The Monster of Anders Island

By Quill Rabbit

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PART THREE

Every breath was an agonizing rattle that caused Martin’s dry throat to seize up. Doctor Schuyler would appear in and out of his vision to wipe him down and pour water into his mouth, but it was never enough. She always had a warm smile and empty eyes.

“Let me go,” he’d gasp.

“You’re almost done, don’t worry.”

When his first ear fell off, she’d gingerly picked it up in gloved hands and dropped it into a metal tray, then grabbed the other one and peeled it off his head. She’d done the same to his remaining hair, pulling out chunks of mealy flesh along with it. When Doctor Schuyler cleaned him, she would scrub so hard that skin would peel and expose more orange and white scales beneath.

After he’d found the strength to slash at her again, the doctor had bound Martin’s hands in heavy chains. Though Martin could see the sharp pointed nails when he turned his head, they were useless to him. More than once, he’d swallowed a tooth when it came dislodged, along with enough blood to make him choke and cough, only to start biting his long serpent tongue on the new sharper teeth that had pushed through his gums.

As if to mock him, the serum had also resulted in long misshapen fins growing from Martin’s head, back, arms, and legs. They made it impossible to lie comfortably, robbing him of even more sleep. Martin had no chance of shrugging this off as a mere skin condition; anybody who saw him would know that he was some kind of freak of nature.

“You do look really feminine,” the doctor said one night, picking up the tray of stew. ‘’It’s to be expected, I suppose; that was the original intention of the serum. If I’m being honest, though, I prefer you this way. You would have done little to benefit the world as a mere wife or mother, and you certainly did not have the ambition to be more than that.”

“Turn me back.” It was hard to form words with the long, slender tongue. “I want to go back.”

“Marina, you’re smarter than that. There’s simply not enough of your original genetic code anymore, no way to reverse the transformation now that it’s done. I think you should still take  a few more doses to be safe, but I have to call this experiment a success.”

She closed the  door behind her, leaving Martin alone in total silence. After a while, it broke when he began to sob. Tears–water he could not afford to lose–ran down the sides of his face.

The curtains were closed, but enough sunlight seeped through to indicate hours were still passing. Very slowly, the light started to turn orange, then dim. Summer was in full swing now; Martin wanted nothing more than to feel the dry grass under his feet and the bright sun on his face.

He was just drifting off when the click of the doorknob drew his attention. Martin curled his hands into fists and struggled to raise them, rattling the chains just a tiny bit. The woman who stepped inside, though, was young with wide eyes and long free hair.

Pauletta!

She stepped into the room and stopped, eyes fixated on the bed where Martin lay. Pauletta covered her mouth, shaking in horror. Martin did his best to sit up and she turned to run.

“Pauletta!” he gasped, freezing her in place.

“How…? How do you know…? Martin? It can’t be you.”

He didn’t answer, merely turning his gaze away.

“Martin!”

She ran over and fell across him in a wet, sticky hug, exclaiming, “I’m so sorry! I came as soon as I could, but she wouldn’t let me in and I was scared to sneak in and it was hard to find an entrance and–”

The words ran out, so she started sobbing into his bare chest. Martin closed his stinging eyes as tears ran down his face. He tried to return the hug, but the chains held him back.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry. All I wanted was to be a woman, like you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought she could give me that, but she tricked me. That woman never saw me as anything more than a plaything!”

“Oh! Martin! You big dumb idiot! Why didn’t you come to me?” She rubbed her eyes with her arm to wipe away the tears, but her skin and clothes were covered in mucus. “I don’t know what I could have done, but I would have prayed for you to find help. I knew she couldn’t be trusted; I knew it as soon as I saw her eyes.”

She pulled herself off of Martin and grabbed at the chains binding his arms.

“I don’t know how to get these off.”

“She has the key, always on her.”

“I’m sorry, Martin. I can’t fight her, not alone. I have to get help.”

He nodded, and she gave him another hug.

“Whatever this is, we can fix this, I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can with the whole town if I need to. Just please, don’t give up hope.”

“I promise.”

She closed the door behind her. Martin continued to cry as her footsteps faded into nothing, then sniffled and gritted his teeth. Pauletta would save him, no matter what. He believed that.

He believed that.

He had to believe that.

What kind of life did Martin have outside of this room? There was no going back to the post office, and he dreaded the idea of walking down main street as a bestial creature in a prim and propper dress as if he were a real woman. How could the people who watched him with disdain when they thought him gay see him as anything more of a person now?

Perhaps, if Doctor Schuyler faced justice for what she did, that would be enough.

 

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Pauletta went straight to the sheriff to alert him that the doctor had kidnapped someone. He seemed alarmed until she mentioned Martin by name and his expression hardened. The sheriff told her that she must be imagining things, and when she said that she had been there and spoke to him, he warned her not to lie. The ooze she was drenched in did little to change his mind.

“Whatever those two are up to is none of our concern, little lady. If that woman wants to play doctor with the local dregs, that is up to her, but I’ll have none of this nonsense about kidnapping.”

“My friend is in danger! I’ve seen him with my own eyes. He is sick and needs our help!”

“He is probably ill because of his lifestyle. Does your father know about your relationship with this man? I think it would be better if you were to leave that house alone and avoid them altogether. The last thing we want is them passing on some kind of sickness to you, as well. For all our sakes, Miss Pauletta, seek a man worth pursuing instead. My own son is nearly of age–”

She left without waiting to hear more.

Pauletta went to her friends, but while they agreed Doctor Schuyler was creepy and probably secretly a pagan, they liked to talk about the idea of her kidnapping someone more than to believe it had actually happened. Martin’s boss, who had not seen him in weeks, dismissed him as a deserter and cheekily implied something about Martin coming to his end in a ditch. She went to the local surgeon, who dismissed the idea that “Doctor” Schuyler knew enough about medicine to do any real harm anyway, that her university must have simply humored her, and that not even Martin was so little of a man that he couldn’t easily overpower a hysterical woman; if he was at that house, it must be of his own free will.

The next day, in church, as her father was administering his sermon, Pauletta stood up and placed herself in front of the pulpit.

“Pauletta, sit down!” her father hissed, but she turned to address the assembled crowd.

“You need to believe me! I’ve tried to tell you all: that mad doctor has one of our own held prisoner! I know that none of you have seen Martin in over a month! I have! I went there and spoke to him in person! He is sick and desperate and I… I promised I would come back to save him!”

“Pauletta, that’s enough!” Her father stepped up and grabbed her by the arm. “You are making a fool of yourself and embarrassing me in my own church. I knew that man’s shameful behavior would rub off on you! I should have chased him out of town when I first realized what he was.”

“You’re wrong! He needs our help!” She tried to pull away, but he held her firm, face red. The audience before them looked away, unable to say anything. Pauletta pleaded, “I know that none of you trust this woman doctor. Ever since she turned up, drooling money and acting better than all of us because of her education, you’ve done nothing but sneer and gossip and wonder about her vices! Well, you were right! She’s dangerous and she’s hurting one of our own! If we love Martin as a neighbor, we must help him as we would ourselves!”

“She’s not right in the head,” someone said, standing up. Pauletta’s heart sank until he continued, “The doctor woman, I mean. She looks at all of us like we’re dung on her shoe. Nobody trustworthy has that look in their eyes.”

“It’s not right for a woman to want that kind of power,” a young mother said, clutching her baby tight to her chest. “The idea of my daughter growing up and seeing that behavior as anything but abhorrent terrifies me, and I don’t want our children to see this kind of example in our town!”

Ormand pushed Pauletta behind him, telling the crowd, “That’s enough,” but they were all muttering among themselves now.

“She keeps getting these heavy packages, too,” the postmaster said. “I looked inside one of them once and it was all sorts of strange tools I’d never seen. Looked like something from a demonic ritual.”

“That must be it! She’s responsible for the drought! It’s because of her our prayers haven’t been answered!”

“That woman defies the natural order, and now she’s kidnapping folk! How long before it’s a neighbor or one of our children?!”

“Enough!” Ormand cried, letting go of Pauletta. He was breathing heavily, his expression giving way to panic.

Pauletta ran for the doors, pushing them open and spinning around to cry, “I am going to save my friend! I can’t stop her alone!”

People stood and a crowd started flowing through the doors before dispersing. Some ran home to grab tools: knives and picks and whatever farming tools they and their neighbors had lying around. There was a fervent heat in midsummer air despite the afternoon giving way to evening. As Pauletta trudged up the hill, more and more people fell in line behind her.

 

---

 

Martin was too sluggish to put up a fight when Doctor Schuyler finally unlocked the shackles binding him to the bed. His head was swimming from whatever she’d injected him with, but not much. If he struggled as hard as he could, Martin might be able to fight back against her pushing him toward the stairs.

But it didn’t matter; where would he go? Pauletta hadn’t returned like she said she would because people didn’t care about him. Martin knew that, but had let her get his hopes up anyway. All he wanted to do was cry.

“The dull eyes of a broken animal,” the doctor said. “Do try to look at least a little alive for my guest.” When they entered the foyer, she declared, “Here it is! My grand achievement!”

A man in a brown suit was waiting for them.

Martin kept his gaze down, so couldn’t see the stranger’s face as he replied, “My God, what an abomination. You created this, Doctor?”

“I did! It is hardly an abomination, sir. This creature represents the most cutting edge research in the world today. It will change the face of the scientific community, but more importantly, this technology is going to bring us back to being the foremost superpower in the world! A fleet of piscine soldiers, a brigade of lupine scouts, spies with the ability to blend into any environment like an octopus or stick to walls as a spider! Our neighbors will revere and fear us once again!”

This notion gave the stranger pause, and though he remained skeptical his questions turned to logistics rather than morality. Martin let their words turn into a background drone, content to remain trapped in his head. If fortune smiled on him, he’d be allowed to die so they could dissect him. An undignified end for a tortured soul who just wanted to be free, but at least an end.

A loud bang at the door caught them all off-guard and Martin’s head snapped up. Doctor Schuyler clearly wasn’t expecting anyone, and the strange man looked annoyed. The doctor ran over to the door and opened it just a peep before slamming it shut and pressing all her weight against it.

It was no use. She was sent flying as the door burst open and townsfolk swarmed the foyer. Martin’s heart leapt to see Pauletta at the front of the pack. The man in the brown suit stepped off to the side, doing his best to remain inconspicuous.

“Martin!”

Pauletta started toward him, but Doctor Schuyler maneuvered herself between them.

“By God, what is that thing?!”

“It’s unholy!”

“A demon! It must be a demon!”

Ormand ran forward and grabbed Pauletta by the arm, trying fruitlessly to pull her back.

“That’s Martin!” Pauletta cried. “Look at what this madwoman has done to him! What she’ll do to us all if we give her the chance!”

Martin was breathing heavily. Everyone was staring at him, but he was staring at the doctor. Her eyes darted in all directions, her own breathing shallow as she desperately calculated how to respond to this.

“Grab her!” Pauletta cried. “We have to help him! She can’t get away with this!”

“The poor lady is confused.”

Pauletta growled, but Doctor Schuyler continued calmly, “What I’m doing is unorthodox, to be sure, but it is erroneous to say that I am forcing anything on anyone. Martin volunteered to be a test subject for my work out of a desire to contribute to something greater than himself. He knows as well as anyone that he struggles to be a productive member of society.”

“Liar!” Martin rasped, clear-headed enough to speak but too weak to make himself heard.

“The procedure has left him a little disoriented with brain fever for the moment, as we feared it might, and his word can’t be trusted right now. He has been enthusiastic about supporting me, though, especially when I mentioned showing the results to our friend here.” She nodded at the stranger, who remained expressionless. “If our success here brings in government funding, possibly even a few additional hands to work on the project, the economic situation of Anders Island could be completely turned around.”

“She’s lying!” Pauletta cried, drowned out by the murmurings of the crowd.

While Pauletta babbled, people started looking toward Ormand, who still had a vice grip on his daughter’s arm. He was staring at Martin, mouth slightly agape as his mind went into overdrive. Martin’s heart beat heavily in his chest.

Slowly, Ormand said, “The will of God is great and mysterious indeed. It was He that brought this woman here to make a dutiful citizen of this misguided young man, to turn our town’s sin into prosperity. We would be damned to interfere in His will.”

Martin released a breath, surprised that he wasn’t as devastated as he wanted to be. Perhaps it was too obvious an outcome to have hoped for more. Some folks seemed unsatisfied with Ormand’s response but began milling toward the door anyway. Pauletta screamed but her father yanked her away.

“That was exceptional,” the stranger in a brown suit said, walking up to Doctor Schuyler. “With wit like that, you certainly have a future should this project be successful. I will give a glowing recommendation to my superiors.”

“You have my deepest gratitude,” the doctor replied, pulling a syringe from her belt. “I will eagerly await further correspondence.”

Martin watched, helpless, as Pauletta was dragged out the front door by her father. Doctor Schuyler stepped in front of him and raised the syringe. His heart beat, his hand twitched, and Martin’s eyes grew wide as he snarled.

The doctor screamed and fell back when Martin’s claws ripped through her blouse. A spatter of blood flew. The stranger raised his hands to grab Martin, but Martin threw him back against a credenza, where he doubled over and fell to the ground, lying still. Martin barrelled over the doctor’s body and toward the door while she screamed vulgarities and clutched at her chest.

As soon as he was out the door into the late evening, the migrating crowd screamed and dispersed. He ran through the herd, stopping to look around for Pauletta but not seeing her before people began to pelt him with rocks. Martin did his best to cry out for her, but his voice was still gone, and when a stone hit him in the eye he was forced to keep running.

He couldn’t go home; they would check there first. Martin ran for the church, making it before the crowd had fully reached town. Stopping to catch his breath, Martin collapsed before the podium and started to sob.

“God, please. I’m sorry.”

Night brought darkness to the church. Through the walls, Martin could hear angry cries; flickers of light accompanied any that got close. Martin stayed still. Whatever rage had fueled his escape had dwindled to nothing. There was nowhere to go but deeper into the island or possibly beneath the waves.

The voices got close once again, the firelight brighter than before. They were shouting in a frenzy. Martin turned to face the door, breath caught in his throat, and climbed to his feet. A nearby window shattered when a rock sailed through. Martin cried out in alarm, which was met by louder shouting outside.

Martin ran and slammed his body against the door, but it wouldn’t yield. It was hot to the touch! He pulled back and hissed in alarm. Through the open window, he could see flames climbing up the side of the building. His breathing grew quick and shallow.

There had to be a back door! In their madness, they wouldn’t have thought to block it! It was Martin’s only hope. He burst through door after door as more windows blew inward and rained glass across the pews. Finally, he threw himself out one door into the orange of the night.

He ran, outraged cries all around him, into the darkest alley he could find. People were scrambling, panicked horses yanked flaming carriages through the streets. Embers flew everywhere and caught the wood facades of nearby buildings. While he ran, Martin saw one building begin to burn, then another.

It had not rained in weeks.

There were no more dark alleys. Martin curled up against the stone wall of the courthouse and heaved, desperate for any water at all. People had started to flee the town in their panic, so Martin trudged out into the street, fully illuminated by the blaze all around him. He had to find Pauletta, had to make sure she was safe.

If Ormand hadn’t taken her to the church, he must have taken her home.

The air was hazy and hard to breathe. Martin forced one foot in front of the other, struggling to stay fully upright. He was so warm. His skin was dry. When he swallowed, there was no moisture in his throat.

It was easier to run once Martin was out of the town proper, the island illuminated by the orange glow behind him. It was too dark to see Pauletta’s home, but there was a bright yellow speck in its general direction. His heart sank as Martin took off running, muscles screaming in protest as he wobbled on his feet.

The stone exterior of the house had spared it the worst of the flames so far, but Martin could see the flickering of flames through the foggy windows. He screamed and slammed into the front door, only to find it locked. Martin cried out for Pauletta, hammering his shoulder against the heavy wood until it cracked.

With one final bash and a painful crack in his shoulder, Martin was inside.

“Pauletta!”

It was so hot inside, smoke everywhere, practically unrecognizable as a place Martin had been in before. Covering his mouth, Martin walked from room to room, bleary-eyed, desperate for any sign of his best friend.

“Pauletta!” he wheezed.

“Martin?! Martin!”

Her voice was coming from the tea room. Martin couldn’t even see in there through the flames. Ducking his head and closing his eyes, he ran into the wall of fire. A thousand daggers slammed into him, then his foot caught something and he fell forward.

“Martin!”

Pauletta was curled into a corner, covered in soot and breathing heavily. Her eyes were unfocused, her whole body limp. Martin forced himself to his feet, but his whole body stung.

“I’m comi–!”

With a loud crack, the ceiling above them tumbled down. Martin leapt forward, but a large beam landed right on Pauletta’s head, causing her to shriek and flail. He yanked the beam off of her and pressed her to his chest while she wailed and sobbed, brought back to life by the agony. She felt so small against him.

Going back through the fire was not an option. Martin was swaying on his feet as his vision grew unfocused. He coughed, chest tight, then threw all his weight against the nearby window and felt his skin melt against it before falling through the shattering glass. An inhuman yelp escaped him when he hit the ground and the debris bit into him.

Getting away from the house was more of a crawl than anything else, but when they were away from the flames, Martin laid Pauletta down. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. Half of her face was red, blistered, and bleeding. The skin around her eye had melted, and the eye itself was red and foggy.

“Pauletta…”

“Let her go.”

Martin turned around to see Ormand wielding a large harvesting hook at him.

“Let my daughter go,” he said. His eyes were wide, and his rises were pinpricks. “Let her go and pay for what you’ve done to this town. In the name of God, I will strike you down.”

Instead, Martin stood and placed himself between Ormand and Pauletta.

Ormand cried out and charged at Martin, knocking him off of his feet and to the ground before jamming the hook into his shoulder. Martin hissed in pain as blood spewed from the wound and started clawing at Ormand’s face. Each of them screamed and Ormand yanked the hook from Martin’s shoulder before bringing it down again into his arm.

Something hit Ormand in the head and he went limp, collapsing onto Martin. Pauletta stood over him with a distant look in her eye and holding a large bloody rock. Martin scrambled out from underneath the pastor, one arm completely motionless. Before he could say anything else, though, Pauletta fell onto Ormand and brought the rock down again and again and again, crying out in hurt and frustration until the skull audibly cracked and started to deform.

Martin thought she would cry, but when she dropped the rock, Pauletta remained completely stone-faced. She got to her feet and took Martin by the good hand, pulling him up. Pauletta stared down at her feet as if she expected to be scolded.

“I have to go,” Martin rasped. “Please come with me.”

She nodded, and Martin took her by the hand.

The docks were far enough from the town proper to have escaped the blaze, though near enough that it was fully illuminated by the flames. Martin’s wounds had stopped bleeding and he could curl his fingers a little, but he felt confident in saying he now had a bad arm. Once or twice, the idea even made him chuckle.

This night had been a little out of the ordinary.

They weren’t far from the mainland. Martin had Pauletta stand out of the way while he entered the boathouse and grabbed the largest boat he could pull one-handed. Pauletta stood silently and watched for the better part of an hour as Martin managed to rig together a sail and grabbed some oars for them.

“I think it’s almost ready. I just need–”

Martin turned around to see an arm wrapped around Pauletta’s neck and a vial held up beside her. Doctor Schuyler’s eyes burned more intensely than the rising flames that backlit her silhouette. She was covered in blood and growling like a dog.

“This injection will kill her long before you can figure out what to do about it,” she snarled. “You killed my contact, so I have no qualms about killing your little girlfriend. Come quietly. This can still be fixed. All this damage you did to my reputation can still be repaired.”

“Go,” Pauletta tried to say, but the doctor tightened her grip. “Go! I don’t deserve to live after what I’ve done!”

Martin curled his good hand into a fist and closed his eyes. Life as a prisoner or life without his best friend, after all this? Was he deserving of this kind of punishment?

“I’ll sweeten the deal for you. You can keep this girl here as a playmate if you cooperate. I do need more test subjects, after all.”

Martin’s eyes snapped open.

“Fine. Let her go.”

“No!”

Doctor Schuyler walked forward, dragging Pauletta with her, and held up the injection for Martin to take. He did so, fitting his clawed fingers into the hoops of the syringe. The doctor took a few steps back, nodding as he placed the needle on his arm.

“Martin!” Pauletta gasped, close to tears.

There was a pinch as the needle went in and Martin pressed the plunger down as quickly as possible before pulling it out. Grinning, Doctor Schuyler threw Pauletta to the ground and walked up to place her hands on Martin’s shoulder. Already, Martin’s vision was swimming.

“Good, now–”

A snake might envy the speed at which Martin lashed forward and wrapped his jaws around Glory Schuyler’s neck. He couldn’t see her eyes but heard the faintest gasp before he crunched down as hard as he could. The doctor’s breathing turned to gargles as the taste of copper flooded Martin’s senses and he pulled his teeth from her soft flesh.

He should have had a reaction, but it was getting hard to feel anything. Martin’s breathing was slow. There was nothing he wanted to do more than close his eyes and get some sleep. His legs fell out from beneath him and Martin hit the ground hard.

It took a moment to realize he was being dragged somewhere, and as he faded in and out of consciousness, Martin became aware of the rocking of a boat.

“We’re on our way, Martin,” Pauletta’s distant voice assured him.

“...Marina. Call me Marina.”

 

---

 

Pauletta’s face never fully recovered, but that hadn’t stopped her from finding a good, handsome husband with a manor near the rocky shore. Living on the mainland had been a major adjustment that took some years to get used to. They traveled often, and Pauletta’s unusual financial situation combined with her facial scars made her quite the topic of rumors and gossip. She didn’t care as long as Donald treated her with love and respect; if she were to allow herself a smidge of vanity, Pauletta would say that she actually enjoyed the attention.

This morning, she dressed in trousers and practical boots before coming down to the dining room.

“Good morning, darling,” Donald said, standing up from his seat at the head of the table to give her a kiss. “Say hello to your sister for me.” Leaning in so the children wouldn’t hear, he whispered, “Will you ever let me in on the secrets surrounding her? Not that you don’t look good in men’s clothes, but I have no idea why it’s necessary, and my curiosity is insatiable.”

“Perhaps I will, if you ever develop a constitution for things that would drive a Godly man insane.”

“You lead quite a life.”

“Hopefully, my unholy adventures are behind me.” Turning to her son and daughter, she said, “Children, be good for your father today.”

In the carriage were two small boxes of books, a sealed box of letters, and several empty pots for plants. Instead of calling for the driver, Pauletta climbed right into the seat and grabbed the reins herself. It was better if nobody knew where she was going, for Marina’s sake.

The cave was far off the beaten path. Pauletta brought the carriage as close to the sandy shore as she possibly could, then grabbed one of the boxes to bring in with her. Finding the entrance to the cave was difficult for someone who didn’t already know it was there and required quite a bit of climbing over large rocks. Inside the mouth of the cave, Pauletta had to walk slowly though the darkness for a few seconds before spotting light up ahead.

Marina lived in a cavern primarily illuminated by candles but also a few small holes in the ceiling that let in daylight. There was a large pool of water in the center, and along the different elevations of stone Marina had scattered the furniture that Pauletta supplied her with. All it was missing was an organ and a music box to complete the atmosphere.

Pauletta brought the box over to Marina, who was scribbling furiously at her writing desk. Her dominant arm was still a little stiff even after all this time, but she had recovered far better than Pauletta. Her orange and white scales shimmered beautifully in the low light.

“Hi,” Marina said, setting her pen aside. “Good to see you.”

“Brought you those books I promised. Do you have anything for me?”

Marina opened a drawer and pulled out a large envelope.

“Fresh poems of the sea,” she said. “Dark and stormy and terrible. Did I get any fanmail?”

“There’s a box in the carriage.” She sat down on the desk and said, “I hope you don’t mind–I read a bit of it. People are really drawn to the dark tone and imagery. What, pray tell, inspires you to write about such horrible things?”

Marina chuckled, admitting, “My travels. I’ve been exploring the oceans, farther down than any man may go, and I see things. Fish larger than boats, sunken cities of marble, ancient sleeping monsters that challenge the divinity of God.”

Pauletta slapped her on the shoulder. “Don’t say things like that! It’s not true! You don’t really see things like that, do you?”

Marina smirked, but didn’t answer.

When the day grew long, Pauletta had to begin the trip home. She shared a long hug with Marina and promised to see her again soon. Theirs was a bond forged in the fires of Hell and blessed by God.