by KJ Kalis
18
It had been a long day for Joseph, longer than he would have liked. He let his two subjects rest in the shop for a few hours, going back and forth, making sure they were still alive and checking their vital signs.
Around lunchtime, he walked the trail back down to the shop again, getting ready for the second phase. He switched their blood again, wanting to see if the infusion he gave them from his own body plus the cocktail of supportive blood pressure medications would keep them alive.
Joseph set a timer for twenty minutes, settling into his chair at the foot of each of their beds. He opened his notebook and glanced up at each of them. Ben had started to sweat, beads of perspiration forming on his brow, his color pale. Rebecca was wild-eyed, pulling against her restraints, crying uncontrollably. Joseph tilted his head to the side, making a note in his book that future subjects would be better if they weren’t part of the healthcare community. He was concerned that Rebecca’s mental state and her knowledge might impact his outcomes. He nearly scratched out the notes but decided to leave them. Precision was critical in his work. Any variable he could account for would make his medical studies that much more impressive.
“Consider choosing subjects that work in the same industry,” he scrawled into his notebook, starting a new line, the black ink flowing smoothly out of his pen. He glanced up again and saw the urine collection bag attached to Ben’s bed. Little had come out of him in the last four hours, although he had been on a constant saline drip IV. It was a sign. And not a good one. Joseph stood up, tucking the back of his shirt back into his pants, hearing his mother say to him, “Joseph, your appearance matters.” It seems that his parents' voices rattled in his head at exactly the wrong time.
He took a few steps forward to the foot of Ben’s bed, lifting the sterile sheet and blanket off his legs. Ben’s feet were swollen, twice the size they should have been. A surge of emotions ran through Joseph’s body. He felt conflicted. Knowing he had complete control of Rebecca and Ben was thrilling. Knowing his experiment was failing, again, made him furious.
Rebecca turned towards him, rolling her head on the bed, tears running down her face. “Please, just call an ambulance for us before it’s too late. You can leave. I’ll never tell anyone what happened.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I wish I could, but this is part of a medical experiment.” He put his hand on her foot, which was hot and puffy. She was in for the same death as Ben.
Rebecca turned her head away, still crying. Joseph walked over to the workbench and got two tissues, walking back and placing them in her hand. He loosened the restraint so she had just enough freedom to dab her face. “I know you think I’m a monster,” Joseph said. “But I’m not. There are so many medical mysteries that need to be solved. You and Ben are just part of that story.”
Joseph walked back over to the side of Ben’s bed, checking the lines. “I’m pretty sure he’s going into kidney failure,” Joseph muttered to himself. In his mind, he ran through the symptoms commonly seen when someone was transfused with the wrong blood type. Blood clotting, low blood pressure, delirium, reduced urine output… Ben had all the signs. Joseph knew there would be no coming back from where he was. His feet and legs were swollen to roughly twice the size they should be, his body holding fluids. Shortly, there’d be so much fluid in his body he would not be able to breathe and his heart would stop. Joseph tilted his head and rubbed his chin, considering the next move. Did he have enough data to proceed?
The wave of emotion he experienced evaporated into a new level of focus. He sat back down in his chair and thumbed through the pages in his notebook. Had he followed all of the steps he had designed for the experiment? He ran his finger down the cream-colored page where the outline was and noted that he had completed each step as it had been designed. A warm sense of satisfaction washed over him. He looked up at Ben again, who was mumbling. Delirium had set in. It was only a question of time before Ben was no longer. Joseph stood up, setting his notebook back where it belonged. He walked over to his workshop table. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. Out of the refrigerator, he pulled a small vial and found a syringe with a needle already attached. He inserted the needle into the vial of clear liquid, drawing ten cc’s out. Five for Ben and five for Rebecca. He paused for a moment, the syringe in his hand. He didn’t want to rush the ending, but it was obvious that this experiment had drawn to a close. There was no more to learn.
A surge of energy washed over him. These two subjects had served their purpose, he thought. He walked over to Ben’s bed and turned his hand over so the port of the IV was visible. He slowly pushed the liquid into Ben’s IV. Without saying anything, he did the same to Rebecca. He tossed the syringe in the trash. All the remnants of the medical experiment would be burned later. He enjoyed that part, thinking through everything that had happened to his subjects as he torched the trash from their time with him.
He sat down in his chair, his notebook flipped upside down on his leg. It was time to watch. Within a minute, Ben and Rebecca started to pant, experiencing shortness of breath. He knew he should be taking notes, but he just couldn’t. He wanted to watch. Both of their mouths were wide, trying to suck in as much air as they possibly could. The drug he had given them would cause them to suffocate as it destroyed their lungs. Rebecca’s face turned blue first, a stillness coming over her body. She sucked in one final breath and then let out a wheeze. No other breath came. Joseph stood up, still hearing Ben panting in the background as he walked over to his worktable to get his stethoscope. He put the metal on Rebecca’s chest and listened. Nothing. A small smile crept over his face. He looked up at the wall clock, a digital version with large red numbers, the same kind that was used in an emergency room or an operating room. “Time of death eighteen zero three.” He jotted the time in his notebook.
While Joseph was busy pronouncing Rebecca dead, Ben had expired, a blue tinge already covering his lips. “Well, then, it looks like you died at exactly the same time as your partner. How fitting.”
Joseph paused for a minute looking at the two still bodies in his shop. He felt warm, as though he had accomplished a great challenge. His parents would be proud, he knew that. His mind already started to turn to his next set of experiments, but he knew there was work to do. He quickly stepped between the bodies, unhooking IVs and lines. He had planned what to do with the bodies, hoping to make it easier for their families. Part of him wanted to write a letter, the way that his mother had written him letters, so they would understand what their loved one had gone through and why it was important to the future of mankind. No matter what he wrote, hee knew they wouldn’t understand. No one ever had. Not the medical schools that he wanted to go to, not the medical journals that he wanted to publish in. No one understood the depth of his work, but someday they would…
A half-hour later, Joseph had Ben’s body packed up and ready to go. It was back in the laundry cart he had used to transport him in the first place. Joseph wheeled it out to the van and secured it with bungee cords, so it wouldn’t roll and shift while he was driving.
He had something else planned for Rebecca. From the corner of the garage, he brought out a large box. It was marked “Furniture, This Side Up” on the exterior. As he slid Rebecca’s body into the box, she slid to the bottom. As much as he would have liked to offer a better presentation, he couldn’t. At least by loading her body now, it would still flex and move. Given a few hours, rigor mortis would set in, and there would be no way to get her into the box. Next to where the box had been stored, was a dolly painted in bright yellow with black wheels. He rolled it over and slid the base of it underneath the box, tilting it back up on the dolly. He used the ramp from the van to roll the dolly into the back of the bed, securing it with more bungee cords. After slamming the doors, he walked back into the garage one more time, knowing there was a great deal of cleanup to do. That could wait. From a coat rack standing in the corner near the door, Joseph pulled a maintenance jumpsuit and the baseball h
at. It was time.
The drive to Grand Ridge College didn’t take any time at all. The post work crowd that snarled traffic around the city had all gone home already. Joseph knew from the schedule of classes that the Statler building was largely unoccupied. The classes that were going on, just a few on the third floor, would be in session while he was in the building, the students captives of their professors until later in the evening. He pulled up to the back entrance of the building, humming under his breath. It was fitting that he should return Ben where he found him. He stepped inside the van, unhooked the bungee cords, and rolled the laundry cart down the ramp. He settled two towels over Ben’s body whispering, “Hold on. We’re almost done.”
To anyone else, Joseph would just look like a maintenance person taking equipment to the building. He kept his eyes down, not worried that anyone would recognize him, but not wanting to draw any extra attention either. He rounded the corner to the maintenance closet where he planned on leaving the cart with Ben’s body in it. “Hey! What you got there?”
Joseph turned slowly, to see a short, round man in front of him. He wore the same red polo shirt that Ben had on, embroidery saying that his name was Jim. “Hi,” Joseph tried to sound casual. “The maintenance manager told me to drop off this load of cleaning equipment to the maintenance closet. That okay?” Joseph’s heart skipped a beat. If the man wanted to inspect the cart, he would have to take a different path than the one he had planned on. Changes in his plans weren’t acceptable. He held his breath.
The man waved at him, “Oh, okay.” He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Do you need a signature or anything? I gotta take this call.”
Joseph shook his head no. “We’re good. I’ll have my boss send the information to your boss.”
Jim walked away. A feeling of calm settled over Joseph. He put his hand on the cold metal knob of the maintenance closet and pushed the cart inside, rotating it so that Ben would be facing the door. It took a moment for him to consider his options. He could leave Ben underneath the towels, the smell of his body attracting someone in a day or two as gases filled his corpse. Or he could adjust the body so he could be more easily found. Joseph pursed his lips together. He decided on the latter.
He put on a pair of gloves and pulled the towels away from Ben’s face. Hooking his forearms underneath Ben’s armpits, he lifted him slightly, so he was sitting more upright in the cart. Joseph bent Ben’s knees, putting his feet flat on the floor of the cart so that his body would stay upright after Joseph left. Stepping back, he decided to fold the towels and put them on the floor next to the cart. He was glad he remembered gloves. When he dropped off Daniel Atkinson’s body, he nearly forgot them and had to turn back to get them. There was no reason to leave unnecessary DNA on a body, he thought.
He stopped for a moment, considering his work and decided it was sufficient. The more time he spent adjusting his body, he knew the more chances he had of getting caught. It was time to go. He pulled the string to the single bulb light in the maintenance closet, stepped outside, and closed the door. “Goodbye, Ben,” he whispered. He walked calmly back to the van.
Joseph started the engine, putting it into reverse and pulling away from the loading dock at the back of the Statler building. With all the crime on college campuses, it always surprised Joseph that the administration hadn’t installed video cameras. Maybe they would now. Maybe that would be the lesson for them.
Joseph took a deep breath and sighed. In a way, he was sad that this experiment was over. He turned onto the freeway, heading for the spot where he could drop off Rebecca’s body. He cracked the window in the van a little, the cool night air filtering through. It would be sad to go back to the shop with no subjects in it, he thought. He enjoyed their company, even though they were generally terrified. Why he couldn’t make them understand the contribution they were making to the world, he didn’t know. That would be something to explore in his notebook.
He felt the pocket of his coveralls for Rebecca’s keys. They were there. As he got off of the freeway, he made the turn toward Rebecca’s apartment. He had been there twice before, watching her leave for work. All the information had been readily available on her Red Cross donor card or on her social media. It was amazing the information that people gave away without thinking about it.
Darkness had covered the area in a thick blanket. He pulled into the lot, sliding the van into a spot marked for deliveries only. It was a small apartment complex. Joseph didn’t know why they had a spot designated for deliveries, but he was grateful. He threw the van into park, put his keys in his pocket and opened the van doors in the back. He unhooked the bungee cords from the furniture box and rolled it out of the van, slamming the doors closed.
Using Rebecca’s keys, he opened the front door and took the elevator to the second floor. As he rolled the furniture box down the hallway, he hummed under his breath. As he got to her door, a young woman passed, a yoga mat rolled up under her arm, her face glued to her cell phone. She glanced at him. He nodded. She never said a word.
The bolt clicked as it moved away from the frame. Joseph turned the knob, pushing the door open. He rolled the box just inside the door, turned it so it said, “Furniture, This Side Up,” facing anyone who walked in the door. Joseph didn’t know when that would be, but he tried to imagine how surprised they would be when they found Rebecca. He took a quick peek inside the box, the top of Rebecca’s head lolled off to the side. When he closed it back up, he smiled as he plunged her body into the darkness.
He went back out of the building the same way he came in, the empty dolly rattling slightly as he pushed it across the lobby floor and out the door. The van’s back doors creaked as he loaded the dolly in and drove off. It was time for dinner, although it was much later than his schedule allowed. Pork and sauerkraut were on the menu tonight…
19
Jim got off the phone with Henry, the maintenance manager, just in time for his stomach to rumble. They’d had a brief discussion about floor sealer before Henry started to complain about some of Jim’s co-workers. Shaking his head, Jim went back to his office for his lunch break, even though it was almost ten o’clock at night. Eating at odd hours gave him a rotten case of heartburn, but he never knew if it was his choice of food or the time he ate. As he finished the last bite of his burger and fries, cold and soggy from sitting in the little refrigerator in the office, his mind flashed to the delivery person from a few hours before. What had he brought? He said something about cleaning supplies, which was strange. The Statler building didn’t get those deliveries. They went to the main office. He shrugged his shoulders, maybe it was delivered there by mistake.
Jim shoved his phone in his pocket, deciding to go and check. He walked down the hallway whistling. As he got to the maintenance closet, he opened the door, turning the knob, reaching around the edge to find the light switch. Then he remembered this particular closet only had a pull string for the bulb above. It was pitch black. He waved his arm in midair trying to find it, feeling the edge of the laundry cart hit his thighs. He pulled the string, light filling the small area. As he looked down, he found a face staring at him. He paused for a moment, “Oh my God!” He backpedaled and banged into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway, sliding to the floor.
The sight of the dead body, the face gray from lack of blood flow, was too much for him. Jim turned his head and retched, the remnants of his undigested fast food splashing all over the floor, the moulding, and the wall. He scrambled to his feet, taking two steps forward, not sure whether he should look at the body, clean up the vomit or call the police first. He peered over the edge of the cart, staying in the hallway. It was definitely a body. He had the same red shirt on that Jim did, the name Ben embroidered on the left chest.
His hands were shaking, but he managed to pull his phone out of his pocket, quickly dialing 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“This is Jim over at Grand Ridge College
. I just found a body.”
20
It had been a long day. Kat felt it in every inch of her body. Jack had gone to bed early after spending a couple of hours studying for his math test. Kat and Van were curled up on the couch together, watching television. She usually went to bed right after the eleven o’clock news ended. Van stayed up much later, knowing he didn’t have to get into the office until at least ten o’clock in the morning. Everyone who knew him knew he wasn’t a morning person.
There were a pair of newscasters on, trading stories back-and-forth. The young woman, her long brunette hair curled into gentle waves around her face, had just gotten done talking about snarls in the traffic when she pitched to her co-anchor. “Thanks, Jen,” the man said, straightening in his chair. “And now, we want to update you on the latest in the very sad story of the two teenagers murdered earlier this week.”
Kat leaned forward, wanting to hear what they had to say. She hoped there was factual reporting on Chelsea and Daniel. Too many supposed journalists had become more interested in offering their own opinions rather than the facts. She chewed her lip, listening.
“If you’ve been with us recently, then you know we’ve been following the story of Chelsea Atkinson and Daniel Arthur, who were brutally murdered early this week. These two Sauk Valley seniors were found separately, though the police believe they were murdered by the same person.” The anchor tilted his head to the side, stopping mid-sentence, putting his finger up to his ear. Kat realized he was listening to his production team.
Something serious had happened. Across the screen flashed a “Breaking News” intro. During her college years, Kat had worked at a television station. She knew that behind the scenes, they were scrambling to get the information ready to put out to the public. The ten-second break gave the production team a chance to talk to the anchor.
