The Grave Digger

by Rebecca Bischoff

  He screamed as he was pulled roughly into the room, landing on the floor in a heap.

  “I’ll fix your flint, you guttersnipe!” a man bellowed. “Thought you’d spy on us, didn’t you? Want to see the blood, eh, boy?”

  “No,” Cap gasped and scrambled away.

  The man who’d seized Cap held a lantern high as he studied the boy with narrowed eyes. He was thin and bent and his pallid face was rough as leather.

  “Well, we just might find a use for you,” he said. The skin of his face crinkled as his thin lips cracked into a wide smile. “We could use a boy around here to pick up the spare arms and legs. What do you say to that?”

  “Leave him be, Parsons,” another man said from the doorway. The speaker, a pudgy man with sparse blond hair, hurried inside. “I wager he’ll not be the last lad to steal into the dissection room looking for a thrill.”

  Dissection room? Cap gulped and looked about him. The wedge-shaped room was cold and damp, with stone walls and floor. In the center stood a long table with a bucket beneath it. A smaller table stood against the wall, with a cluttered assortment of metal tools. One was a large saw with glinting, jagged teeth. He swallowed again.

  “And, now, young man, you will leave through the front door like a gentleman,” the stout man said. He didn’t wait for an answer. He simply took Cap’s arm with a firm grip and led him from the room.

  Without a word, Cap allowed himself to be shown outside. The moment the door closed in his face, he grinned and walked down the steps. Then, he sprinted back around the building to the tiny window and peeked inside. A lantern glowed from the small table, but Parsons was nowhere in sight.

  Before he could change his mind or lose his nerve, Cap drove his legs through the open window and dropped to the cold stone floor. He yelped when he realized he wasn’t alone. A figure now lay on the long table, covered with a smudged white sheet.

  Footsteps and voices sounded from above and moving closer. Cap sped back to the window, but it was high enough that he could not easily climb back outside. He looked about frantically. What could he do? They were almost at the door!

  Not one of the medical students noticed that the sheet covering the corpse fluttered a bit, almost as if something had disturbed it. They crowded into the room, talking, laughing, and smoking the same foul tobacco Father often enjoyed.

  Cap crouched beneath the table, surrounded by feet on all sides, hugging his knees to his chest. There was no escape.

  Now, why did I have to do such a blamed fool thing? he asked himself.

  Voices in the room grew silent as one man spoke. There was no mistaking the reedy voice of Dr. Rusch.

  “Gentleman, shall we proceed?” Dr. Rusch asked. “Reeves, Carter, you shall assist.” Feet shuffled and changed places. Several of the students gasped as part of the sheet was pulled down.

  “You see the red tissue here that protrudes from between the eyelids? This is a ‘conjunctival tumor.’ Carter? My pointer, please. Reeves, shift him over a bit so your fellow students can see better.”

  As Dr. Rusch lectured, a student shoved the body to the side of the table. The corpse’s arm slid off the edge and swung gently for a moment, inches from Cap’s nose. Without thinking, Cap reached out to swat the cold, dark-skinned limb away from his face.

  “Aaaaugh!” a voice bellowed above Cap’s head. The room exploded into chaos, and feet scrambled away from the table. Tripping over one another, several students fled the room, shouting and swearing.

  “My eye! My eye!” the voice cried. “It hurts! What are you doing to me, doctor?”

  Holding his breath, the boy watched as the formerly lifeless arm moved in front of his nose. Fingers flexed, a fist clenched, and the arm rose out of sight.

  “Here, now, Mr., uh…” Dr. Rusch spluttered.

  “Johnson,” the man said. “Where am I?”

  “Here, sir, let us help you down,” the doctor said. “We were treating your eye in our, eh, operating room. We meant to remove the tumor, but must not have given you enough ether to keep you asleep. Come, sir, we’ll help you to your room.”

  “This ain’t the hospital,” Mr. Johnson said. “Where am I?”

  The man’s bare feet reached the floor, and someone pulled the sheet from the table and wrapped it about the reanimated corpse. Cap inched backward, away from the retreating feet of Dr. Rusch, who helped the man from the room.

  Sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, he ran a hand through his tangled hair and tried to breathe.

  “Sakes alive,” Cap whispered. “It’s real. That power, it’s real!”

  He sat in the cold, silent room for a while, hugging his knees and grinning to himself. If he could help Mamma and her new baby, well, that made joining Lum’s business worth its while, by golly.

  Quickly sobering, Cap got to his feet. It may have been worth working with Lum just to have the chance to revive Jessamyn and those other folks, but that didn’t mean Cap had to stay in the business. That was for sure.

  As he carefully climbed the stairs, wary of the noise coming from other places in the building, Cap remembered Dr. Ivins’s words. “There are different methods for obtaining” subjects for dissection, he’d said. “Methods that are less distasteful.” What did he mean by that? Could there be a way to provide bodies for medical schools that didn’t involve secretly digging up one’s friends in the dark of night?

  With a jolt, Cap stopped short. The arrangement! The sexton had mentioned it, outside the grand yellow house. If there was some kind of arrangement, why didn’t the doctors use that method, instead of buying bodies dug up in secret?

  I’ll ask Dr. Ivins, Cap promised himself. He’ll know. The thought alone sent a rush of energy and a lightened sense of hope all through his body.

  Perhaps Father and I can finally leave this devilish business. It’s getting too risky anyway—with a medical college right in our town, that’s the first place people will look for the bodies.

  EIGHTEEN

  WHEN HE REACHED the top of the stairs, rapid footsteps and the swish of skirts headed in his direction. Cap spied a narrow door and darted inside a broom cupboard that smelled of mice. He pulled the door closed and held his breath. The footsteps approached, the knob rattled, and the door swung open.

  “Cap Cooper? What on earth are you doing here?” Jardine asked him, holding a candle high as she studied his face.

  “I, uh,” the boy said, blinking and squinting at the light. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

  “You don’t know?” the woman said, staring down at Cap with a furrowed brow. She placed her hands on her hips.

  “I was passing by, is all,” Cap said, “and I thought I’d take a look inside. A medical college. Golly.” Even Cap knew how silly his flimsy excuse sounded.

  Jardine surprised him by laughing out loud. “And you thought you’d explore the college’s fine broom cupboard,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  “I heard someone coming and didn’t want to get caught,” Cap said, truthfully enough.

  Jardine shook her head at him, but she was smiling. “You shouldn’t be here. I’ll see you out, but first I need to pick up some books for my daughter. Come along.”

  Biting his lip, Cap followed her to a wide spiral staircase. No one else seemed to be around the place, thankfully. They climbed in silence to a narrow landing, then climbed another set of steps to the third floor. Jardine fished a key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and led the boy inside.

  He gasped at the sight that met him. Shelves climbed to the ceiling, holding dozens of thick books. A massive desk stood in one corner.

  “It sure took us a long while to move all this into the doctor’s new office,” Jardine said. “But he’s right pleased with it.”

  A portrait of Dr. Ivins hung above a small fireplace. In the painting, the doctor’s arm was around a raven-haired woman. A young girl with a long, black braid over her shoulder sat in front of the couple. S
he smiled down at a brindled cat in her arms.

  “I didn’t know Dr. Ivins had a family,” Cap said.

  Jardine moved to stand beside him. “His wife and daughter died many years ago. It like to tore the man up inside. That’s why he works so much. He wants to save folks so their families don’t have to grieve the way he does.”

  “Oh,” Cap said. His mind immediately flew to the new illness Dr. Ivins had warned him of. “He told me of the strange fever that’s going around. Is that how they died?”

  Jardine crossed her arms as she studied the portrait. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “All I know is Dr. Ivins came here to get a fresh start.” She smiled at Cap. “And I’m so glad he did. He gave me a job when others closed the door in my face, and he treats anyone who comes to him. Besides, he’s the best doctor around. Everybody says so.”

  “Well, will Dr. Ivins be by, soon?” Cap asked, itching to talk to the man.

  Shaking her head, Jardine took two books from the doctor’s desk and shooed Cap toward the door. “No. He’s off caring for another poor soul who took sick. Well, let’s go,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cap said, as the woman locked the door behind them. They quickly descended the stairs and headed outside.

  The sky was clouding over and the streetlamps were already on when they reached the street outside. Just then a group of workmen came from around the side of the house, carrying tools and boards. With them was Lum, who bellowed out a loud laugh. His mirth died away at the sight of Cap and the woman. With a scowl and a muttered oath, he turned on his heel and marched off in the opposite direction.

  “Come, I’ll walk you home,” Jardine said to Cap, as she watched the man leave.

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” Cap said. “I’m going to see a friend. I can get home by myself.”

  “You sure?” Jardine asked, still watching Lum as he swiveled around a corner and out of sight.

  “Yes,” Cap said. Jardine’s strange reaction at hearing Lum’s name the other night came to mind. Clearing his throat, Cap asked: “Do you know who that fellow was?”

  Jardine turned sharply to look Cap in the eye. “I believe that’s Columbus Jones, who works with your father.”

  Nodding, Cap remained silent.

  With a sigh, Jardine regarded Cap for a moment in silence. Finally, she spoke.

  “I don’t mean to talk disrespectfully of anyone, but I believe you should steer clear of that man. I have it on good faith that he might be tied up in the grave robbing. We don’t know for certain, but my husband is mighty suspicious, and so am I.”

  Cap nodded, unable to speak. Jardine smiled at him.

  “I didn’t say this to scare you none, child. I only want you to be careful around that old Mr. Jones. Maybe you could let your father know.”

  Nodding again, Cap turned to go, waving goodbye to the woman. She smiled at him, and he did his best to smile back.

  What would she say if she knew Father and I have been working for Lum? he thought.

  NINETEEN

  TURNING HIS STEPS to St. Joseph’s, Cap hurried along, hoping Jessamyn would talk to him. He couldn’t understand what had made her change her plans and head home without a word. He fingered the crumpled note inside his pocket and frowned. Surely, it was some kind of misunderstanding.

  He hurried past the line of oak trees that stood like a row of old, bowed soldiers outside the orphanage, approached the door and knocked. The Sister who answered squinted at him from behind wire-rimmed glasses.

  “I came to see Jessamyn,” he said.

  The woman stared at him for a moment. “Wait here,” she said.

  Stomping his feet and trying to keep warm, Cap waited several slow minutes until the door finally opened again.

  “She’s not here,” the woman told him shortly, before shutting the door in his face.

  Cap shoved his hands into his pockets and glowered. Where else would the girl be? He didn’t believe that old lady at all.

  I’m not leaving without talking to her, he vowed to himself. No, sir! And after only a few minutes, he had what he needed and headed to the back door of the orphanage.

  “Coal for the kitchen,” he told the elderly Sister who answered his knock. He carried a rusted bucket filled with coal scavenged from the ground nearby.

  “This way,” the woman muttered. If she was surprised that someone was delivering coal this time of the evening, she didn’t show it. Cap followed her to the kitchen and placed the bucket near the box by the massive black stove.

  “I’ll unload this and let myself out, ma’am,” he said.

  The Sister shrugged and limped away. “Thank you, child.”

  Left alone, Cap dumped the coal and crept toward the hall that led upstairs. Hardly breathing, he tiptoed up the staircase. He clung to the shadows of the dimly lit hallway, relieved to find that Jessamyn’s door was open, and then startled at the voices coming from inside.

  “It is a miracle, indeed,” Dr. Rusch was saying. “I saw you pass from this world, child. We all grieved so at the loss.”

  So, she is here, Cap thought. His insides smarted. Why didn’t she want to see him? And why was that old Dr. Rusch here, again, when nobody liked him?

  “But how did she get out of that coffin? The sexton vowed that he buried her.” Sister Mariah’s throaty voice was unmistakable.

  Fighting the urge to flee, Cap stood his ground, heart in his throat.

  “I believe we’ll have answers in time,” Dr. Rusch said in a rapid voice, “but let’s not speak of this, now. My concern is for the dear girl, who so recently—”

  “Where is Dr. Ivins?” Sister Mariah cut in. “I was told he would be here.”

  “He’s busy,” Dr. Rusch snapped.

  “I see,” Sister Mariah said after a moment.

  Cap listened as the doctor asked about a hundred questions. He pressed Jessamyn to try to remember her illness, and what had happened when she was found and brought back home.

  The man had to be Lum’s contact. Cap was certain of it. He swallowed as fear coated his insides with a winter chill. Dr. Rusch had paid Lum for an undelivered body, but why? To cover his own tracks?

  Mouth dry, the boy began to edge away. This wasn’t going as planned, and he did not fancy being so close to Dr. Rusch. He’d try to talk to Jessamyn another time.

  As Cap turned, his foot kicked the dustpan that someone had left near the top of the stairs. It clattered and clanged all the way to the floor below until it finally came to a rest, spinning on the cracked tiles like a child’s toy top.

  He bolted away from the stairs and the commotion of voices in Jessamyn’s room, through the long shadows of the corridor. As he passed a window, weak moonlight showed him the outline of a door opposite the glass. He turned mid-stride and seized the handle. Mercifully, it was unlocked. He wrenched the door open, hurtled inside, and turned to close the door as quietly as possible.

  “Who is it?” a woman asked.

  Yelping, Cap turned as someone lit a candle. He was in a bedroom, spare and small as Jessamyn’s, with only a bed, a table, and a wooden chair. A woman sat up in the bed, staring at Cap. Tawny hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose curls, and there was something familiar about her face.

  “I, uh, I’m sorry, ma’am,” Cap said, gasping the words out. “I didn’t know this was your room.”

  “That’s all right, young man, but you look as if you’re being chased by the devil himself,” the woman said with a small grin.

  “He could be,” Cap said. He turned to open the door, but froze. Footsteps hurried up and down the hall, and voices chattered. Cap turned back and searched for a window. There wasn’t one.

  The woman placed the candle on the table. “Sit down, child, if you’re going to stay.”

  Cap’s face burned. He shouldn’t be here, alone in the bedroom of one of the Sisters, but what else could he do? He sat on the single chair in the room, struggling to breath
e. He’d wait a few minutes until the furor died down before trying to sneak out.

  “I’m sorry, Sister, I’ll leave as soon as I catch my breath,” he huffed, straining to listen to the commotion outside.

  “That’s all right, young man. I don’t often get visitors. And you don’t have to call me ‘Sister,’ I’m not one of the nuns here.” The woman smiled and Cap gaped. He knew why she looked so familiar. Though her hair was different, the curve of her cheek and the shape of her nose and lips were well known to Cap. He’d spent plenty of time at school gazing at a similar face.

  “Jessamyn!” Cap blurted before he could stop himself. “You look like Jessamyn!”

  TWENTY

  THE WOMAN LAUGHED. One of her canine teeth was missing. “I’ve never heard anyone say that before. Usually they say my daughter looks like me.”

  Cap stared in shock. Jessamyn wasn’t an orphan?

  “How do you know my daughter?” the woman asked, her pale face alight.

  “School,” Cap replied, plucking at his collar.

  “Oh, of course,” the woman said. The skin beneath the woman’s eyes was smudged purple. One eyelid was badly swollen and oozed a thick, yellow liquid. Cap winced at the sight of it.

  “I didn’t know Jessamyn had a mother,” he said.

  “Most people do not,” the woman said, looking away to a spot somewhere above Cap’s head. Her eyes were full of sadness. Cap backed up another step, while many new questions tumbled about in his head.

  Someone knocked.

  “Hide,” the woman whispered, nodding at the corner behind the door. Cap darted to the corner just in time for the wooden door to creak open and conceal him from sight.

  Dr. Rusch swept in and deposited his bag on the table. Cap listened with a hand clapped over his mouth.

  “And how are you, today, Tillie?” Dr. Rusch said. Bottles clinked as the man rummaged about in his bag.