The Jewish Book of Horror by Josh Schlossberg

Author:Josh Schlossberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror Fiction
Publisher: Denver Horror Collective
Published: 2021-09-23T22:34:28+00:00

Aaron carried the box into the house, careful to not rip the plastic sheeting covering the floor. Harold had been gone for almost two months, but Aaron still thought of it as his place. Hidden in the woods, the old brick house was minutes from the free clinic on the city’s North Side. Unlike most of Aaron’s patients at the clinic, Harold had his own home and had been relatively stable on his schizophrenia medications for almost twenty years. The fact that Harold was a bit of hermit only made the house more attractive.

The instruments inside the box clattered as Aaron set it down near the stainless-steel table in the middle of the room. Threadbare furniture held the edges of the clear plastic covering the floor in place. A chest freezer dominated the far corner, small red coolers lined up nearby.

Aaron unpacked the box, carefully adjusted the two portable overhead lights, and moved a few small stands around the central table. He turned and opened the door to the darkened kitchen, a wide channel of light shining on the man strapped to a chair in the middle of the room. Ricky Finch snored lightly, a thin line of drool running from his bottom lip.

A trucker had dropped Ricky off at the clinic with a nasty case of frostbite. The twenty-five-year-old tried to hitchhike from New York to Florida in February and suffered accordingly. While Aaron debrided Ricky’s frozen feet, he also ran a couple extra blood tests. A brief history and physical uncovered no other illnesses, except the one that left track marks running up his arms. Fortunately, Aaron’s selection criteria were much more liberal than if he were working for a hospital. Aaron added Ricky to his “special” patient list, and a hefty shot of morphine left the young man quiet and compliant until Aaron got him to the house.

After a short phone call with his contact confirming the pick-up, Aaron turned on the radio, scrubbed his hands in the kitchen basin sink, pulled on the surgical gloves, and set to work. He dragged the unconscious man into the living room, lugging Ricky onto the steel table and securing the restraints.

Pink Floyd echoed through the room as Aaron sliced into Ricky’s torso, cauterizing veins and arteries as he opened his abdomen. At the hospital, the operating suite was noisy with the cacophony of alarms and equipment, nurses asking questions, and the anesthesiologist barking out the patient status. But Aaron’s custom surgical suite in Harold’s living room was perfect. No alarms. No ventilator. No nurses. No anesthesiologist. There was no need when the patient was never intended to survive the surgery.

Aaron had learned a lot in the process of separating Harold from his organs. For that first harvest, he used a scalpel but created a mess when he rolled his patient off the table and into the body bag below. Blood had pooled in the abdomen and splashed across the floor when Aaron turned the body over. An inexpensive cautery pen he bought on Amazon simplified cleanup.

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