Page 4 of The Flesh Remembers
Marian lingered a moment longer, her breath warm against Eleanor’s cheek. “If you ever feel unsure, I can guide you through it,” she murmured, her voice trembling with an emotion Eleanor couldn’t quite name. Her fingers brushed down Eleanor’s arm, lingering just long enough to leave her skin tingling.
The door creaked open, and Frye’s imposing presence filled the room, his sharp gaze locking onto Eleanor. “Learning quick, are you, Doctor?” he murmured, his voice laced with challenge.
Eleanor straightened, her steady tone cutting through the tension: “I am. And I’m ready to do what’s necessary.”
Frye stepped closer, the oppressive heat of the room amplifying his intensity. “Are you?” he demanded. “Let’s see if you have what it takes.”
Excerpt from the Diary of Dr. Eleanor Ashcroft
I hesitate even to write it down. Reanimation. Resurrection. Triumph over death. They say it can be done. They say they can bring James back.
I want to believe in it. I am forcing myself to try and believe in it, for James. I keep saying it over and over in my head like a mantra. I do this for him. But yet, even as I write it just now, part of me wonders if I am being selfish. Is it just for myself that I seek their assistance?
This place is so strange, almost as if it were separate from the rest of London, which I know is just on the other side of these doors. But there is something dark here, something that feels…off, out of sync.
I don’t know what I mean. I think I am overly tired. I will rest for a bit before returning to the lab and facing the anticipation again.
The Beating of a Heart
Within the hour, the chamber was alive with anticipation. The Array glowed brighter, its hum vibrating through Eleanor’s body like a lover’s caress. She stood beside the dais, her heart pounding as Fairfax explained the final preparations. “You will see,” he said, his voice low and intimate, “how raw emotion can transform science into something transcendent.”
Her eyes met his, the weight of his words pressing against her chest. She nodded, her breath shallow. “I’m ready to try.”
Fairfax gestured toward the dais. “Then step forward,” he said. “Let us begin.”
The room fell silent as Eleanor approached, the leather straps and gleaming metal cuffs calling to her. She placed herhands on the edge of the dais, her body trembling as she prepared to surrender everything she had, her grief, her desire, her very essence to the pursuit of the impossible.
As she leaned into the room's energy, every nerve in her body screamed in shock, the pulsating hum of the apparatus mirroring the beat of her heart. She closed her eyes, ready to give herself entirely to whatever this forbidden science demanded. The air thickened, charged with unspoken promise, as the lines between desire, grief, and science blurred into an intoxicating haze.
Fairfax, with an almost manic look of excitement in his eyes, removed a small tray from a cabinet next to the machine. The tray was covered with a cloth, so its contents were not visible. Eleanor swallowed hard as she watched him lay the tray on the pedestal.
“What is it?” Eleanor asked, her eyes widening at the suspicious dark stains that covered the cloth. Whatever was beneath the fabric appeared to have bled at one time.
“This is a simple trial to show you how the process will work. Of course, the process won’t be complete as the emotional component won’t be included, but we can produce a similar effect on a much smaller scale.” Fairfax gestured for Eleanor to stand beside him as he worked so she would have the best vantage.
“Marian, please ready the rods and prep the specimen.”
Nurse Marian Collins busied herself with the tasks assigned to her, bringing the galvanized rods and electrodes to the platform and laying them gently next to the tray. “Everything is ready, Ambrose-er…Dr. Fairfax.” Marian’s cheeks turned scarlet when she noticed her verbal slip, but she did not make eye contact with Eleanor.
The cloth was removed from the tray, and Eleanor stared down at a human heart, still glistening as if it had been freshly ripped from the chest. Fairfax and Marian began attaching the electrodes and rods to the piece of flesh with extreme care and delicacy.
“All right now, we’re ready to begin,” Fairfax said. The apparatus and its sounds began softly, but soon, the soft whirring became a louder whine and then a hissing and buzzing as the machine reached maximum capacity.
Eleanor watched the heart intently, seeing little blue sparks flicker along the edges of the muscle. The tiny flicker of electricity was the only thing happening to it. After two full minutes of staring at the heart, almost willing something to happen, Eleanor looked over at Fairfax to gauge his reaction. He appeared as focused as ever, however.
And then, just as Eleanor was about to voice her concern, she thought she saw something. A faint, almost imperceptible moment.
“Did it…?” Eleanor asked, her voice trailing off as she moved in closer.
“It did, indeed, Dr. Ashcroft. You are witnessing a miracle of science right before your eyes!”
Eleanor let out a shuddering breath as she watched in amazement as the heart, devoid of any human body to pump blood through it, began slowly contracting. One pump, two, then three. By all accounts, this disembodied human heart was beating on its own. Eleanor could not resist reaching out her hand and touching the thick, muscled organ as if to confirm for herself that it was all really happening.
Her fingers pressed into the trembling heart, the muscle slick and pulsating beneath her touch. The warmth was overwhelming, the wetness clinging to her skin as bloodoozed sluggishly from its chambers, streaking crimson against her fingertips. A faint, metallic tang rose from the fresh spill, sharp, raw, unmistakably alive. She felt it quicken, the rhythm shifting beneath her palms, its flesh quivering in response to her presence. It was real, unquestionably, terrifyingly real.
Eleanor stood at the corridor’s threshold, her pulse thudding a heady staccato. Hours had slipped by since the demonstration at dusk, a macabre spectacle of galvanic currents jolting lifeless muscle to twitching existence.
She’d borne witness in silence, torn between horror and a perverse fascination. In the wake of that display, Dr. Fairfax and Nurse Collins had quietly ushered her to a private salon within the clinic’s numerous halls. They had offered her a seat in a small antechamber, then vanished without explanation.
