Take Heart

Death in the Alley

 Emelie gagged as the thick, iron scent of blood clogged her throat. Holding back her tears, she proceeded to cut through the man's breastbone. With all of her might, she tore it in half. The sickening crack made her stomach heave, and she had to pause momentarily in order to keep from vomiting in the alley. Forcing her eyes open, she retrieved her tools and very carefully began to cut the heart from the man's chest.

She moved with speed and accuracy. This was not her first harvesting. Still, she always found herself repulsed by the smell and sight of the blood that spilled from her victim and coated her hands and her dress. But she didn't have time to dwell on the repulsive scene before her. As soon as the heart was freed from the man's body, Emelie stashed it away in her satchel and fled the scene.

As she ran through the streets, her lungs ached from the cold. The satchel in her hands was heavy and wet, and with every step, she felt the precious minutes ticking away. She could not tarry. She had to speed up. If she wanted this to be the last time, she had to hurry.

Rounding the corner on Freemont Street, she set her sights on the red door that marked Mr. Godwin's home. Racing up the stairs, she burst inside. It was well past midnight, so all of the other servants were asleep in bed. Stopping at the basement door, Emelie fumbled for the key that hung about her neck. After several frantic attempts, she managed to unlock the door and descended quickly down the stairs.

The drastic change in temperature hit her immediately. It was like walking into an icebox. The smells of medicine and chemicals assailed her senses. But what unnerved her most of all was the buzzing of electricity. The hairs on her arms stood on end, even knowing what she was walking into.

Mr. Godwin's back was turned to her as she entered the laboratory. He was fiddling with one of his many contraptions. Her eyes darted to the operating table in the center of the room, but she refused to settle her attention on it. She'd be forced to look upon the ungodly creation soon enough.

She approached Mr. Godwin and laid a hand on his shoulder. He started and turned, panic written on his face. But when he saw it was only her, he relaxed and swallowed the knot in his throat.

"I ought to put a bell on you, Miss Waterbrook," he said. "You walk so soundlessly."

"I apologize, Mr. Godwin."

"No need for apologies. I'm certain it is a useful skill when running your late-night errands."

His eyes wandered to her bloody hands that gripped the satchel. She held the bag out to him, but he would not take it. Instead, he nodded and motioned for her to follow him. She did so reluctantly, pulling off her coat and tossing it in the corner. Mr. Godwin handed her a heavy leather apron identical to the one he sported. They stationed themselves before the operating table, and Emelie at last allowed herself to gaze upon the patient.

The little boy that lay before them would have looked peaceful if it were not for the wires protruding from his open chest. Emelie's eyes followed them to the oversized Leyden Jar that sat on a table beside the boy. The electricity inside was hardly visible, but Emelie could feel it as she stood nearby. It was like a wild beast, spitting and raging against its cage. It seemed wrong to be sending such a vicious entity inside of a little boy.

"Ready the heart," Mr. Godwin said, bringing her attention back to him.

Emelie pulled the organ from her satchel. It was wet and heavy in her hands. She had to stop herself from recoiling and dropping it on the hard, stone floor. What a waste that would be. Rather, she placed it on the small table that Mr. Godwin had wheeled between them, his tools already set out. They winked up at her in the flickering light of the gaslamps. Emelie wondered at Mr. Godwin's use of such lighting when he had harnessed the power of electricity. But he was so fixated on sending all of that energy into his son that she assumed the thought had never even crossed his mind.

"Stand ready," Mr. Godwin said.

Muscles tensing once again, Emelie's eyes watched as Mr. Godwin carefully but quickly unhooked the wires from the little boy's heart and removed the organ from his chest. Now the countdown began. They only had so much time to work before the child's body would shut down forever.

However, time had yet to beat Mr. Godwin. His nimble hands immediately began attaching the fresh heart to the various ventricles and muscles inside of the boy's chest. His concentration never wavered, his fingers never rested. Having Emelie at his side helped as well. She knew exactly which tool he needed when so that he needn't waste a moment or a breath. At this point, they had performed the procedure enough times that she knew the steps by heart.

Which was why she was not surprised when, after several minutes of watching the newly transplanted heart, the organ began to slow and stutter. Mr. Godwin cursed under his breath. He did not even wait for the heart to cease beating before he got to work attaching the wires to this new heart, tossing the old one aside.

Emelie backed away, swallowing down the terror of another failure. She glanced down at her bloodstained hands. How many more people would she have to murder before the stains became permanent? How many more times would she have to butcher innocent citizens in order to steal their vital organs? How many more nights could she do this without getting caught?