The Vivisectionist (14 page)

“This is not a debate, Jack,” said his father. “Our job is to keep you safe so that one day you can make your own informed decisions. This is not yet that time.”

“Where will we even sleep—we can’t fit three in my room,” asked Jack.

“You can have the basement rec-room,” answered his mom. “Get your sleeping bags set up down there.”

The room was quiet for several moments. Jack didn’t want to look to see how Stephen and Ben were taking the news so he looked at the floor. His shoulders slumped, weighed down with the punishment.

“Okay? Go finish your breakfast,” directed his mom.

They turned and shuffled out. Back in the kitchen they cooked and ate in silence.

**********

They laid out their gear in the basement. Trouble settled on the three boys.

Stephen tried to lighten the mood—“Hey, only nine more days for me.”

“Very funny,” replied Ben.

“Don’t blame me, they were looking for an excuse to take away our privileges,” said Stephen. “That was 
not
 based on those shell casings.”

“I wonder how they found out about the kids shooting those animals?” pondered Jack.

“Probably that target guy,” said Ben.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t even there when they shot the cat,” reminded Stephen.

“Maybe Smoker threatened him and then the cops staked it out,” said Ben.

They sat down and turned on the television. Outside the gray morning had turned into a drizzly afternoon.

“What if we told your dad about the dog. Maybe he would realize we were doing the right thing,” said Ben.

“That’s dumb,” said Jack. “He would just be more pissed that we were there and didn’t tell anyone. Plus, it’s my mom we have to worry about.”

“That’s true,” said Stephen. “She’s definitely calling the shots there.”

“Hey, shut up, dumb-ass,” said Jack.

“Douche-ism,” said Ben. “It’s contagious.”

“Who are you talking to?” Jack turned to Ben.

“Both of you,” replied Ben.

“What the hell?” asked Stephen. “What did I do?”

Ben raised his hands—“Who are you guys pissed at?” He turned to Jack. “Your parents? Big deal. So we find stuff to do inside for a while. They’ll calm down.”

“But there’s still tons of stuff we should do,” said Jack. “I just got my sling off.”

“And what about that red light?” asked Stephen. “We should be out there right now, finding out what was going on with that.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Besides, we didn’t 
do
 anything.”

“Wait, wait,” said Ben. He lowered his voice and leaned towards Jack and Stephen. “Why don’t we just wait until night and we’ll look for the light again.”

“We’ll never find it,” said Jack.

“No way—it’s 
easier
 to find it at night,” said Ben. “Besides, isn’t the moon going to be full soon? There will be plenty of light.”

“That’s true,” said Stephen.

“Oh, man. You guys are insane. My mom will kill us,” said Jack.

“We’ll be careful,” said Ben. “How did she catch us before? Laundry? All we have to do is check our clothes really carefully when we come in. If they’re wet from dew, we’ll just hide them until they’re dry.”

“And we’re in the basement, and they’re all the way upstairs,” continued Stephen. “We can sneak out this door and they’ll never know.”

“What if she checks on us?” asked Jack.

They were silent as they considered this possibility.

“Fort. We’ll build a pillow-fort with these two couches,” said Ben. “We take all the cushions and put them parallel, like this,” he demonstrated. “Then all we have to do is stay in one night and the second night she’ll just figure we’re in there. If she comes down tonight, we’ll all be in back and when she looks to see where we are we just make a big deal about it.”

“Yeah,” said Stephen, “you just go ‘What’s wrong? Mom? Is that you?’ and then we’ll all be up and she’ll feel bad.”

“I don’t know,” said Jack, furrowing his brow. “Maybe we should just play it cool.”

“Give it a day,” said Stephen. “You’ll change your mind.”

This time, searing pain woke the boy. His eyes opened on a world of shiny metal instruments, bright lights, and wisps of smoke. The pain came from his right thigh and coursed through his body, making him pull at his restraints.

The crazy man with the bull’s head hunched over the boy’s thigh, concentrating fiercely. The man was dressed like a surgeon—covered in blue cotton garb, with a cap, mask, and surgical gloves. His left hand held extra-long tweezers and in his right something that looked like a pen on the end of a mechanical arm.

The man wore glasses with magnifying lenses so that when he looked up at the boy, the boy was startled by the giant eyes set into the bull’s head. That hallucination gave way, and the boy saw him with a man’s head once again.

“If you jerk around like that, I’m going to put you under,” said the man.

The boy looked at his thigh, trying to discover the source of his pain. The man had cut away a portion of his skin and was holding it back with his tweezers while he operated on the muscle below.

The boy gathered his nerve and spoke—“Please stop.” he said.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” said the man. “You had been so good until now. But I despise anything illogical, and you’ve just said something remarkably stupid. Do you know why it was stupid?”

The boy was afraid to speak. He was desperate to not compound his mistake.

“I asked a question,” said the man. He stared into the boy’s eyes.

The boy struggled for the right answer, but he was beginning to panic and couldn’t form a complete thought.

The man, now frustrated, held up the device in his right hand—“This is a medical laser. It’s meant to cut and cauterize to reduce scarring. I’m using it because I like the smell. That,” he pointed a finger towards the boy’s crotch, “is one of the most sensitive parts of your body. Would you like to experience a laser burning your privates?”

“No!” said the boy.

“Then answer—do you know why it was stupid to say ‘Please stop’?” he asked again.

“Yes,” the boy stalled.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t want to?” the boy asked.

The man paused, considering, “You know, that’s pretty close. You’ve redeemed yourself a little. The real answer is a little more complex.” The man sat back and lectured. “It was stupid because I have the power, and I clearly don’t have your interests in mind. You would like me to stop, but I’ve demonstrated no concern for what you want. And, because I’ve shown you that I endeavor to maintain control, the idea that your request would succeed suggests you feel you have some ability to direct my actions.”

The boy was trying to follow the speech, but was captivated and horrified by the device in the man’s right hand.

“So,” the man continued, “your request had no chance of eliciting a positive result for you, and had a significant chance of ending disastrously. That’s why it was stupid and offensive.”

All the boy could think to say was—“Thank you, sir.”

“Ah,” said the man, “definitely a smarter thing to say, but I found it a little patronizing. Let’s see how well you understand this—if you move again, or feel the need to say anything more coherent than a primal scream, I will cut off your entire leg and feed it to you. Do you understand?”

The boy began to nod and then stopped himself, fearing that it would violate his orders. Instead, he closed his eyes and braced himself for the next wave of pain.

The next day, Stephen’s prediction came true. The boys could hardly focus on anything except waiting for the night. They bounced between activities, nervous and killing time. After dinner, they put on a boring movie and attempted to fall asleep early. Ben set his watch’s alarm for three a.m., and by ten p.m. they thought they would never get to sleep. Eventually, they dropped off and Ben’s alarm woke them up.

They were alert instantly, and none wanted to call off the trip. They crawled carefully out of their pillow-fort and uncovered the hidden stash of dark clothing.

Jack felt his heart was about to burst as he tried to silently open the back door. He could hear his breath and held it to control his twitching hands. Once outside, they crept between the bushes until they were out of sight. On the path they nearly hovered with excitement.

“This is the best,” said Jack.

“Yeah,” said Ben. “Where’s the mark?”

“Almost there,” said Jack.

They moved through the woods without lights. The moon was bright and the clouds had mostly disappeared. They were right to worry about wet clothing. By the time they made it to the tree, they were wet from rain hanging on the leaves.

“Do you see it?” asked Jack.

Stephen bent down—“Nope. Let’s wait for a second and see if maybe a leaf is in the way.”

They backed away from the path a bit and hunkered down behind some brush. Each stared at the spot on the tree until they could almost hallucinate anything there in the bark. After almost ten minutes in silence, they were rewarded by the red spot flickering back into existence.

“There it is!” said Stephen.

“Are you sure that’s not just my eyes?” joked Ben.

“Then it’s my eyes too,” said Jack.

“Come on,” ordered Stephen.

Stephen rushed over to the light and thrust his hand in its path. He strode confidently into the woods, following it. Jack and Ben trailed close behind. They made it farther than the previous night, but the light flicked out when Stephen’s hand was almost shoulder-height.

“Let’s just keep going,” said Stephen. “It’s got to be coming from this direction.”

“What’s through these woods again?” asked Ben.

Jack replied—“As far as I could tell, it’s Route 203. There are houses and a couple of businesses.”

“We’re about to find out,” said Stephen. “Look.” He pointed up to a small sapling. On a leaf, at about eye-level, the dot of light shone. “See, if it turns just a tiny bit, the leaf doesn’t block it.” He reached out and tore the leaf from the tree.