Kit Crumb: Body Parts

The closer they got to the fork in the tunnel the more their candles flickered. As they stood at the split, they detected a slight breeze and had to protect the tentative candle flames with their hands.

“I think the decision has been made for us,” Claire said, nodding towards the right.

As the candles burned down into the wax, the flames produced less and less light. Soon the women were walking side by side holding the candles next to each other, in an attempt to get as much light out of them as they could. Claire kept one shoulder on the wall as she walked, to provide a guide as the candles gave out just enough light to show where they were stepping.

“Stop for a minute and take the candles, I’m going to get the penlight out while I still have enough light to see what I’m doing.”

“Tell me again why we’re in here,” Crystal said.

“Looking for a place to hide until nightfall,” Claire said, stuffing the penlight into her hip pocket.

“What time is it? Seems like we’ve been walking for at least an hour.”

Claire pressed the button on her watch illuminating the face. “Not a chance. Only about thirty minutes.”

When they started walking again, Crystal took the lead crouching to hold the candles low so they could see their feet, and dragging her shoulder on the tunnel wall. Claire hovered at her shoulder, staring at the ever-shrinking halo around their feet. Then, with a gasp, the light was gone.

“Crystal?” Claire waved her hands in an attempt to find her.

“It’s OK, I think I’m in a room of some kind, but there must be bats in here, cause something sure stinks.”

“Just stay where you are.”

“Could you hurry up with the flashlight? I’m starting to get creeped out.”

“I’m going to use the lighter instead of the flashlight to find you and see if I can light the candles again.”

“Fine, please just hurry up.”

Claire spun the wheel on the lighter causing sparks and a small flame by which she could just see what appeared to be an oval opening to a small room about six feet high. She had just made out Crystal’s long hair, when the flame went out.

“Shit.” She shook the lighter for the sound of fluid.

Again she spun the wheel. Spark, but no flame. And again. Same result. With each flash of spark she’d take another step into the room, and with each spark she would catch sight of Crystal’s long hair. But something was wrong, her hair was dangling, she must be laying down, not on the floor but on a ledge.

“Crystal, you OK?”

“Yeah fine, you’ve got about ten feet to go.”

Her voice didn’t come from the direction Claire had been following. Puzzled, she put the lighter in her hip pocket and took out the pen light, pointed it in the direction she’d been going and turned it on.

Suddenly the room came alive with dangling hair—long hair, short hair—all hanging from heads in every state of decay. Bare shoulders, breasts, nude bodies. And with every shudder that passed through Claire, the light she was holding moved and the heads danced until Crystal’s scream jolted her into pointing the light at the ground, but it was too late. Crystal in her haste to escape barreled into Claire, knocking her to the ground as she ran from the room.

As she fell, the penlight flew from her hand. Confused, she lay against the tunnel wall where she’d fallen, listening to Crystal’s screams fade into the darkness. It was when they abruptly stopped that she began feeling around the floor for the penlight, finding instead what she thought was a rock until she found a wire leading in from one side. She depressed the top of the rock. Suddenly the room lit up like daylight. Claire got to her feet in a state of shock. Stacked from the floor to what must have been an eight-foot ceiling were bodies. Each had its own shelf, and each was face up with the head at the outside edge of the shelf, hair dangling. There were no labels, numbers or names. The room reminded Claire of the catacombs below some of the ancient churches in Rome.

The light came from four large spotlights mounted onto a metal crossbeam bolted to the ceiling. As she turned to scan the walls of corpses, one of the bodies caught her attention. It was on the rear wall, fourth shelf from the bottom. She noticed something tiny sticking up from between the breasts.

Extracting a pair of surgical gloves from her butt pack, Claire gingerly grasped the body just under the shoulders and slid it out a few inches. There in the middle of the chest were sutures, several sticking up just enough to catch the light. She’d seen this before. The body had undergone some kind of heart surgery. Moving from body to body it soon became apparent that each had undergone major surgery on an organ. She shuddered as she realized that even in death these were young, attractive women, and that some of the bodies were hardly a week old. The glint off her little silver penlight broke her concentration and reminded her that Crystal was out in the mine somewhere. After retrieving her flashlight, she stepped on the floor switch sending the room into darkness, as though the bodies had never existed.

It was easy to follow Crystal, even with the dim penlight. Instead of going back the way they’d come, she’d continued up the tunnel leaving footprints. As Claire followed her progress down the tunnel, the image of the bodies haunted her, but instead of blocking them from her mind, she re-examined each one, until she stopped in her tracks and began to count on her fingers.

Each one has a major scar, she thought holding up one finger, and each one was young, none looked over twenty-five. Another finger went up. And they were all beautiful, at least in life. Another finger.

That’s when she made the connection. My God, she thought, anyone of those women could have been a porn star and every one of them had been eviscerated.

Claire’s head began to swim at the realization that these women weren’t murdered for some petty fracture of a rule, or for money, or an adulterous act. They were all hired like Crystal and her friend, for a single purpose, and it wasn’t to perform sex. These women weren’t hired for their youthful beauty, but for the value of their organs.

“Oh God. When I illuminated the room with my penlight Crystal must have seen her friend,” she said in a whisper.

She was sickened at what she’d discovered, then a rush of panic washed over her at the thought of Crystal running blindly through the mine with no light at all, just the mental image of her friend’s lifeless body.

Claire looked down the mineshaft and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Crystal,” she yelled. Then louder, “Crystal!” Her only answer was a faint echo.

The inside of the suv was like a dark oven. With all the windows tinted except the windshield, the interior was oppressively hot. Rye’s captors seemed not to notice. The one called Vince climbed across the folded seats, sat behind the steering wheel and started the engine.

“Just relax, Mr. Rye. I’m afraid Lewd and Lascivious is located in a rather rough neighborhood. Another ten minutes and somebody might steal my tires.”

Rye was surprised that the mob—he was sure these guys were mob—would have a problem with looters. At first he tried to count the times the SUV turned a corner, but he lost track. Then he attempted to establish landmarks through the windshield, but from the back all he could see was sky and the occasional top of a telephone pole. He finally squirmed into the back corner of the SUV and settled in for the ride.

“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Rye, that we’re taking you for a ride. Well, you’re right.” His captor began to laugh. “Dude, you been watchin’ too many movies. We’re driving to a safe location where we won’t be disturbed.”