Page 142 of The Cannibal

After a moment of meditative breath and strengthening of will, we pulled the sheet from her body.

The skin did not look real. Without much blood in her body it was like staring at marble, small black veins faint, the tips of her fingers blackening. They’d cleaned her thoroughly. Not much evidence would be on her skin or under her nails. All of which had been wiped clean. Even her neck, what was left of it.

If I didn’t look further, maybe it would preserve her memory of when she was alive. But doing so would be selfish. I would rather sacrifice my living memory of her than let her story go untold.

Her green eyes were so pale. The lids were half open from the tightening of the skin, a slow dehydration was the cost of preserving her. Only until they could embalm her.

Which is why I needed to do this now.

They may have pumped my stomach in search of evidence, but they didn’t search hers.

I lifted the shift, its only use for symbolic decency or for those who must witness her.

Her body was unmarked, still concealing the secrets inside. I pressed down on her abdomen, feeling for the stomach, pressing my fingers into her sternum then sliding them slightly below.

I recessed the scalpel vertically down her abdomen from there, about twelve inches long.

Mary whimpered as I pulled the first layer of skin, placing her fingers inside the cold flesh to hold it open. I kept cutting down that line, through each layer, before I reached the outer parietal layer. One more cut and her chest was exposed.

Mary shook as she held the clamp, fingers covered in black.

“Luka, fifty-milliliter syringe,” I said.

I didn’t have to look, he only took a moment to place it in my hand.

With the long needle, I pierced through the stomach, drawing back the plunger before the cylinder began to fill. Stomach fluid bubbled as it was siphoned. I took enough to fill completely in case I needed multiple tests. I made sure to change angles during extraction to get as much as I could.

When I pulled the needle, I quickly placed it down on a tray so I could clean up.

Mary made a gagging noise in the background before I heard the metal waste bin open hastily.

I emptied some of the stomach contents into the flask, careful to watch how much. I went through the cabinets to grab the reagents. Sulfuric acid and pure zinc oxide.

With quick calculations on a pad of paper, I measured out the proper quantities. The cold sweat was already catching up to me. This test was my last hope, I had no more time for guesswork.

I added them to the flask with the sample, giving a small agitation before securing the plug. The scrape of a match quickly set the wick aflame on the small burner. The wisp was small at first, then climbed when the gas from the flask came out from the tube.

I took one of the glass slides from the ice, tapping it of any moisture before holding it over the flame.

It turned from clear to black. I made sure to coat it well before the reaction ran its course.

Luka hovered, I didn’t realize how close until I felt his breath on my shoulder.

When tilting the blackened glass—I sighed such a breath of relief, it would be satisfactory if it were my last.

A black metallic surface shone back at me.

The mirrored surface was so clear, you could even see the tears in my eyes.

“Can you confirm what I’m seeing, Doctor Novikov?” I breathed.

“Only you could climb down from the gallows like this.”

If my ears were working correctly, I thought I heard equal parts awe and annoyance.

I laughed out loud, the widest smile I’ve had in years.

The most difficult task would be hiding my findings until morning.