In "Black Red Blood White," the gripping conclusion to the riveting saga that began with "Tacit Resonances," author Viktor A. King delves deeper into the enigmatic world of Anna, the tortured soul turned spectral avenger, and Henry, the malevolent m...
Ursula saw herself, pallid, in the absurd whiteness, the hyper-contextual white of the bedsheets, akin to the veiled shrouds covering the bodies of saints, lifeless.
She saw herself lying on an operating table in a room designed for medical procedures. It vaguely reminded her of her dentist's office, thanks to the bright, unidirectional lights. There were two stools, two small cabinets with rubber wheels, and above them, lined up on a white linen bandage, were scalpels, forceps, and a small saw.
Henry approached the operating table, and Ursula stood there motionless, devoid of breath, her rhythmic, panting gasps of fear conspicuously absent.
"How beautiful you were. A magnificent body, long legs, a flat stomach, generous breasts. You were a goddess, my dear Ursula." He stroked her blond hair with aseptic hands encased in latex gloves. A gentle caress on her forehead that grazed her head and kept her pinned to the bed.
But Ursula, this Ursula, could not move.
"Do you see what he does? Now you have to watch, even if it will horrify you. Only then will you understand that I did it for you, for us."
Silence.
Henry picked up a scalpel and made an incision at elbow level. Then he put down the scalpel and wielded a small electric operating room saw, activated it. The noise was that of a continuous, petulant buzzing, filling the air.
He directed it at the flesh near her elbow and applied pressure for the saw to cut through flesh and bone. Blood splashed onto his lab coat and the transparent visor he used to protect his vision. The smell was metallic, saturating the air along with the continuous hissing noise of the saw, which fluctuated in intensity, growing milder or louder as the motor encountered harder or softer mass.
Ursula vomited. An excess of green bile surged up her throat and erupted spontaneously in a fiery geyser.
"He's having fun, did you see that? Don't worry, it happened to me too. Look at his expression, he's smiling."
"Can we leave?"
"No, not in the way you mean...we can go to another room."
Her severed pieces were thrown onto the floor. Alfred, on a cart, was collecting the fragments, stacking them one on top of the other. The cart was dripping with blood, and the floor was saturated with the soft, slimy venous fluid.
The sound of the saw ceased.
"He's finished."
On the operating table, a mournful, blood-red shroud enveloped her head, white and motionless.
"I'm sorry; she has such a beautiful, ethereal, noblewoman's face. The dogs will disfigure it. It is true that we are composed of organic matter, and to the earth, we return, all of us. Alfred, provide and distribute the food."
"I feel empty; would I be the food?"
"Ursula, I need you, do you understand now? I want you to see; follow me."
"My head is there; have they forgotten it?"
"They don't forget anything. You can tell he wants to make more. Ew, look, he made a lake with your blood; it even splashed on the walls."
"Please have a heart..."
"You are no longer yourself. You are this, this voice speaking to me, moving with me, and trapped here, with me."
"Trapped. Have you tried to escape from here? Can't you? Can't you? Tell me!"
"No, I can wander through the rooms, I can follow them, I can listen to them, but I am bound to them. If I leave here, I vanish."
"Vanish? What does that mean? Are you a damn ghost? Do you see that? You've already vanished!"
"I vanish more. I no longer see myself; I become more and more blurred. Then I was afraid it was irreversible, and I didn't proceed. I returned next to them."
"To them? Not just these two butchers, there are others, right?"
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"The whole town, dear... the entire town."
"So you can move around the town."
"Yes."
"What can you do? Exactly what can you do? Speak! You dragged me into this macabre video game!"
"Oh no, sweetie, you dragged yourself into it when you thought you'd become the first lady and instead, you were thinking about being too skinny to eat! And stop crying... Come on, let's go."
Anna moved behind the creaking trolley. Alfred had a quick pace. The corridor was long and narrow, with neon lights on the ceilings every meter, sky-blue linoleum on the floor, and plain white walls.
"Where are you taking me?"
"I don't know. I was thinking of a cold room, and then slowly delivering you to the community during Sunday Holy Mass. But I'm afraid I might encounter yet another surprise."
"I don't know if I want to know..."
"You must, by gathering as much information as possible about your enemy, prepare yourself for victory."
Alfred stopped, and the wheels of the cart ceased their squeaking. A door in front of them opened, and they entered a dimly lit room. Their eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness; it was a stark contrast. The smell was wild, a mixture of wet fur and excrement.
"It stinks, it's like being in a kennel."
Their eyes gradually adjusted, and Alfred moved to the center of two rows of cages. In the dim light of a single hanging bulb, they could see large dogs inside the cages, some growling.
"Some barking, and one even laughed."
The noise was deafening.
"Enough! Bad dogs."
Alfred took one of Ursula's arms and passed it through the slit of the first cage, then continued systematically with each one. The cages housed various breeds, including Molossians, Pitbulls, Rottweilers, Bulldogs, Shepherd Dogs, Mastiffs, and various crossbreeds, all large in size.
"Some are growling slightly; there are twenty cages, ten per row."
Alfred distributed pieces of Ursula, and gradually, the chorus of barking diminished.
