Nyctophilia

The Transfer

Hubert heaved a sigh of relief as soon as both the women left. He simply couldn't bear the thought of Mary finding out that her beloved son was dead. She would have probably died out of the grief that it would have caused. He looked at his watch. It was almost seven-fifty. Its time, he thought, they should be here any minute. He took an envelope out of his jacket, which was hanging on the coat-hanger and paced it neatly on his table, in such a way that it could be easily seen. Just then, the doorbell rang. Hubert walked briskly to the door and opened it. Two men stood there, their hats low over their faces, such that only their mouths and their chins could be seen. They nodded to Hubert. "Lancaster, Dominic," said Hubert, nodding back to them. "Come in," he said.

The one called Dominic was the first to speak.

"Is he alive?" His voice was colder than that of Lancaster's.

"No," replied Hubert. "He died about less than an hour ago."

"Good. That gives us time to prepare for our process. I hope the apparatus is ready, Lancaster?"

"Yes it is, Dominic," murmured Lancaster, who seemed as if he was in no mood to speak. "And I suggest we leave soon, because by the looks of it, I think Hubert's wife will be back home in some time."

Unfolding a man-sized bag from the depths of his coat, Lancaster held it open while Hubert and Dominic picked up John's lifeless body from the armchair and place him inside it. Dominic zipped it shut. Hubert put on his coat and carrying the body-bag with John inside it, they went out through the back door, entered the carriage that was waiting for them, and left.