4.
Upminster, Essex, August 1883
Jack George had been searching for somewhere safe to hide for the night. He had ventured into a farm yard and had tried to seek sanctuary in a barn stacked with hay. He had been spotted entering the building, and had been quickly ushered out by an angry farm hand. He had been struck about the face for his trouble, and so carried on searching. He was cold, hungry and tired. At the edge of the town lay an old house. It was very large and the gardens sprawled for miles in all directions. Rose bushes and flowers grew in almost every possible space, and orchards ran in straight lines throughout the grounds. Apart from a couple of windows that glowed under gaslight, most of the property was in complete darkness. There must by a dozen or more places to hide, Jack thought to himself. Keeping a keen eye, he climbed over the main gate and cautiously walked up the driveway. As he got closer to the house, he moved around the back of some bushes, in order to stay unseen. He followed the line of bushes around the side of the house and slipped into the shadows, cast by the nearly full moon. He trod carefully along the edge of the building, keeping low of the windows, although they were all unlit. He was looking for the staircase to the cellar, or the servant’s entrance. It was usually a small set of steps that could provide him shelter from the wind, and from eyes view. Servants were often more forgiving than their masters when they found a rough looking boy like Jack crouched in the cold. He would at least feel safer. He saw a small staircase, yet a faint glow lit the edges, like a beacon in the dark. Jack edged closer and peeked over the small wall encircling it. At the side of the steps was a small window. The yellow light was coming from it. Jack leaned in closer to see who was there. As he looked in, he could see a large man, completely naked, lying on a long wooden table. He was dead. Other than the body and the table, the room was completely empty. A closed door, on the other side of the room, was its only other feature. Jack was transfixed by the body on the table. He had seen the dead before, but why was this one left on a table in this way?
Then, the door swung open and a small thin man, dressed in a green outfit with stockings, strode into the room. He carried a black cane. His hair hanged limp like a curtain around his face. He made his way to the table and leant over the corpse. With his white gloved hands, he carefully stroked the large moustache belonging to the man on the table. He peered into the eyes of the dead man for a little while before standing up straight and spinning on his heel. He went over to the wall and casually leant against it, his hands crossed behind his back.
Jack listened in carefully as the strange little man began to talk.
“Mr Lang. You have been here long enough. I believe you should be able to hear me by now. As I mentioned earlier, I have the power to leave my victim apparently dead with a single injection of my serum. You, of course, know that you are very much alive. But you do not have the power to move. You are now no longer in London, and anyone who sees you would think you deceased. I have brought you here in order to help you be part of something very special. You love to scare people and leave them terrified. It is all in the name of fun and profit, is it not? Well, I do not hold your view. I am sorry, but I misled you earlier into thinking I wanted to book séances and such. This was a little fib on my part. It was a little trap, as sadly, your greed comes before anything else. I was once a very nervous and timid young boy. An innocent young man with greatness laid before me. I know my queer oddities may seem quaint, but they have crippled my life and left me a social pariah. I became this way due to bullies like yourself. I was weak and feeble, but honest, and I did not inflict myself on anyone. But as a young boy, the other children thought that it would be very funny one night to make a spectacle of me. Please imagine if you will the fear and terror that this young Demontig felt when they locked me in a morgue for the night. No light, no escape, no room amongst the piles of dead bodies lying cold and stiff against my face, chest, arms and legs. I could not move. The stench still remains part of my nightmares. The cold, clammy touch is always on my skin. Every night since, tormented faces stare blindly at me in the dark. Can you see that little boy? Well now, he is a ruthless human being, with an equally sickening mind. It is me, Demontig.”
Demontig stopped. He paused, thoughtfully. His demeanour had become nervy. He walked over to the open door and whispered through it. A large, ogre like man came over to the doorway from outside and leant in close to Demontig. The doctor whispered directly into his ear. The ogre looked Demontig straight in the eyes and gave him a stern nod, before disappearing back into the house. Demontig silently returned to his leaning position, his hands re-crossed behind his back.
“You, Mr Lang, are a pedlar of fear. No doubt you would have enjoyed my torment. Perhaps you would have laughed like everyone else. But you will laugh at Demontig no more. You will no longer enjoy the riches that you earn from removing the security in ones dreams, or using the sacred name of the dead to line your filthy pockets. You will have your chance to survive. I am a gambling man. If you are of sound mind and character, then you will be able to regain your senses quicker than if you are a weak and foolish man. If you do, you will live, and your lesson will be learnt. If you are feeble, then you will be doomed, and you will not be missed from this world. Let me tell you what I will do…….”
Jack was listening hard to Demontig. The words were muffled through the window pane. But he could make out what was being said, and was transfixed. Was this man mad, talking to this dead body? Or was it all true, and how could it be possible? He leant in closer, trying to get his ear as close as he could, without being seen. He turned his head to one side and pressed his ear against the window. There was now no sound coming from the room. He looked back in through the window, and there before him stood Dr Demontig, staring straight back at him. His blue eyes piercing and hypnotic. His expression blank and unwavering. Jack gasped and jolted back from the window in surprise. As he did, a large, rough and unseen hand grabbed him tightly by the neck. A dull pain hit him behind the ear. Jack caught sight of a brass syringe, before everything went dark and quiet.
When Jack regained consciousness, he was face to face with Demontig, who was already in full flow. His arms were waving around and his mouth was moving, but there was no sound. Slowly but surely the sound grew in volume, until Jack could hear everything that was being said. Jack’s whole body did not feel connected. He couldn’t move anything. He was trapped, frozen in time, yet his mind raced. His eyes felt sore, and he couldn’t even feel himself breathe. At first, this did not concern him. He was trying too hard to focus on what this man was saying. He didn’t panic. He just listened.
“………So of course that is why you cannot just go free. I am sorry. Demontig is a gambling man, but not a fool. Not that anyone would believe a young street boy like you over the great Dr Demontig. But let us not tempt fate. Well, I am unsure what you heard, but please let me share with you Mr Lang’s fate. You did not get to hear the best part yet. Mr Lang was placed into a small cave that I have in my fabulous gardens. He was abandoned and smeared in honey. He was unbound….. I am not a monster!.... He was naked, as I do not believe in damaging teeny tiny animal’s digestive systems. I am sad to say that Mr Lang was a real disappointment of a man. He did not move a muscle all the way through his death. Nothing. He was chewed to death by dozens of rats and he could not even bring himself to let out a whimper. Most disappointing. But then, the pleasure of the hunt is the second priority of my work. Removing Mr Lang and his like-minded fools is the first.”
Reality started to enter Jack’s mind. The predicament he was in started to dawn on him. Was he to be the next victim? He couldn’t feel anything. His body didn’t react as it should have.
Demontig walked over to Jack and leaned in close to his face. Jack could smell his aftershave, and feel his breath on his cheek.
“My man servant, Dog, said we should just slit your throat and bury you in the grounds. What a disaster that would be to my lawn, I told him. And anyway, I am not a murde
rer of young boys. I am a crusader for the victims of this world. But, something must be done with you. I do love a gamble and the tingle of taking a chance drives me wild with pleasure. What to do? What to do?”
Demontig stared, for what felt like ages, into the poor boy’s eyes. He thought long and hard what to do with him. He couldn’t just kill the boy. That went against his code of honour. It went against what he knew to be right, but everything had gone too far. If the boy got away, he could tell and Demontig would lose everything, but that in itself was a thrill. Taking chances was something that Demontig revelled in. Demontig straightened up and walked away from Jack, his arms behind his back and his chin up in the air. He walked around the room, one foot carefully placed in front of the other.
“I will give you a chance at life. I have wanted to try something for a long while. A method of execution that I dared not before. I will give you the chance as I do feel sorry for you. You do not deserve all this. You were merely in the wrong place and spying on the wrong maniac.” Demontig burst into his childish chuckle. He fought to keep his face straight after he had amused himself. He composed himself. “Let’s roll the dice, my poor boy.”
Demontig gracefully glided out of sight and his swishing footsteps faded off into the distance. Jack was left all alone. His mind still remarkably calm. He didn’t know what was really happening. Two words had burnt themselves into his thoughts. Execution and chance. The rest of Demontig’s speech was lost in the haze of his mind. Then everything was cast aside. His thoughts fell solely to his sister, Kate. Was she safe? He thought, dreamlike, for a while. Before long, he felt unconcerned about his situation. He fell asleep.
Jack was awoken when his body was lifted up. Only when he was being moved did he realise that he had been propped in a chair all along. His body was still paralysed and straight away confusion hit him. What was happening? Where was he? His mind had reacted badly to the situation and shock had rendered him delirious. EXECUTION. CHANCE. He was going to be killed if he didn’t get himself moving. His thoughts zoomed in to a sharp focus and the seriousness of his fate struck him like a cold iron to the face. His mind began to race. His stomach started to turn and he began to feel nauseous. Adrenaline felt like it was starting to trickle around his body. He was being held by both arms, and then felt himself being picked up high into the air. He was then slung over a person’s shoulder and he folded over so that his head was by the seat of a heavily stained pair of brown trousers. His arms dangled down to the ground. In the room, he could hear that there was Demontig, the man who was holding him on his shoulder, and another man. They were all talking together.
“Now,” said Demontig. “I want you to take this boy to the anatomist. You may keep the money for him. Just get him there quickly and in one piece.”
“Why do you not want any money for him?” asked a husky voice. “Is there an issue that you’re trying to distance yourself from, mister?”
“Yeah,” said a high pitched male voice. “Not one of your lusts is he? Why would you just give him to us?”
“Fine,” said Demontig. “You may go, and I will find someone else.”
“Okay, okay. We will have him. But if there is something going on here, and we get into trouble, then we will make sure that you are the one swinging. Understand?”
The air went quiet, before Demontig responded in an angry and sharp tone. “Just make sure you get him there quickly and safely, or you would wish to be found at the end of a rope as opposed to what I would have in store for you.”
“Don’t threaten me, Mary!” said the husky voice. Jack could feel the vibrations of his voice through his body. It was the husky sounding one that was carrying him.
“You will get a pretty penny for a fresh corpse like this. Children are always in demand and so you will get a good price. If you want your pockets filled then do as I say. If you want to argue and speculate then you can leave and I will find someone else. That is all I have to say. Take it or leave it.”
The two other men grumbled and huffed and then finally walked off, with Jack, out of the room and into a dark corridor. Jack could see nothing other than the man’s posterior striking him repeatedly in the face. His eyes still locked, like every inch of his whole body. They left the house and the cool chill of the outside air was refreshing on Jack’s face. It was still night time, or at least early morning. It was still rather dark and Jack could hardly see anything. They stopped, only a short distance from the house. They were still in the gardens of Demontig’s estate.
“What is it?” said the husky voice.
“I have to ask Demontig what we say when they ask where we got him,” replied the high pitched voice. “Wait here with him whilst I go back.”
Jack felt himself lowered back to the floor. He was laid on his back and could now see the man who had been carrying him. The man was muscular and unshaven. His clothes were just rags that hung from him. His hair tangled and greasy. He stood over Jack, staring down at the young boy. A wicked smile crawled across his face, and his hand ran down to the top of his trousers. He looked up after his companion, who was halfway across the lawn, on his way back to the house. He looked down at Jack. He began to undo his trousers, and dropped them down to his ankles. Jack looked up at the man, unable to react. He knew what was about to happen. The man lowered himself down to the ground and Jack could feel his belt being tugged at. He felt his trousers being drawn down the sides of his thighs. His voice was screaming in his head. He was still not moving, but his sense of flight was electric. His whole being was desperate to do something. His body was rolled over in the grass, his face pressed into the dew soaked blades. His airway was blocked, and his breathing severely retarded. He was being suffocated. His body trapped in a fatal position, about to be molested. He felt the man pressing against him, when a sharp sound made them both jump.
“What the fuck are you doing?” bellowed the man with the high pitched voice. “Are you mad?”
Jack’s body had jolted. He had been shocked by the shouting, and his body had reacted. The jolt had managed to get him into a position where air was now just flowing into his mouth.
“What do you think?” said the husky sounding man. “He isn’t going to care what I do to him. He’s dead!”
“So, if we take this body to an anatomist, a medical doctor, who is going to examine the body, and the body has just been raped, you don’t think that it would be an issue? Are you stupid, or do you want to swing?”
Jack was re-dressed and lifted back onto the man’s shoulder. Their journey continued and Jack’s mind turned to escape. If he could move enough, he could be saved. And he had just moved.
Jack was loaded onto a wooden cart. He landed with a considerable bump, which resulted in harsh words being exchanged between the two men. One wanted the corpse to arrive in good shape, the other didn’t care. A blanket was pulled over the boy’s face and body, and the carriage bounced off down the road. The vibrations from the rough ground rippled through Jack’s skull, causing him severe pain and discomfort. He was jarred at every pothole, which cracked his head hard against the solid boards under him. The unsmoothed wood cut across his back. The pain became so bad that Jack felt sick and finally fell into unconsciousness once more. Jack woke as he was dragged off the cart and raised again onto one of the men’s shoulders.
The party were soon walking down the dark cobbled streets and remained quiet all the way. They got to a door, which stood almost hidden within the wall of a large imposing stone building. Jack had been mistaken. It was actually night time. The natural light had dimmed more since leaving the gardens. Jack must have slept for the whole day. One of the men knocked on the door. They waited. He knocked again, louder this time. Finally the door opened and the three entered a brightly lit room. They talked to another man. He questioned the two men as to how they came across the dead boy. They answered in a convoluted way. Avoiding any responsibility for the boy, they just wanted their money and they would go. The man paid them. The tw
o repulsive scoundrels, that had brought him there, then left. Jack was relieved. But where was he now? He was placed face up on a steel bench. The man in the room with him moved him around on several occasions, so Jack concluded that he must be on a trolley. He could hear the wheels squeak whenever the table was moved. The man stood over him. He was an older man, rugged in looks, and rather plump. He slowly removed the corpse’s clothes, leaving him naked on the trolley. At first, the cold steel stung his skin. He felt his back gently pulling away from the icy surface. He was moving again, but ever so slightly. Not enough to get anybody’s attention. A door opened and another person’s voice called through.
“Ah, what have we here then?” asked a smooth, educated voice.
“It’s a boy, Sir,” replied the man. “Twelve to fifteen I think. Quite unusual. I will prepare him for you, Sir.”
“Thank you, Ives,” replied the smooth voice. “The students will be coming in soon. Very good indeed.”
The door creaked closed.
Ives went off, out of the room, and returned with a bucket of water and a sponge. He carefully washed the body, and towelled it dry afterwards. The cold water was invigorating on Jack’s skin. He could feel the water run down his sides and across his face. He started to feel alive. This was a pleasant sensation, the first in quite a while. Ives stopped. He was stunned. He leant in towards to Jack and looked closely at his arms. The hairs on the dead boy were standing up on end as a cool draught crept over his naked flesh. Goosebumps appeared along his arms and chest. Ives was baffled. This surely couldn’t be right.
“Sir!” shouted Ives. “Sir, can I distract you, please?”
The door opened.
“Yes Ives, what is it?”
Ives was about to speak, but before he could, voices erupted from the other room.
“Sorry Ives, I do not have time to chat, I must see to the students. Please bring the body out as soon as you can. Thanks awfully.”
The door creaked shut again.
Ives stared back down at the boy’s arms. He shook his head and stood back up. “What do I know? I’m no doctor.”
With that, a thin white sheet was drawn up over Jack’s face.
The sound from the other room began to grow. The hubbub of noise was a mishmash of whispering, jeering and laughter. No individual conversations were distinguishable. Just noise. Jack was wheeled into the room, his face still covered. The gabble of voices surrounded him, and their words were loud and frightening. They came from all directions. Finally, the cacophony was quelled in an instant when a great pinging noise penetrated throughout the room. The pinging noise was coming from the trolley, which Jack lay motionless on. It was being struck hard with an unknown object, and the vibrations tingled through the boy’s limbs.
“Quiet, everybody please.” It was the man with the smooth, educated voice. “Everybody please take your seats so that we may begin.”
The room filled with the sound of shuffling and whispers, before falling deadly silent once more.
“Gentlemen. Please welcome our esteemed guest for this evening, the most celebrated, Dr Hain Mills.”
There was a brief round of applause, before a powerful, demanding voice cut through the sound.
“Let me welcome you all to Highgate College of Medicine. I know most of you have travelled far and are new to this lovely theatre. It is my first time here also, and I must say that I am very impressed by the facilities. I wish you all a pleasant evening and hope that this night of dissection will be of interest to you all. This is a one off evening with myself, Dr Hain Mills, and I am very proud to have been invited here to perform for you all. It is occasions like this that will befit our future medical pioneers with all the experience that your predecessors, such as I, can offer. Not that I am planning to retire anytime soon, of course. But I am eager in playing my part in the progress of medicine by passing my knowledge on to you. You could say, that you are about to stand on the shoulder of a giant.”
The audience applauded again.
“Now then,” Dr Hain Mills continued. “We have several cadavers to eviscerate tonight. Some of them are a little ropey, I must say. But it is your duty to perform equally as well on a fresh body as you would a rotten mass of puss. Not that we have any rotting masses of puss, thankfully. But we do have a variety of unfortunates to help us in our demonstration. You will of course all need to take notes. Firstly, I am happy to announce that we will start on a lovely fresh cadaver that has just come in to our possession. It is also of interest as it is a young specimen. We will not often get to take apart a young specimen, as donation of such bodies are rare. So please all pay attention as this is a real opportunity.”
The white sheet was whisked away from Jack’s body. His sight was instantly blighted as a powerful light was directed down onto his face. His eye balls dried under the heat and his forehead felt like it was burning. Jack paid no notice to this. His mind would not concentrate on what was happening to him. He was still unable to pay attention. This was the moment that he needed to make himself move, but he couldn’t even track what was being said around him, never mind force a movement to prove his life. He was about to be dissected, but he didn’t understand that.
“Now, I will begin by making a long incision, starting down the sternum of the subject. I will follow this by the standard semi lateral cuts along the base of the neck, in order to make the maximum exposure of the rib cage and the abdomen. Once we are open, we can start removing the major organs, etcetera.”
Dr Hain Mills picked up a large scalpel and placed the razor sharp leading edge on to Jack’s chest. Jack’s thoughts were still tumbling around. He was unable to remember the previous words spoken and was oblivious to the imminent danger that rested gently on his breastbone.
“Now for the long incision.”
Dr Hain Mills pushed down hard with the scalpel and drew it along Jack’s chest and through his abdomen, slicing the flesh wide open. As he reached the pubic bone, Dr Hain Mills retracted in horror. His eyes widened as he watched blood trickle from the cut he had just made.
He mumbled to himself, bewildered. “How can blood flow against gravity without a beating heart?”
He looked over at those standing around the room. They all looked back at him, unsure as to what was going on.
“A stethoscope!” yelled Dr Hain Mills, at one of the assistants. “Give me a stethoscope, damn you!”
The assistant scrambled around in a large leather bag by his feet and drew out a stethoscope. He hurriedly shuffled over to the doctor and passed it to him. Dr Hain Mills quickly placed the stethoscope to Jack’s neck and listened carefully. His eyes stared and sweat began to soak his brow. His hands trembled as he made out the faintest rhythm.
“This boy is still alive,” he muttered. “This boy is still alive,” he shouted. “Someone help me now. Someone help for the sake of the Lord’s mercy.”
As the other doctors and assistants surrounded Jack and began to work furiously on him, a small thin person sat on the edge of his seat at the top of the auditorium. The shadowy figure leant on his cane and stood up. He watched the melee for a few seconds more before placing his top hat atop his head and slowly and gracefully exiting the room.