by K. M. Ashman
‘This is preposterous,’ said Samari, standing up, ‘I don’t know why you brought me here Leatherman, but whatever pathetic reason you have, I will not stay here and be made a fool of.’
‘Sit down, Doctor,’ said Leatherman, ‘I know it is hard to take in, but you will see the evidence soon enough.’
Samari paused before taking his seat once more.
‘Like I was saying,’ continued Leatherman, ‘the body was regenerating before our very eyes. The flesh filled out, the dead skin fell away and the hair grew. You can imagine how we felt, the dormant cells that we had been chasing were obviously doing their job and we knew that at last, the prize was within our grasp. All we had to do was identify and segregate the cells, harvest them and we would have the beginnings of a completely new science. Age control.’
‘And have you been successful?’
‘No, because something happened that was completely unexpected.’
‘What?’
‘Her heart started beating.’
----
Samari shook his head slowly from side to side.
‘No,’ he said, ‘it can’t have. That is not possible. I saw that mummy with my own eyes; it has been dead for over two thousand years. There is no way you could have resurrected her.’
‘I agree,’ said Leatherman, ‘but we did. Don’t ask me how, because at the moment we don’t have the answers. All I know is that, somehow, against all our better knowledge and understanding, just by giving this corpse several simple blood transfusions, we have managed to resurrect life.’
‘Impossible, impossible, impossible,’ repeated Samari. ‘It cannot be done, there must be some mistake.’
‘I can understand your disbelief, Doctor,’ said Leatherman, ‘and I’m not sure that I believe it myself. However, I think you have heard me talk long enough. Perhaps it is time you saw it with your own eyes. He reached out for the headgear on the table. You will need these,’ he said, ‘There’s a switch on the battery pack at the back. Flick it up and pull down the visor.’
‘What are they for?’ asked Samari, examining the headgear.
‘Think of them as infrared goggles,’ said Leatherman, ‘Best we could do in these circumstances. We intend to build filters into the glass as soon as we can, but these will have to do for now. The room containing the subject is only lit by infrared light and the only way we will be able to see her, is through these.’
‘Why infrared?’ asked Samari, pulling down the visor. ‘Does the light destroy the cells?’
‘Oh no,’ said Leatherman, ‘nothing like that. It hurts her eyes.’
Samari’s head spun to one side and stared at Leatherman in astonishment.
‘What?’ he gasped. ‘You mean, she is conscious?’
‘Don’t believe me, Doctor,’ said Leatherman. ‘See for yourself.’
Dr Samari turned back to see the two curtains sliding away from the wall to his front and immediately another room sprang into view behind a glass screen. The inner room was filled with a red glow and though it took him a few seconds to adjust, Samari could make out a single hospital bed in the centre. On a table to one side, stood a clear jug of water and a tray with various items of food, while toward the rear of the room, stood a freestanding screen.
‘Doctor,’ said Leatherman, ‘what you see before you is an examination chamber. Without the equipment you now wear, it would appear completely dark. The water and food on the side tables are replaced daily, but never consumed. The subject is conscious, mobile and sentient, however, despite our best efforts, we cannot get her to eat or drink.’
‘Then how is the body sustained?’ asked Samari.
‘At first we had to give her a transfusion every night, but that became too cumbersome. Eventually we tried pouring the blood into a jug for her to drink, and while that had some success, she deteriorated quickly, until we had to transfuse again. Finally, one of the techies suggested a solution, and whilst it sounds like something from a horror film, it turned out to be the answer we needed.’
‘What was it?’ asked Samari.
‘Watch,’ said Leatherman, and both men stared at the seemingly empty room, waiting for something to happen.
The lab technician holding a box approached the side door leading into an inner chamber He lifted a sliding hatch in the bottom of the door and tipped something inside before retreating to the back of the chairs. Samari stared, and instantly saw a typical laboratory white rat, sitting up on its haunches, its nose twitching at the smell of the food at the other side of the room. As it scurried along the bottom of the glass toward the table, another movement caught Samari’s eyes and he saw a hand appear from behind the screen. Within seconds, the rest of the body appeared and Samari’s head spun toward Leatherman in confusion.
‘Surely that’s not her?’ he said.
‘I assure you it is, Doctor.’
‘But, she’s so young!
‘I know; the transformation is astonishing.’
‘This doesn’t make sense,’ said Samari. ‘How can that cadaver now look like this?’
‘I wish I had the answers,’ said Leatherman. ‘All we know is that the cells seem to have regenerated to the state they must have been in, before the mummification process started. What you are looking at there is a walking factory of regenerative cell never seen before. To put it bluntly, Samari, she is worth billions.’
Both men turned back toward the glazed chamber as the woman walked slowly from behind the screen. She was just under six feet tall and though her hair was untidy, it was quite thick and very dark brown. Her face was young, though very pale, and a simple hospital nightdress covered her slender body. The nails on both her hands and feet were very long and quite yellow. Her gaze was focused on the rat and she walked slowly toward it, her feet seemingly gliding over the vinyl.
‘Don’t forget,’ said Leatherman, ‘it’s pitch black in there, yet it seems that she can see the rat easily.’
The girl got closer and as the rat sat up once again to sniff up at the food on the table, she leapt forward and grabbed it with both hands.
Samari was transfixed. He had hardly seen her move, yet she was now standing upright and holding the rat up in front of her, examining her prize. Holding the rat’s head in one hand and the back legs in the other, she pulled them in opposite directions to expose the chest, before opening her mouth wide and crushing the animal’s chest with her teeth. Immediately, the rat stopped struggling and she rammed the open cavity hard against her mouth to extract as much blood as possible. Some ran down onto her chest as it escaped from the sides of her mouth, but she held it there until she had extracted all the blood she could. Finally, as if to finish off the disgusting display, the girl tore apart the body and pulled out the entrails, stuffing them hungrily into her mouth. Samari stood up and walked down the few steps to the glass in order to get a closer view. Close up, he could see that despite the girl’s appearance, she was actually quite beautiful.
‘This is incredible,’ whispered Samari again. ‘Is she some sort of offshoot of our own species?’
‘So many questions, Doctor,’ said Leatherman, ‘but as yet, I have few answers.’
The girl finished her horrible meal and threw the fur and bones toward the back of the room. Slowly, she walked toward the glass and though the focus of her eyes was above Samari’s head, she lifted her hand up and placed it gently on the glass.
‘Oh, my god,’ said Samari, ‘can she see us?’
‘No, it’s a two way mirror, yet every time she is active like this, I swear she knows we are watching her.’
‘And do you always feed her like this?’
‘No, the rat is just a snack for your benefit. Her hunger is insatiable and she has dispatched many animals so. Cats, dogs, we even put a fully-grown pig in there, but she dispatched each with as much ease. It seems as long as there is a pulse, she sees it as food.’
‘And humans?’
‘We can only assume so.’
‘
So how do you get in there to undergo experiments and the like?’’
‘She is averse to light,’ said Leatherman, ‘When we need to sedate her, we armour up with protective suits and flood the chamber with light. That is why the screen is there, to give her a place to shelter, while we do what we have to do.’
‘This is amazing,’ said Samari and placed his hand on the glass, mirroring the girl’s own. Her head tilted, as if she sensed something, and she was straining to hear anything she could.
‘So, am I to assume that you want me to examine her,’ he asked softly, staring into the girls black eyes.
‘Oh no, Doctor, we have all the scientists and doctors we need. You have been invited here to carry out a role that we never expected to need in our wildest dreams.’
‘And that is?’
‘It’s very simple, Dr Samari,’ said Leatherman. ‘We need a translator.’
----
Yet again, Samari stared at Leatherman in astonishment.
‘You mean she speaks?’
‘She does,’ said Leatherman, ‘and we can’t make out a word she says. As far as we can tell, it’s Egyptian and we would love to find out what she is saying.’
‘But, why me?’ asked Samari, turning back toward the girl.
‘Well, we can’t really go to a normal translator, can we?’ said Leatherman, ‘this is still top secret, and don’t forget, we smuggled her out of the country. You already have your hands dirty in this, so we thought we would keep it in the family, so to speak.’
‘What do you want to find out?’
‘Anything and everything - who she is, where did she come from? How did she get in there? How can a diet of blood sustain her? You name it; we want to know about it. I realize it may take time, but we think that if you can win her trust, she may tell you something we can use.’
‘And how am I going to do that?’ asked Samari, fearing the answer.
‘You are going in there,’ said Leatherman.
----
Chapter Thirteen
British Antiquities Museum
John, Becky, and Amy sat around the desk, each staring at the severed finger that was now lying in a steel specimen tray. Becky donned a pair of latex gloves and using a pair of large tweezers, lifted the finger up to the light to examine it closer. The index finger was grey with age and the skin very dry. The nail was elongated and a dirty yellow. It had been severed at the third knuckle from the nail and the bone joint could still be seen amongst the dried flesh.
‘Why would he send me this?’ she asked.
‘I have no idea,’ said John.
‘Is it real?’ asked Amy
‘It’s real,’ said Becky. ‘You can see the end of the bone where it seems to have been twisted away from the knuckle.’
‘Ouch,’ said Amy. ‘That must have hurt.’
‘Not really,’ said Becky. ‘The body this came from has been dead thousands of years. It has come from a corpse or a mummy.’
John’s head shot up and stared at Becky.
‘What did you say?’ he asked.
‘This finger has come from a body that has been dead for hundreds, if not thousands, of years,’ said Becky.
‘Becky, you know what you have there,’ said John, ‘Don’t you remember, back in the tomb of Amenemhat? The body in the sarcophagus only had a thumb and three fingers on the left hand. The index finger was missing. Your father must have snapped it off when he was in there and sent it to you.’
‘Why on earth would he do that?’ asked Becky.
‘I have no idea,’ said John. ‘Can I take a look?’ He donned his own gloves, but didn’t bother with tweezers. He turned the finger repeatedly in his hands, taking particular notice of the torn end.
‘Do you have a microscope?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but it’s not very powerful,’ said Becky and went to the store cupboard to retrieve a very basic microscope.
‘Thanks,’ said John and placed the finger on the stage of the scope, arranging it so the torn end was directly beneath the objective lens. He fiddled with the adjustment knob to bring it into focus and gazed into the viewfinder for a long time.
‘That’s strange,’ he said.
‘What is?’ asked Becky.
‘Take a look at the bone edge,’ he said, ‘Tell me what you see.’
Becky stared at him before peering through the viewfinder and adjusting the focus to suit her own eyes.
‘Clean and dry joint,’ she said, ‘with filaments of what seems to be micro tendons around the edges.’
‘Exactly,’ said John, ‘micro filaments. Those filaments are tiny hair-like substances that make up a ligament called the Volar Plate. It joins each part of the finger bones together, acting as a sort of hinge.’
‘So?’
‘Becky, Volar Plates are in continuous movement and need constant regeneration. They are reliant on a regular blood supply to keep repairing the used or damaged cells. Take away the blood supply, and they quickly die off. If this corpse was as old as you reckon, then there should be no trace of any Volar Plates, even a few weeks after death.’
‘John, sorry, but I have examined enough mummies to know this finger has come from a corpse at least a thousand years old.’
‘I’m not saying you are wrong, Becky, but I am beginning to wonder if this is some sort of elaborate hoax.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You saw that Mummy back in the tomb,’ he said. ‘It certainly looked ancient, but there must have been a good reason for all those wires and tubes. It would be pointless on a cadaver, but as we saw, the body seemed to have retained a level of moisture content. I have no idea why, but I suspect someone put that body in there fairly recently to try to pull the wool over someone’s eyes.’
‘You think so?’ asked Becky.
‘It’s the only possible answer,’ said John, ‘Volar Plates do not survive after death.’
‘Well there’s one way to find out,’ said Becky.
‘And what’s that?’
‘Full cell analysis,’ said Becky. ‘Send a sample up to the lab and ask them for a full report. They can tell us an approximate death date. One way or another, we will know by tomorrow.’
‘Won’t that be placed on record,’ asked John.
‘No, leave it to me. One of the techies up there has been nagging me for a date for months. I’ll ask him for a favour.’
‘That’s very noble of you,’ laughed John. ‘To go out on a date with a geek in the name of research.’
‘Who said he was a geek?’ asked Becky. ‘All I said was he is a technician. He’s quite cute, actually.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Amy. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but could someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?’
Becky stared at Amy for a second, before turning her attention to John.
‘We should tell her,’ she said. ‘After all, without her help we wouldn’t have this.’ She nodded toward the finger. ‘And anyway,’ she said with a smile, ‘she is my assistant and I trust her one hundred percent.’
‘Okay,’ said John.
‘Sit down, Amy;’ said Becky, ‘it’s quite a long story.’
----
After Becky had finished bringing Amy up to date, there was a long silence while the girl absorbed the information.
‘Well,’ said Becky eventually, ‘do you think we are mad?’
‘No,’ said Amy, her eyes still wide with wonder, ‘I know there are things in this world that we don’t understand. Wouldn’t it be great if we were the ones to discover something?’
‘I wouldn’t get too carried away just yet,’ said John, ‘this isn’t some ‘Curse of the mummy’s tomb’ film we have here. I still think there is some sort of trickery going on and the sooner we bring it to light, the better.’
‘Right,’ said Becky,’ in that case, let’s get it up to the lab.’
‘Hang on,’ said John, ‘why can’t we just cut a bit off and send it up. They only need a tiny
piece, surely?’
‘I know,’ said Becky, ‘but all the outside has been contaminated by our DNA. They will need to cut it in half and reach the untainted cells to have an uncontaminated sample. Don’t worry, I send this sort of thing up all the time. They won’t suspect a thing.’ She picked up the finger with the tweezers and placed it in a plastic bag. ‘I’ll take this up, and you take the Ushabti back up to Montague’s office before he returns.’
Almost before she finished the sentence, all three realised the problem and looked down at the broken pieces of the false doll strewn across the floor.
‘Shit,’ said John, ‘I never thought about that.’
‘What are we going to do now?’ asked Becky.
‘I have an idea,’ said Amy. ‘Don’t we have other Ushabti down here?’
‘We do,’ said Becky. ‘There are a few of our own in aisle three.’
‘Then give me one that is similar and I can take it up to his office.’
Becky looked at John.
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘Do you think he will spot the difference?’ asked John
‘I wouldn’t think so,’ said Becky, ‘not unless he looks at it close up. He’s already done all the necessary checks back in Egypt, so he wouldn’t have paid them much attention back here. Besides, the one we took was a modern fake, at least this one will be genuine.’
‘I don’t see how we have any other alternative,’ said John.
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ asked Amy. ‘You go and pick one that fits the bill and I’ll take it up.’
A few minutes later, all three left the vaults and walked up the stairs to the upper floors. John was leaving to go back to his shop, and Amy was taking the replacement Ushabti to Montague’s office. Becky carried a plastic bag containing a three thousand year old finger to the lab.
