Chapter 8 – — Restricted Artifacts Registry #2
“Don’t call me Freckles. I don’t need a pet name.
I’m not a gods-damned dog.” I step forward, snatching the scalpel off the table and shoving it into his hand hard enough that he has to catch it or let it fall.
“I may be human, but I don’t need to prove shit to you.
All you’ve been doing is a lot of fucking talking.
Why don’t you show us all how it’s done? ”
I’m breathing hard, seeing red, my pulse pounding so loud I can barely hear myself think.
Draven tilts his head, studying me like I am something he has found under a rock. Then his eyes crinkle at the corners, the only indication of the smile I know is lurking beneath his mask.
“Some mouth you have on you, Freckles.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, my anger spiking, but I force myself to shake it off. I will not give him the satisfaction. I turn away, snatching the instruction pages back from Nyra and bending to pick up the ink pen from the floor.
“Get cutting,” I say without looking at him. “I don’t want to lose this thing because the vampire choked.”
He chuckles but doesn’t waste any time. I hear the blade press into flesh, the faint pop as it breaks through the first layer of skin.
I keep my eyes on the instructions. I don’t want to see what he’s doing or the body on that table.
I don’t want to see my father lying there.
I try to focus on the task at hand and push all intruding thoughts out of my mind. I skim the instructions every team was handed before we started even as my pulse still thrums with residual panic.
“Here.” I hand the list to Nyra, her violet eyes narrow on me. “When you weigh an organ, write it down in grams.”
She takes it reluctantly and grabs another pen from the counter where the woman supervising us sits in silence. I almost forgot she was there.
“Heart’s out first,” Draven says.
I hear the wet, sucking sound as Miles takes it from him and drops it onto the scale with a squishy thud. So Draven is cutting, Miles is handling the organs, Nyra is tracking the weights, and I am making sure we stay on task. We all have roles now. Hopefully that is good for our team.
I remember Malric said one of the things we are judged on is how well we work together.
My outburst, the scalpel I shoved into Draven’s hand, the cursing. Maybe all of it was uncalled for. I need to rein it in and put on a better face if we have any chance at winning this thing.
“If anyone sees anything unusual, call it out so I can take note of it,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to sound authoritative. “Remember, we need to come up with a cause of death and list any anomalies we come across.”
“Stab wound.” Draven doesn’t look up as he works. “Fifth intercostal space on the left side. Looks like it penetrated the apex of the pericardium.”
I glance up to see him extract the liver and hand it to Miles as though he has done this a thousand times. I want to ask him what he did before coming to Ashwell, but not in the heat of the moment. I’d probably get some sarcastic answer anyway.
“Even if that is the cause of death, we still need to weigh everything and document anomalies according to the instructions,” Nyra says from the counter, jotting down the liver’s weight before Miles reaches for a viscera bag.
I ask the question I have been holding back. “What exactly is a crawler? They look almost human.”
I don’t want to show how ignorant I am, but if I am going to be useful, I need to know what I’m dealing with.
“Some are human. This one most likely was, based on his size and bone structure.” Miles turns the liver over in his gloved hands, examining it before bagging it.
“Twisted creatures used to be the only monsters slithering their way out of fissures,” Nyra says, adjusting her mask. “That was true until a couple of years ago when word started to spread about something new that resembled a person but crawled more than it walked and behaved like a crazed beast.”
I glance sideways at her. She said she had never seen one before, but clearly she has heard plenty.
“The origin of crawlers isn’t known yet, as far as anyone can tell.” Draven’s hands pause over the body, and his honey eyes lift to meet mine. “I can only assume that’s partly why they’re having all of us dissect one before our first class even begins.”
I look back at the body, at the ruined face and the blood red eyes.
“You mean this isn’t some hazing competition put on by bone and breath years to mess with us?
” I say, glancing at the blood year supervisor in the corner.
She has already explained that she is not allowed to help us or even speak to us until we finish and she hits the timer, but I wish she would explain something right now.
“I didn’t say that.” Draven picks up the bone saw, and the metallic whine of it fills the room as he begins cutting into the skull.
“I’m sure this is a game to the other years with a prize for the winning team.
But for the professors, this isn’t about seeing who chokes and who can cut it.
I think it goes deeper than that, especially for the headmaster. ”
An uneasy feeling skitters across my skin at the mention of the headmaster.
“What is that supposed to mean? You think they condone this?”
Draven finishes the cut, sets down the saw, and carefully lifts the top of the skull away. The brain is inside, pale and glistening.
“It means these crawlers are starting to show up more and more,” he says, and I don’t like the sound of this.
“They’re crazed. Uncontrolled. They spread and infect others through bites and scratches, turning any bloodline into a crazed monster just like them.
” He removes the brain with both hands, cradling it gently.
“We know they come out of the fissures, but we don’t know why or how. ”
I lean forward, studying the brain’s color and grooves, the folds that once held thoughts, memories, a life.
“I would bet the headmaster and professors have all of us do this to get fresh eyes on these things,” Draven continues, handing the brain to Miles.
“Maybe one of us will notice something that hasn’t been called out before.
The crawlers may not look as terrifying as the twisted creatures, but they’re far more dangerous.
The twisted creatures can kill us, sure, but they can’t turn us into them. ”
Nyra whimpers, fidgeting with her posture like she’s tired of standing. “My parents told me that if the next cycle releases crawlers instead of twisted creatures, they fear none of us will have a chance.”
She shivers then writes down the weight of the brain on her sheet. The pen trembles slightly in her grip.
“What a messed up time to be at Ashwell,” Miles muses, shaking his head.
“More like what a messed up time to be alive,” I say more to myself than anyone, “if the next cycle does start soon.”
“Your parents are right to worry.” Draven strips off one glove to adjust his mask, and I catch a glimpse of his large hand, a thin scar running across his knuckles. “Crawlers wouldn’t simply kill our people and our fighters. They would turn them, and the numbers would grow too quickly to stop it.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
I am definitely going to have nightmares about this tonight.
But worse than the nightmares is the cold realization settling into my bones. I am suddenly worried for Ironfen, for my village, my sister, my mother. If that was a crawler Jace and I saw in the forest, then where did it come from? Is there a fissure we didn’t know about in the woods?
After this, I need to find Jace.
And I need a way to contact my family.
I need to warn them.
I zone out for the second half of the autopsy, too busy worrying about my family and kicking myself for not insisting I speak to them before leaving.
Everything’s been weighed and catalogued and the viscera bags all put back into the body. “We have our presumed cause of death and all the measurements, but we didn’t note any anomalies,” I say, looking over our paperwork.
“There are too many to name. The body is clearly fucked up. This thing has a number of unusual injuries that didn’t heal properly, but organ wise I don’t think we know enough to call anything an anomaly,” Miles says, his eyebrows scrunching as he pulls his gloves off and his mask down, taking in a deep breath like he’s been dying to do that since we started.
His glasses finally clear up with the mask off.
I read over the sheet again at all the notes I took and the weights Nyra wrote down as Draven dissected the body. “Wait.” I say, before we call time. “I need to see the heart.”