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Rated: 18+ · Novella · Dark · #1955901
It's the year 2050, and for some,modern medicine has taken a turn for worst...
Samuel sat uncomfortably in the hard, cold waiting room chair. His paperwork was in order, and now it was just a matter of going through with a very terrifying procedure. He looked at his sterile, white surroundings, wondering why they didn't make it just a little more comforting then this. People sat in here, after all, and worried about whether or not they had a future. You'd think that they would at least add a splash of color in here, or tree or a plant. Anything other then this sterile emptiness.

"Mr. Clemmons?" a nurse poked her head out of the door that led to the exam rooms. "Mr. Sammuel Clemmons?"

"Yes, yes, right here." Sam stood, gathered his paperwork, and followed the young nurse into the bowels of the clinic. She led him to room. 4, and asked him to take off everything except his sock and briefs. She laid a gown on the the examining table, and collected his paperwork.

"Doctor Ghazi will be in to see you shortly." she said, smiling. "Did you swallow the capsule before you came, Mr. Clemmons?"

"Yes, one hour ago, as instructed." he answered the nurse. "What was the capsule for?"

"Dr. Ghazi will explain everything to you." she said warmly, as she left the room.

He sighed. Undressing, the chill in the stark, white room making him breakout in goose flesh, he bent over to take off his shoes. A white hot pain shot through his head. It was so excruciating, he yelled out, collapsing onto the cold,tile floor. Holding his head in agony, he rocked back and forth, unable to even cry out for the nurse. His world turned black....

********************************

His strong fingers held a strand of her long, blonde hair in his hands. She fought hard, this one. He admired her tenacity and wished that they all fought so valiantly. He'd watched her for a while. A waitress, she worked the night shift at Shorty's, a greasy diner over on the corner of North Main and Forbes St. He watched as she flirted shamelessly with with the truckers that frequented the joint, her cleavage threatening to break free from their constraints. They laughed and smacked her ass as she giggled and hinted of pleasures that only she could give. More then once, he saw her leave with one of them, coming back minutes later with a cleavage full of bills and swollen, red lips.
He'd put an end to her miserable life, helping her find Nirvana in death. He felt her spirit enter him in the last moments of her struggle, filling him with ethereal power. He'd slit her mouth in the corners to give her an eternal smile, and to make sure that she changed her ways in the afterlife, he cut out her eyes so that she would never see herself and remember who she was. Her breasts were removed so that never again would she see herself to be womanly or desired. He placed her hands over her breastless chest, and tied her legs closed, never to open for any man again. His work here was finished. When they found her, like all the others, they would have no clue, no idea. He was good at what he did, and he loved it. Ridding the world of evil was his destiny, and not God nor man could stand in his way. He left through the back door, take pains to see that his gloved hands touched nothing. Heading out for the street, he gave the house one more look, backing up so he could see her room. It gave him power to know that he was the only one who knew what lay inside of that upstairs window. He stepped off of the curb, never seeing or hearing the bus. Witnesses said that his body flew almost 15 feet before slamming down on the unmoving, unforgiving pavement.

***************************************************

"Nurse! Start an IV, STAT!" Dr. Ghazi barked out orders to the attending nurses, "Where's that IV bag of Sodium pentathol and Propofol! I wanted that yesterday!"

He turned to the attending physician assisting him with surgery. "Has the brain arrived Dr. Singh?"

"Yes, about 2 minutes ago. It's all set." Dr. Singh replied.

Dr. Singh was excited. This was his first brain transplant. He was chosen out of a class of 15 second year residents to attend this surgery, so he was extremely privileged. Dr. Ghazi was as brilliant and adept as a Neurosurgeon as everyone professed. More lives then he could count have been saved by the great Dr.Ghazi's innovative neuro-surgery. Experimenting first with monkeys, he then moved on to a human volunteer who was in the terminal stage of brain cancer.
This tumor, in Mr. Clemmon's head, was the size of a softball, buried deep with the thalamus. Because of it's location, not only did it affect the patient's motor sensory skills, it was inoperative.The transplant was Mr. Clemmon's only chance to survive. Dr. Ghazi's first transplant procedure was a woman who died from breast cancer. Those present, told of the miracle he performed on that day. The very first successful brain transplant. Now, there were clinics all over the world performing this amazing operation, saving countless millions, and Dr. Singh was a part of it.

The patient, Samuel E. Clemmons, was a 40 yr. old male, in relatively good health. He had signed all the necessary paperwork, including relieving the attending doctors of any responsibility towards accidental death or fatal rejection of the new brain. The waiting list was long, but but it usually wasn't a concern. It was mandatory now in the US to donate your brain for medical purposes, according to the new bill signed by the president. There was hardly ever a shortage of healthy brains. Mr. Clemmons donor was fresh. So fresh, in fact, that they still hadn't located or told the family.
All they knew was that an unfortunate young man stepped in front of a bus, instantly killed. Amazingingly, there was no damage to the skull. But curiously, he had a collection of a very special set of knives on his person. German autopsy dissecting knives, all in a special case. There were police detectives and investigators all over the place, with the brain donor being the main suspect in a series of murders in the city. The dissecting knives were what tipped them off. According to the chief investigator of the case, all 7 women were cut with meticulously precise incisions. Especially around the genitalia, mouth and breasts. All 7 women had their eyes either eviscerated or complete enucleation, and where he kept the parts was anyone's guess. The dissection knives matched the injuries on the women perfectly.They had their man.

Samuel woke in agony. His head felt like it was caught in a bear trap. He tried to swallow, but his throat, too, was very painful, feeling like razor blades were sliding down. He felt around for his call light and summoned a nurse.

Immediately one popped her head in his room. "Mr. Clemmons! Your awake! I didn't expect you to wake up for another hour or so."

"Call me Sam, " he croaked painfully. "Water, please, and something for pain."

"Yes to the pain meds, no to the water, sorry. " she apologized. "you can have ice chips, but nothing in your belly right now." She walked around his bed and checked his vitals, and then the output in his catheter. All looked normal.

"Ok, anything, please, hurry. I can't bear it." he begged her.

She left the room and came back swiftly, having prepared a shot of Demerol. First, she gave a him a cup of ice chips, and let him put a few in his mouth, instructing him to roll over on his side.
Flicking the needle to remove any air bubbles, she pulled his gown away from the fatty part of his butt, wiped area with an alcohol pad, and with a practiced movement, plunged the needle intra-muscularly, injecting the Demerol.

"Oh my God, that burns!' he yelled. "What the hell did you put in there, anyway, lady, Draino? Christ!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Clemmons, " she apologized." I should have warned you about the burning sensation."

"Yeah, I'll say, thank's a lot. And call me Sam, would'ya?" he told her."If your going to kill me with pain killers, you could at least call me by my first name."

The medicine was all ready making him feel a little woozy and loopy.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, "I need to get me a whole bottle of that stuff!"

She laughed at that, and patted his hand. "You and me both, buddy. How do you feel, other then a great big headache?"

"Well, I seem to feel ok, but when is the Dr. coming to see me? When can I go home?"

"Well, he's in surgery right now, but he promised he would stop in to see you right after. Do you have any questions about your aftercare instructions?" she asked him. But when she turned around from checking his IV fluids, he was sound asleep. She smiled. Poor guy. I sure as hell don't envy him right now.

The girl was beautiful in her terror. Blonde hair, darkened with sweat and tears, eyes wide and pleading. They ALL plead for their miserable lives. He'd watched her for about three day's, in a greasy, little hole in the wall called Shorty's. Her outfit was unacceptable, worn to attract the kind of men that leered and groped at her as she waited on them. She made sure that she leaned over to give them a view of her ample bust, and as she turned away, she swung her hips provocatively, suggesting what they could have if they wanted it. If they paid enough. Twice now, she'd left with a customer, coming back with swollen lips and her hair out place. Eyes shining as she counted out the bills she'd tucked into her cleavage. He wanted to vomit at the sickness of it all. Now here she lay, hands bound above her head, feet shackled. "Please," she begged. "I have money, I can pay you. Don't do this...oh, please don't do this. I won't tell. I promise, just let me go!" They all said the same thing, like it was money he needed. They usually lost it when they spied the jars he kept on the shelves nearby. Jars held his most valued treasures. He called them his "sin makers". He collected the eyes of the vain, so never again could they look upon themselves or others with lust. He also kept their breasts, so neither here nor in the afterlife would they be seen as womanly or motherly. And his most prized possessions of all...the part of a woman most sought after, least known about, that special place buried within the heat and heart of her womanhood. Her secret place of sins and lust.
This one needed to be taught a lesson. He saw the way she looked at him, with hunger and madness in her eyes. Her lips, glistening, beckoning him with promises. The Eve of his nightmares.He picked up his scalpel, the one his grandfather used in Auschwitz. Oh, his grandfather was a master at what he did, of that he had no doubt. Everyone knew his name. His middle name, Josef, was tribute to him. His last name was changed years ago to Mangella, to save him from any prosecution.
The blade glimmered under the old operating light. He brought down, and worked to the music of her screams....

Samuel Clemmon's woke screaming. His pillow, wet with his sweat and tears. What the hell was that dream all about, he kept thinking. Pressing his call light, he sat up on the edge of the bed and waited for the dizzyiness to pass. Looking up at the clock, he saw it was 7 am. He'd slept for 5 hours. His headache was gone, but the dream lingered, troubling him.

The morning nurse, Karin, came and saw him sitting. "Mr. Clemmons! Your up! My my name is Karin, and I'm your nurse today. Can I get you anything?"

"Yes, I want to see Dr. Ghazi this morning, please." he told her, "I've been having the most horrible nightmares. They're terrible. Awful. I can't even talk about them, they're so bad."

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry to hear this. Yes, I'll try to locate him immediately and see if perhaps he could prescribe you something for that. Other then the nightmares, do you think you could eat a solid meal today? If so, he may just send you home by this afternoon, what do you think about that?" she said.

"But, I haven't even seen him yet, and he's already planning my release?" Sam complained, "Don't get me wrong, I mean, I want to go home, it just seems a little unusual seeing the type of surgery I've just had. Don't you agree?"

"You have to understand, Mr. Clemmons," she explained, "brain transplants nowadays aren't like they were 50 years ago. The insurance companies know this and they are not willing to pay for a patient any more then two or three days. Crazy, I know, but there's nothing we can do about it."

"Hmmph, I wonder if the same would be true for the ones who made these rules." Samuel said resentfully.

"I totally agree, Mr.Clemmons, I do. Now, how about that breakfast." she said, smiling.

Dr. Ghazi walked in just as Samuel was finishing up breakfast. Two pieces of french toast, a boiled egg, toast and two glasses of orange juice. Funny, though, he never even liked orange juice before. Ever. But seeing how thirsty he was, he drank it, and couldn't believe how good it was!
"Ah, Mr. Clemmons! And how are you this fine morning. You've eaten! Good sign!" Dr. Ghazi said brightly."Did your stomach take it well? No pain or nausea?"

"No, Dr. no pain or nausea. Just some very disturbing nightmares. Is this normal?" he asked.

"Oh, indeed. I would actually be very surprised if you told me you me you di​dn't have them. See, your brain is what we like to call 'rebooting' itself. The pill you swallowed, Mr. Clemmons, was actually nano bytes. They are attaching to the temperal lobe and providing it with all the information which is you, and delivering it to the Corpus Collosum, which stores it for you. It's an amazing procedure." he explained."My own 'brain' child, if you'll excuse the pun."

"When will I be able to go home?" Samuel asked. "The nurse, Karin, she told me that If I was able to keep down solids, there might be a possibility it might be this afternoon."

"You've recovered remarkably, Mr. Clemmons," he answered, "I believe it's a great possibility."

"Call me Sam, Dr., please." asked Samuel. "I feel fine, I think I'd really do better in my own space, if you don't mind. I miss my dog. My sister has him for now. I was given a LifeLine service before I came in here, and if there was a problem, I just press a button."

"Ok, Sam, I think your probably right, and have the nurse get your discharge papers ready." Dr. Ilhad agreed. "But, you must promise me no heavy lifting, no errands, just complete rest until our next visit which will next Wed., I believe. Deal?"

"It's a deal, Doc. I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. No words could even come close." Samuel told him, holding out his hand.

"My pleasure, Sam, my please.' he told Samuel, and shook his hand. "I'll see you next week."

********************************************

His sister, Serena was waiting for him outside with the car, along with Luther, his Yellow Lab. Luther was his best friend, companion and watch dog all in one. Six years old, and he still had the energy of a puppy. When he saw Samuel coming, you would have thought the Lord Jesus had come back the way he carried on. He laughed and got in the car.

"Hey, sis!" he greeted her, " and how's my favorite sister today?"

"Your still you, that's for sure, Samuel" she laughed. "I'm so glad your ok. I came up to see you yesterday, but they said you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you up. How do you feel? Any different?"
"No, not really. I had a raging headache yesterday, but it's gone, and I even ate today." he told her.
Luther's tail was pounding the back seat with happiness. He whined and snuffled in Sam's ear, swiping his face with his big, flat tongue.

Sam laughed, "I know, I know, buddy, I missed you too, you big dummy." He rubbed his belly affectionately. "And mom and dad? How are they now, any better?"

Sam and Serena's parents were still of the mind that a brain transplant meant the person coming out of the hospital was NOT going to be their son. He was going to LOOK like their son, talk and walk like their son, but ultimately,he would be someone else.

"Sam, you know how they are," she apologized for them, "there just, you know, mom and dad."

"Yeah, I know. It's just..." he let the sentence trail off.

"It's ok, Sam, I know. I guess it's just the way it is. Ya know?" she explained. "We have dinosaurs for parents. I still remember the look on their face when you told them about the operation. Oh my God. If mom's mouth dropped any farther...."

Sam chuckled at that. He got a mental image of his mother with her mouth open. "Yeah, and remember dad?" they both laughed, replaying the scene in their heads. "He sat down so hard on the recliner, it tipped over.!" Serena, laughing, had to serve to miss a car that was slowing down.

"Whoa! Ok, let's stop before you kill me before the doctors do!" Sam laughed.

"So what now, Sam?" His sister asked seriously.

"Well, I can't go back to work for a few months, that's for sure. I guess for now I'll cash in some of the CD's mom and dad got for us years ago. At least they'll get me through till the disability kicks in."

They pulled in front of his small, studio apartment. "Ok, here we are, Luther."he announced."'rena, thank you for taking him. I appreciate it." He hugged her tightly.

"You SURE you don't want me to help for a couple of days?" she asked her brother.

"You've done enough, I'll be fine." he told her. "Just call mom and dad for me. Try to reassure them that I'm still me." She smiled and nodded her head. "Love ya little brother."

Samuel went in inside of his 2 bedroom duplex apartment. He loved his apartment. Set right in the heart of of the city,affordable, AND they let him keep Luther. It was only a hop and a skip from his job, too. He put his hospital bag on the bed. He was already a little dizzy from being upright for so long, and decided that a movie night would be just perfect right now. He felt a little headache coming on, and before it could bloom into a migraine, he went into his bathroom to get some something for pain He loved his bathroom. It had a great masculine look to it, with it's black and orange tiled floor. The walls, tiled in black, were brought out by the beautiful shower curtain, which pictured a flaming orange sunset. He went to the sink to wash and brush, and looked up at the mirror. What he saw there made him cry out in disbelief and horror. It was not his face looking back at him. He pinwheeled backwards, losing his balance, landing on his butt near the claw footed tub. This wasn't happening. He was having hallucinations, right? Getting up slowly, afraid to look, he walked cautiously to the mirror again. He looked. Looking back at him was....himself. He sighed with relief. He must be still feeling the effects of the anesthesia. That had to be it.

He finished his toiletries and wandered into the kitchen. If he was going to have a movie night, food was in order. Luther padded behind him, ever his shadow, his ears pricked in interest when Samuel opened the fridge. That wonderful place where food came from. Sam was elated when he opened the fridge and saw that his sister had replenished his food supply with all the things he loved. Pickled sausages, vanilla yogurt, cheeseburgers, and his favoreite, pasta and meatballs. "I love you Serena!" he yelled into the empty kitchen. Luther barked in agreement. He decided on the pasta, and warmed it in the microwave. A dull throb started in back of his head, slowly working it's way up and around to the front, behind his eyes. He made his way to his favorite chair, a recliner that should have gone out with the trash years ago. He closed his eyes as the pain deepened. He was getting a little nervous. The pasta and meatballs didn't look so appetizing anymore. As he stared at the red sauce, and chunks of meat, something was pushing from the back of his mind, a vision of some sort. A white-hot searing pain ripped through his head causing him to drop the plate of food in his lap. Holding his head in pain, with visions of red sauce behind his eyes, he slipped into darkness...

***********************************************************

He watched as she sauntered over, lips wet and glistening, hips swaying gently. She leaned over just enough to let him get a glimpse of her ample cleavage as asked if he wanted coffee.
"No, orange juice, that's all." he answered curtly.

She frowned, straightened up, and with backwards glance, she hurried away. There were other customers to wait on.

The man watched her sashay away, and approach the new customers, two burly truck drivers that she obviously knew. Her high, lilting laughter grated on his last nerve, and when one of the truckers smacked her on the ass, his blood boiled when she winked at him. He watched her return with his orange juice, still flirting with the truckers as she glanced behind her. He drank it in one huge gulp, threw a dollar on the table and headed for the door.
He went to his car under the streetlight and watched her from inside. Her shift was almost over. He knew what he had to do. It was almost closing time.

When she came out, she saw him by his back tire, looking like he had a flat. Walking over, she asked him if he needed a hand.

"Uh, yeah, that would be great. I think I lost the cap to my air plug on the tire, can you see if you can see it on the ground somewhere? I left my glasses at home." he told her.

"Sure sweetie," she answered, "but maybe you can be a little bit nicer when you come in."
She bent over near him and looked for the cap, and immediately felt something foul smelling cover her mouth and nose, muffling her screams.
"Don't worry, whore, your problems will soon be over." he said softly into her ear as she spiraled down into darkness
.

Sam opened his eyes and moaned. His head pounded and from sleeping upright, his neck ached with every movement. What the hell just happened here? Why was he having dreams like this? Sitting up and leaning forward, he put his head in his hands. What was he doing? He knew he was getting ready to eat, and the food was all over his chair and lap. What fell on the floor was eaten by the dog. Speaking of that damn dog, where was he? He moved slowly, standing with caution. His head pounded.

"Luther!' he called. "Come here, boy!" Luther came out of the bedroom slowly, and whined. His tail, usually wagging a mile a minute, was tucked up between his legs. He walked slowly up to Samuel, head down, softly growling deep in his throat.

"What the hell's wrong with you!", he said, "Go on, get out of here!' He swung his foot at Luther, just barely missing his ribs. Jesus, his head hurt. Luther, whined, and walked despondently away, not understanding the change is his beloved master and companion. This wasn't the person who left and come back, this person was a stranger to Luther. Oh, he still had the same face and voice, but there was something under the voice that made him afraid. Something dark, and feral, seething with a need that was both evil and threatening. He ran to his bed in back of the couch.

The headache was becoming increasingly worse, creeping into the very depths of his brain. He swallowed more painkillers, and decided to lay down for awhile until they kicked in. He remembered kicking at Luther, and couldn't believe he'd done it. He loved that dog! Eyes closed, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

The waitress from Shorty's stared up him in sheer terror. Quite a change from the seductive glances and lustful undertones. He was pleased. Tears ran down her cheeks, splashing down on the cold, metal examining table she lay on. Feet and hands bounds, and mouth gagged, she only watch as he stared at her. He ripped off the gag, and grabbed her face between his fingers, squeezing her mouth into an o.
"Slut, whore.." he said, looking into her eyes. "Your cleansing will begin soon, Jezabelle, and no longer will tempt men with your body. No longer will your eyes hunger and burn with need, Daughter of Eve, for if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out! I am your God now!"

She shrieked and struggled to get out of her restraints and away from this madman. "What do want from me? Let me go! Please, let me go!' she begged him."

"Please, oh please don't hurt me" he mocked. "SHUT UP! You worthless whore." He picked up his favorite scalpel, holding it up to the light. At the sight of the gleaming blade, the woman losing all hope, screamed from the very depths of her soul. He brought the blade down....


Samuel woke feeling refreshed. The dream forgotten, his headache gone. Time to get out of this dump for awhile, he thought. He went into the bathroom and washed his face, looking into the mirror. Yes, this was more like it. His hair, though, why was it shaved off? He walked out to the living room, grabbing a hat, and saw a dog peeking out from behind the couch. He didn't remember getting a dog, he hated dogs. "I'll deal with you later, mutt." he warned the trembling animal. He needed to change a lot of things around here, he thought, but first, there was a pretty little waitress at Shorty's Diner that needed his attention....
© Copyright 2013 Riss Ryker (rissryker518 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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