zombie. I can't simply sew his head back onto his neck and call it a day. I'm afraid it's going to be a bit more complicated than that.
He poked and prodded both sections of me some more, hmming and tsking as he worked. At one point he turned to Henry and asked, 'What do you think?'
Henry scowled in thought. 'Both sections are in a similar state of arrested decay. Typical of a zombie. Though the body's a bit worse off than the head. Probably because it's been inanimate for so long. Reconnection should be possible, if tricky.' He paused. 'If that's what Mr. Richter really wants.'
Now it was my turn to scowl. 'What do you mean?'
'We have all sorts of spare parts around here,' Baron began, but then he stopped and frowned. 'Speaking of which, I prefer to have a full complement of such when I operate, and none have been delivered yet. Henry, if you wouldn't mind? I seem to have forgotten my vox again.'
'I swear you'd forget your head if it wasn't attached.' Henry looked at me then. 'No offense,' he added before removing a hand vox from a robe pocket and turning away from the table to make a call.
'As I was saying,' Baron continued, 'I have numerous spare parts – including entire bodies. The mind, the personality, indeed the very self is contained solely within the brain, Mr. Richter. To put it simply you are your head and your body exists to move that head around. But you don't have to keep your old body if you don't want to. I can give you a new one: a living one.'
The idea stunned me. Ever since Papa Chatha had suggested that Baron might be able to help me, I'd been thinking only in terms of his reattaching my head to my body. It had never occurred to me that Baron might be able to do better than that.
Baron went on. 'Of course, there's no guarantee just how much physical perception your undead brain is capable of. You might not be able to experience the full range of physical sensations that a living body can. But then again, you might.' He smiled. 'In all modesty, I've been doing this for a very long time, and I've gotten awfully good at it.'
Henry put his vox away and returned to the table.
'They're on their way,' he said, and Baron nodded.
A living body… I'd long given up hope that I could ever be restored to life. There didn't seem to be any magic or science in Nekropolis capable of returning me to a fully human state. Even Father Dis had told me that it was beyond his capabilities. But now Baron was telling me he might be able to do it – if I was willing to let him experiment on me.
I looked at Devona, but before I could speak, she said, 'Why would Matt want a different body? The one he has works just fine.' Then she stopped and looked down at me. 'I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't speak for you. It's your decision, of course.'
If I'd been capable of doing so right then, I'd have taken Devona in my arms and kissed her.
I'd been dead for some time but I hadn't forgotten what it was like to have a body that could smell, taste and above all fully experience touch in all its forms. I've never told Devona but I sometimes have dreams in which I'm alive and do the most mundane things: drinking a soda, eating ice cream, inhaling the scent of autumn leaves, drying off after a long hot shower with a thick fuzzy towel. So I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted by Baron's offer. Tempted bad.
'Thanks anyway,' I said. 'But I'm happy enough the way I am. Besides, being a zombie detective is kind of my thing, you know? 'Zombie head on living body' detective just doesn't have the same ring to it.'
'As you wish,' Baron said. 'But if at some future date you change your mind, feel free to drop by. There's always a spare body or two lying around here.'
The lab doors opened then and a pair of men entered, one thin-faced like a weasel, the other with a round face sporting a pair of mutton chops. The men, who wore long black coats, caps and fingerless gloves, stood on either side of a large portable wheeled freezer, guiding it along by gripping handles bolted onto the sides.
'Where would you like it, Mr. Baron?' the round faced man said in an Irish accent.
'Over here close to the operating table, Burke. Within arm's reach.'
'Righto. Glad to be of service.'
The two men maneuvered the freezer close to the table, as Baron had asked. Now that the men were closer I could get a getter look at them and I saw that both had a bluish tint to their skin and thin scars around their throats and wrists. They appeared human enough, but it was obvious they'd had some work done by Baron.
The thin faced man spoke then, also in an Irish accent. 'Anything else we can do for you, sir?'
'No, thank you, Hare,' Baron said. 'I believe we're all set.'
'Best we be off then,' Burke said. 'Lot of work to be done.'
'No rest for the wicked, eh?' Hare said.
Both men laughed at that, tipped their caps to Baron, and then turned and left.
When they were gone Baron said, 'Two of our best Bonegetters. They have quite a knack for the work, don't they, Henry?'
'They're very reliable,' Henry said noncommittally.
Baron clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. 'Time to get to work then. Henry, if you'll help me get everything ready?'
'Of course,' Henry said, sounding as if he'd just as soon have a hydrochloric acid enema. He lurched off to one of the work tables and began gathering surgical tools.
'Would you like me to step outside?' Devona asked Baron.
Baron answered while he donned a pair of black rubber gloves that looked as if they could use a good disinfecting, or better yet, a thorough going over with a blow torch.
'There's no need, Ms. Kanti. Since Mr. Richter's already dead, there's no risk of infection to him, and as he cannot experience physical pain, there's no need for anesthetics, so he'll be conscious and awake during the procedure. You're welcome to stay, as long as it's all right with you, Mr. Richter.'
'Sure. Devona's seen me come apart before. She should get the chance to see me get put together for a change.'
Devona smiled at me. 'I'd hold your hand, but I know you can't feel it right now.'
'Hold it anyway,' I said. 'For luck, if nothing else.'
She nodded and took hold of one of my hands. Henry wheeled over a surgical cart containing a dozen different instruments that wouldn't have been out of place in Torquemada's playroom. One by one he held an instrument and the arms extending from the fleshy mass above me stretched down and grabbed hold of it.
I'd forgotten about the bizarre piece of fleshtech hanging down from the ceiling, but now I looked up at the hands gripping the surgical instruments and I saw that the mass was slowly descending toward me. When the hands were within reach of the table the mass stopped moving.
'Please tell me those things are just going to hold the instruments for you,' I said to Baron.
He gave me a smile that did nothing at all to reassure me. 'Don't worry. I'll be guiding them every step of the way.'
And before I could say anything else Baron gave a command and one of the hands reached toward me.
The operation had begun.
At one point during the procedure Baron said, 'Something just occurred to me, Mr. Richter. You're in a rather unique situation.'
I tried to ignore the disembodied hands of the fleshtech device as they worked on restoring the connections between my brain and my central nervous system. 'Considering that I'm a zombie having my head put back onto my body by the Frankenstein Monster, I'd say that was an understatement.'
Baron chuckled. 'Besides that, I mean. Tonight someone attacked you, cut off your head, stole your body, and later dumped it rather unceremoniously in the Sprawl. This puts you in a unique situation in that, since the beheading didn't kill you, you are in a sense able to investigate your own murder. How many private detectives can say the same?'
'I hadn't thought of it like that. I'll make sure to highlight it on my resume.'
Baron was right about one thing. When the operation was finished my first order of business was to find out who'd done this to me and why. And once I did I intended to lay a serious hurt on them.
I gritted my teeth as the arms continued their work.
