Oisín McGann - Ancient Appetites

Nate let out a yell of frustration and thumped his head against his pillow.

Climbing out of bed, he pulled on a dressing gown and made his way down to the laboratory. As the elevator doors slid open on the floor where Gerald had his rooms, Nate heard a low moaning sound. Three voices were softly wailing in a haunted chorus of pain. He hurried along the hallway. It could only be the bog people, and this was the first time he had heard their voices.

He was not surprised to find Gerald awake. The four ravaged figures were breathing unaided and his cousin was watching them as if hypnotized. The bodies were covered by blankets and a fire burned fiercely in the fireplace, but still they shivered uncontrollably. There were still gold needles visible, sticking out of their flesh, but the electrical wires had been removed. They had Gerald's complete attention now: all the other bones and corpses unearthed by the explosion were gone; reassembled and returned to their graves. He was spending every waking hour assisting them in their recovery. He looked up with a start and greeted Nate with a nod.

'How long have they been making that racket?' Nate asked.

'Started about an hour ago,' Gerald replied. 'They're still not conscious – it's as if they're in a delirious state. Well, three of them anyway; this fourth one hasn't made a sound.'

He indicated the taller of the two males. The man's body was in the worst state of all of them, and at nearly seven feet tall, was easily the largest. They had found wounds all over his body and it was clear that he had not been buried without a struggle.

'Quite the brute, isn't he?' Gerald muttered. 'Doesn't seem to be much fight in him now. Not like the others.'

The moaning filled the room, an aching, sorrowful noise. Nate found the sound deeply disturbing.

'It's bloody awful,' he breathed.

'You've been hurt enough times yourself… and you've had to heal,' Gerald said quietly. 'Think about it. You know what it's like to have a wound close up, or have a broken bone knit itself back together. It's painful. Sharp pain eventually subsides to a throbbing, then the itching and discomfort of healing, the feeling of being fragile… mortal. Their bodies are just starting to feel again after hundreds of years. Their entire physiologies are rebuilding themselves; their organs are beginning to function again, their nerve endings are growing back. Ever come back inside on a freezing cold day and felt the pain in your hands as they started to thaw out?'

Nathaniel nodded.

'These people are coming back from the dead! Gerald whispered. 'And every inch of their bodies is in absolute agony'

Nate leaned over to take a closer look at one of the women. She lay on the table with blankets tucked up to her chin, her feeble jaw opened as wide as it could, moving slightly as she groaned. The woman had the remains of black hair and a set of what must once have been good teeth. Gold needles stuck out of her cheeks and jaw, and he could see that her flesh was paler and already seemed to be filling out. Her body had lost some of its flattened appearance. Her eyelids did not look as sunken as before. When he touched the skin it was still cold, but it no longer had that dead, leathery quality.

The other woman had red hair and a misshapen face, which had been crushed crooked by the ground that had buried her. As she moaned, her shivering body gave sudden twitches. When she was found, one of her legs had been folded back across her body at an impossible angle; Nate noticed that it had been straightened out.

'The bones are regaining their original shapes?' he asked.

'Yes.' Gerald nodded. 'Don't ask me how. I've been resetting where I could, but it wouldn't be possible if their limbs kept the shape the ground had forced upon them. It's the same with their skulls and their teeth too – they're recovering their original forms. It's another mystery to be solved.'

Nate looked at the shapes stretched out under the thick blankets. For the first time he began to see them as people, rather than archaeological oddities.

'We should put them into beds,' he said.

Gerald straightened up.

'You're right, of course,' he agreed. 'I wasn't thinking. We should try and make them as comfortable as we can.'

While Nate examined each of the patients more closely, his cousin gave some instructions to a servant standing unobtrusively in a corner. The man bowed and left the room. Nate looked at his own hand, thinking about the wound on his palm that had almost healed. Normal people's injuries did not disappear in a couple of days. He and these strange bodies shared a link he could not comprehend. Where had this unearthly power come from?

'I don't understand,' he said at last.

'Nor do I.' Gerald chuckled, coming up beside him. 'But I will!

The wailing moans grew louder, as if the reanimated bodies sought to share their suffering.

Nathaniel snapped awake, roused by the sound of moving furniture. They were bringing beds into the laboratory next door. He was sitting on the sofa in Gerald's living room. History books and scribbled notes littered the floor; Gerald was still trying to trace the ancestors' past. Clancy was standing by the door and Nate had the impression that he had been there for some time.

'Clancy'

'Master Nathaniel.' The manservant dipped his head in a modest bow.

Nate rubbed his eyes and yawned. He had come in here to sit down and must have dozed off. The melancholy moans were still going on. He felt as if they had seeped into his being; he was feeling thoroughly depressed and in need of escape from the bodies and their unbearable pain. His thoughts turned to Marcus and his heart felt as if it were made of lead.

'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir,' Clancy said to him. 'But the Duke has requested your company at your earliest convenience.'

Nate scowled. He very much doubted that his father had used the word 'request'. Realizing he was still in his nightshirt and dressing gown, he stood up and yawned again. He couldn't face his father in a dressing gown. Not only was it improper; he needed as much armour as he could get.

'What time is it?'

'Just before nine, sir.'

'That late? I must have been asleep for hours. I need to get dressed.'

'I took the liberty of bringing some clothes down for you, sir,' Clancy said, gesturing to a grey suit hanging on a shelf by the door. 'The Duke indicated that your prompt arrival would be appreciated.'

Nate drew a hissed breath through his teeth. There was to be no delaying then. He had hoped for a cup of tea first at least, while he chose the right outfit.

'I see I have no excuse for being late. Thank you, Clancy'

'Your convenience is my reason for living, sir.'

Nate experienced the usual butterflies in his belly as he approached the door to his father's study. Knocking diffidently, he waited until he was summoned into the imposing room. Edgar sat behind his desk, and standing on the near side of the slab of teak was Slattery, the bailiff. He gave Nathaniel a welcoming smile, a gold tooth glinting in the morning light.

'You're late,' Edgar grunted.

'Sorry, Father.'

The two Maasai servants stood in the corners, looking for all the world like a pair of ebony statues. Nate didn't know if these were the same two who'd been here last time. One of them might have been the one who had comforted him when his leg was broken; he couldn't be sure. There were four altogether, all brothers, and he sometimes had trouble telling them apart. By their very nature, servants were supposed to be unnoticeable. The three bull mastiffs were asleep near Edgar's feet.

'It is time you involved yourself in the family business,' his father said to him. 'You will start by overseeing the investigation into the rebel attack. Slattery here will brief you on the progress to date.'