the food in the oven too long. No, it was a feeling of terror and trepidation in the marrow of my bones. Sheer, raw panic.
My breathing picked up and sweat began to trickle from every part of my body. I spoke between breaths. “Oh motherfuckingshit Rebecca wake up…what the fuck…” I wanted to cry. “Rebecca! Wake up goddammit!”
A voice came from somewhere in the room. “If I was in your situation, the last thing I would be doing is taking the Lord’s name in vain.”
I recognized the tone. I had become all too familiar with it over the past semester. It was Dr. Kamer. I gazed around the room but because of my position and the low light, it was hard for me to see where he was. Then there was a cranking sound and I heard the chains rattle. I went to pull my left leg up, but it was clamped as well. I tried to move my right leg and it felt stuck on something. I felt a tug on my wrist. The chains were moving, pulling Rebecca and I up into a standing position.
I stared down at the rest of our bodies as it lifted us off the mattress. We were both still naked, and the reason my right leg felt stuck was because it was gone, severed from the hip. Connected to my right hip was Rebecca’s left one. Her leg was missing as well, and the same immaculate stitch job that adorned our shoulders was also present on our hips.
I lost it.
I screamed and cried, no, bellowed and sobbed was more like it.
We were now fully erect, and Rebecca’s head hung down like a slobbering drunk. In front of us, from the shadow of the room, emerged Dr. Kamer. His once white lab coat was stained crimson. His blue scrubs were smeared red and dangling from his left hand was a pair of yellow, industrial strength cleaning gloves that were caked in dried blood. He moved towards us and a ray of sunlight fell across his face. The look in his dark blue eyes was one of satisfaction; of great pleasure in what he had accomplished.
When he reached us, he didn’t say a word to me. He dropped the gloves from his hand and began to pat Rebecca on the cheek. “Rebecca. Rebecca darling, time to get up. Your adulterous days are over my love.”
She rolled her head and moaned, trying to wake up. Dr. Kamer patted her a few more times, and her head swiveled.
“Rebecca honey…wake…UP!” A load pop rang out as Dr. Kramer slapped the shit out of her.
She awoke from her daze, trying to focus. Dr. Kramer held her cheeks in his hands and looked her in the eyes. When consciousness dawned, she realized it was James’ eyes she was looking in and not mind.
She shrieked.
Dr. Kamer shook her head and laughed. “That’s right, cry it up bitch. But it’s only downhill from here.” He let go of her head and submerged into the shadows.
I heard a flicking sound and then the spotlights above beamed over us.
Rebecca turned and looked at me. “Thom?” She was confused. Then she noticed our shoulders. Whatever fairy-tale or dreamland she thought she was in evaporated. The cold, harsh reality of our circumstances slapped her in the face like Dr. Kamer’s hand. She screamed again. “Ohmygodohmygod Thom my arm where is my fucking arm!”
I stared back at her, tears in my eyes and voice shaking. “I don’t know baby. But do me a favor. Keep your eyes up. Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t fucking look down.”
She started to convulse with grief. The sobs leaving her mouth made a chopping sound. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No!” She shrieked again. “James, you bastard what did you do…what…did…you do?” Rebecca opened her eyes and put them back on me. “Thom, I have to look. Please.”
I shook my head. “No, no, no, no, please don’t, please don’t Rebecca.”
“Thom I have to…I have to!” She was teetering on the edge of hysteria.
I kept pleading with her but she didn’t listen.
When she saw her hips, she made the plunge. She tried to slide her right arm out of the chain and threw her body forward. Currents of pain dug deep into our shoulders and hip. I winced, and she cried out.
“Ouch sonofabitch, don’t do that Rebecca.”
“He’s right.” Dr. Kamer was walking towards us again, holding a metal folding chair. He opened it and sat down about three feet from us. “The metal rod connecting your shoulders and hips might slip loose, then you’ll be in a world of hurt.”
Hearing his voice caused Rebecca to snap out of her mania. We both gawked at him, fear hugging our souls.
“You a religious man, Thom?”
Still breathing heavy, I shook my head.
“No? Well, Rebecca and I are. Bet you didn’t know that did you?”
I shook my head again.
“You see Thom, I’d expect a heathen like you to do what you did, but Rebecca, she knows better.” He looked up at her and she cried harder. He continued. “Even though you’re not a religious man Thom, I bet you are familiar with the Ten Commandments huh?”
I nodded, tears forming again in the corner of my eyes.
“You know what the seventh one is?”
I didn’t know, but I figured it out. “Do not…don’t commit adultery.”
Dr. Kamer tilted his head and nodded. “Good. Good, Thom. You know, Jesus said what God has joined together, let no man separate.” He stood up from the chair and started to pace. “You know why adultery is such an egregious sin? No, I’m sure you don’t, so I’ll tell you. It is the ultimate violation of trust and loyalty. The ultimate betrayal. You see, the husband and wife, when they are joined, are said to be one flesh. Adultery rips the two apart, because the adulterer leaves their spouse and becomes one with someone else. The adulterer has defiled themselves and become unclean.” He stopped and stood in front of Rebecca.
“Honey, tell me if this sounds familiar. ‘And behold, the woman meets him, dressed as a prostitute, wily of heart.’ You recognized it yet?”
Rebecca kept crying.
“Let me skip ahead a little. ‘She seizes him and kisses him, and with a bold face she says to him, I had to offer sacrifices, and today I have paid my vows; so now I come to meet you, and to seek you eagerly, and I have found you.’ No? Still don’t? Oh, let me get to my favorite part. ‘Come, let us take our fill of love till morning; let us delight ourselves with love. For my husband is not home; he has gone on a long journey.’ That’s Proverbs 7 my love, and you are that woman.”
Dr. Kramer was now standing to my left. He whispered in my ear. “It is time for the two of you to pay for your sins. We are going to play a little game called Pin the Piece on the Adulterer. I’m going to cut off each part of your bodies that lead to the adultery and nail them to my wall.”
I watched as Dr. Kamer disappeared into the shadows.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Original and beautifully well done!
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FREAKY!
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HOUSE CALL
BY THOMAS R CLARK
“Some things you never forget,” NYPD Sergeant Brad Deegan said to his junior partner, Scott Tierney. “Like I remember nickel wing night.” The duo of policemen walked through the New York Subway together on patrol. Deegan’s partner stopped walking and tipped his hat back on his head.
“Nickel wing night? How fucking old are you?” A genuine look of surprise decorated officer Tierney’s face.
“No bullshit. My Mom and Dad would get wings all the time. We lived next door to this bar called the Track Kitchen. Thursday night was Nickel Wing night.”
“So yer telling me, your family ate chicken wings every Thursday for dinner.”
“Pretty much the case, at least for as long as we lived next to the joint.”
“So you were what? One, two years old?”
“No. I was a bit older. Like three or four years old.”
“How the fuck do you remember back that fucking far, Sarge?”
“I don’t know. Just some things you always remember, never forget.”
“Maybe that’s why yer such a hard ass, you remember your potty training.”
“Very funny, boy.” Deegan slapped his subordinate on the back.
“I’ve got your boy right here, old man,” the junior officer quipped back.
“Speaking of which, did that cream help with the rash?”
“Hey, fuck you, you little shi -” Deegan was about to swat Tierney’s hat off his head when he stopped in mid-jest. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell what? You drop a bomb?”
“No, no. Seriously, do you smell that? Like rotting meat?”
“No, man, all I smell is junkie sweat, oil and piss.” The rookie shrugged his shoulders. Deegan knew something was off. He was walking all over the platform, looking over the edge. Tierney stood and watched his senior partner on his quest to find something rancid. The sergeant pulled out his long, baton-like flashlight. It came to brilliant life, illuminating the darkness below.
“How about you help me find the dead body over here. Some junkie probably hit the third rail. Be careful, the body’s got to be in pieces.” Deegan stared at Tierney, making eye contact to show he was fucking around. Well?”
“Don’t get your balls in a bunch, there, Sarge,” Tierney said as he joined his superior at the edge. The stench hit him like a truck. “Holy fuck. That’s awful.”
“As I said, some things you never forget, and a ripe old dead body on the tracks, it leaves behind a memorable odor.”
“Memorable is a word for it. Shit. Un-fucking-forgettable is more like it. Did you see anything down there?” Tierney watched the Sergeant shake his head in response. “Then where is it.”
“I think it’s right here. Look.” Deegan flashed his light down into a storm trap next to the train rails. Tierney looked over his partner’s shoulder. Inside the recess, a dim light flickered from an open door. White tiles lined the walls of a long corridor, leading underneath the platform they stood on. The stink was ripe and rose from the opening.
“Holy shit. What is this? A service tunnel?”
“I think so. I’m going in.” Deegan hopped down into the recess. His eyes watered from the stench. He pulled a napkin out of his pocket and covered his mouth with it. The makeshift filter failed miserably. Tierney joined him and the duo walked down the hall. It ended at a set of closed, wooden, double doors. Both officers pulled personal sidearms out from their respective holsters. Deegan looked to Tierney and nodded. The junior officer was waiting for a signal from his superior and didn’t waste any time kicking the doors open.
Behind the doors was a makeshift surgery center. Filthy, with blood streaks on the floors and walls, this wasn’t a place you went to for repairs. No, this was a place you went to for death. A desiccated body laid on a gurney on the far side of the room, next to it stood a tall man in surgical scrubs, an elasticized face mask covered his mouth and nose. He held a person’s face in his hands, inspecting it. There was no skull underneath the skin. Deegan assumed the culprit holding the skin mask in his hands was the same person to flay it from the victim’s person. The doctor…
‘If you’d call him anything right now it would be doctor, right?’ Deegan thought to himself.
…The doctor set the gruesome trophy on the remains next to him.
“I’m afraid you can’t be here, gentlemen. Carry on, toodles.” He waved his hands at the officers, shooing them off as if they were flies.
“Stay where you are, don’t move.” Deegan pointed his pistol at the blood-covered surgeon. The doctor ignored them both.
“You can’t be here, in this place. There are rules. And you are breaking them. So, please. Be on your way gentlemen, otherwise, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you.”
“Well, buddy, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you if you don’t get on your knees right fucking now and put your hands behind your back,” Deegan commanded. The man didn’t flinch. “Do it, now, motherfucker.” Brad aimed for the doctor’s left leg, a wounding shot. He prayed he wouldn’t need to take it. If the doctor failed to comply…
“As you wish, gentlemen. God bless your damned souls.” He dropped to his knees and placed his hands in behind his back.
“Souls? The fuck you talking about, souls?” Deegan said as he cuffed the man, “Praying, though I understand. I pray you have the right to remain silent, any other fucking words you spit out of your pie hole can and will be used against you in a court of fucking law. You sick fuck.” Deegan said. He saw Tierney’s face was one of white, frozen terror. Deegan turned his in time to see the ribs of the victim on the gurney folding back into place. The skinless torso bubbled, as flesh dripped and mutated. Two skeletal arms raised up, bits of sinew hanging from the bones, and grasped the flayed mask. The skull rose up, and the hands pulled the mask down over it.
“Some things you never forget,” It spoke, sounding like a young Deegan.
“What in the fuck?” Deegan said. He watched as the corpse continued to shift and morph, healing and regenerating, the flesh folding over itself as it created new muscles, sinew, skin, and hair. “Scott, are you seeing this, Scott?” Deegan turned his head. His young partner was shifting, vibrating in place.
“Sarge, I don’t feel so…” And he disappeared.
“Tierney! Oh my fucking God, no, what in the hell is going on here?”
“Nothing you can understand, Sarge,” Scott answered him.
“Who, what?” Brad couldn’t believe his ears. He just watched his partner shimmer away. The only other person in the room who could possibly speak was kneeling before him. Brad looked down at the doctor and ripped the surgical mask off.
The doctor’s face was Scott Deegan’s.
‘What’s going on here?’ Brad’s mind wasn’t able to process any of this madness.
“Speaking of chicken wings, did I ever tell you about my aunt who would join us on nickel wing night? She was a crazy old broad with no teeth who ate her wings with a knife and fork.” Brad heard his voice coming from the amorphous corpse. He saw his face on the skin mask adorning the skull. He watched as his arms shimmered and faded, as his perception shifted from one body, into another.
“Shall we start again?” Scott asked Brad.
Might as well, they’ll be back soon.” Brad replied and sat back on the gurney. The doors to the surgical chamber swung shut of their own volition.
Scott pulled the surgical mask back up over his face and produced a scalpel from within a pocket on his scrubs…
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Very cool!
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