Last March I entered a Short Story Competition. I was placed into a heat with 30 other writers and we were given the Genre: Horror Story, and the Subject: Metal Detector. We then had 7 days to write a horror story that involved a metal detector. The following is the story I wrote. It is by no means my most exemplary work, but it got first in the heat, so I'm happy with that. If you choose to read it...don't take it too seriously, please.
Western Flanders, Belgium
October 11, 1917
17:21 Hours
Jack had been in hell for six months now. He wasn’t supposed to be sent to war. He took the job as a surgeon for the army because President Wilson declared a policy of isolation and non-involvement. But last April, he declared war. Now, Jack was in a French/American military camp somewhere in Western Belgium covered in his brother, Sam’s, blood.
He stood over the bullet-riddled body, digging through wounds and pulling round bullets out with long extracting forceps. Sam was pale from the loss of blood and unconscious from the pain. Finally, after another half-hour Jack turned to his assistant Nurse Molly Mathews,
“I’ve found all I can, if I dig anymore he may not make it. Start suturing the abdomen and I’ll work on the chest.”
“Dr. Hill, I can get one of the other nurses to help me, you’ve been working for 24 hours straight. You don’t look well,” she said.
“He’s my brother,” he managed to say around the lump in his throat.
She lightly touched his arm, “He’s going to be alright.” But they both knew he wouldn’t. Rarely were all the bullets found. One or two would remain, lurking somewhere undetected, and infection would kill him within days. Fever, coma, death. Like all the others.
A stocky nurse with circles under her eyes pushed aside the canvas drape and entered Dr. Hill’s surgery to collect the bloody tools for sterilization. She placed the scalpels and forceps on a metal tray and turned to slump out of the room. As she passed a radio, that was squawking military coordinates and orders, it momentarily went static. Jack looked up,
“Nurse Cavanaugh wait a moment.” She paused holding the canvas door open with an elbow. “Come over here will you?”
With hesitant steps she walked toward Dr. Hill. As she passed the radio it momentarily went to white noise. He turned around,
“Give me the tray and do it again… if you don’t mind.” She rolled her eyes and gave him the metal tray. This time the officers’ voices continued uninterrupted.
“Did you hear that? Nothing. The metal—”
“—effects the radio transmission,” said Nurse Mathews. “You’ve never noticed?”
“Cavanaugh, join Mathews here and finish these sutures. I’ll be in my tent for a while. I don’t want to be disturbed.” As Jack gathered up the radio Nurse Mathews grabbed his arm,
“What’s going on Jac—, Dr. Hill?”
“When you’re finished, come to my tent,” he said under his breath.
18:36 Hours
Nurse Mathews found Jack bent over a table strewn with metal scraps and the, now dissected, radio.
“You’ve destroyed our only radio! What’s wrong with you?”
He looked up momentarily, “I’ll tell you, but first I need you to get the items on this list.” She took the scrap of paper and looked it over,
“Where am I supposed to find gold or a ceramic pot?”
“You have to. Try every tent and storage facility. Go to the trenches if you have to. I know this will work. We can save them all.” Using an old scalpel, he popped off the face of a watch.
When she returned, Jack had what looked like an arm constructed of unrelated metallic parts and radio bits on the table before him. She put her collected items on the table,
“I had to go through a dead soldier’s pocket to find that gold ring. I’ve never done anything like that,” she said.
He picked up the hammer and brought it down with a crash on the ring, “Thanks.”
“What are you doing?” she cried.
He calmly said, “Do you know why President Garfield died?”
“He was shot.”
“Yes, but the bullet didn’t kill him—”
“—they never found one, right?” she interrupted.
“No, they did…only after he died. While he was alive, and in great pain, they turned a three-inch wound into a gaping, puss-filled hole across his entire abdomen. The infection caused a massive heart attack. If they had found the bullet, which was actually lodged near his spine, he would have survived.”
“Uh-huh. So, what’s all this?” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg.
“While President Garfield was dying in bed, Alexander Graham Bell put together, what he called, a metal detector to pinpoint the exact location of the bullet. However, it didn’t work properly—so the bullet was never found.”
“How is yours different?”
“Mine will use radio waves.”
00:06 Hour
Jack and Nurse Mathews stood over a still-unconscious Sam and a snoring Nurse Cavanaugh. Jack set the diabolical-looking metal detector on the table beside Sam’s cot. Jack, who hadn’t slept for over thirty hours now, looked like a zombie. His hair stuck up in myriad directions, his blood shot eyes caused him to blink repeatedly and the circles under his eyes had gone from purple to black.
Mathews placed her hand on Nurse Cavanaugh’s shoulder causing her bolt upright,
“His temperature is 103, Sir,” she blurted out in confusion.
Mathews reassured her, “It’s ok. Go to the Nurse’s Tent and rest until we need you again.”
Cavanaugh looked around drowsily, smacked her lips, and left.
“Ok,” said Jack over his shoulder, “I need the battery now.”
Under great strain she brought in a wheelbarrow containing a wet cell battery. She set it beside Jack and gasped at what she saw. His right arm, up to the shoulder, was encased by the metal detector. He looked more machine than human. She backed away with wide eyes.
“Molly, I need you to connect this wire to the zinc rod inside the pot. Be very careful not to get acid on yourself.” With shaking hands, Molly did as she had practiced back in his tent. The metal detector came to life with a hiss.
“Aha!” cried Jack, “It works! Hear that?”
She nodded, “It’s sounds like radio static.”
“That’s exactly what it is. Do you still have that pen?”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bullet pen. “When the static stops,” he said, “I need you to draw an X directly under these coils on his skin. This is heavy, so I won’t be able to hold it in place for very long. Are you ready?”
She nodded again. Jack used his left arm to help lift the detector over Sam’s body. Starting just below his neck he moved the device back and forth across his brother’s chest. The hissing did not pause. Drops of sweat slipped into his eyes and down his neck; he set the detector on the table to rest his arms.
“Ok, I need you to shift him onto his left side,” he said. With surprising ease she lifted and rolled Sam. Jack moved the cumbersome machine over his back.
“There!” said Jack, “Quick an X.” Nurse Mathews made a small mark beneath the copper coils near Sam’s spine where the static cut out, “There again!” said Jack. She made a second small X over his kidney. When they finished, Sam had three small X’s on his back. Mathews carefully disconnected the battery and Jack pulled his arm from the detector.
01:03 Hours
By the time Jack got his arm out of the contraption, Nurse Mathews had swabbed iodine onto the bullet sites and stood ready with the scalpel.
“His temperature is still rising. 103.5,” she said.
“Then let’s do this.” The first incision brought immediate results. The bullet made a loud clunk when he dropped it into the tray held by Mathews.
“Well done Doctor.”
Aware of her gaze, he smiled a bit as he made the next incision. The second bullet was also found immediately, but when he clamped onto it with the forceps it bent under the pressure. He dropped it into the tray; it no sound.
“That’s strange,” she said, “The bullet looks as if it’s been melted.” Jack moved onto the third site, but found no bullet.
“Are you sure you drew this X on the correct spot?” he asked.
“Positive,” she said, unconsciously lifting her chin. Jack dropped his tools on the tray and picked up the metal detector.
“Quickly, Molly. Connect the battery again.” He moved the hissing detector toward Sam. Only this time, as soon as it came close to his brother, it went silent. Jack banged on the metal detector, twisted knobs and adjusted wires. As he moved it away from Sam, it began hissing again. Molly’s hands flew to her mouth, “Look!”
The veins below Sam’s skin were beginning to swell. Purple web-like capillaries ringed each incision. Jack shook off the metal detector and checked his brother’s pulse.
“His heartbeat is stronger than before,” he said. “Get his temperature, I’m going to start closing these incisions.” They worked over Sam with palpable tension.
“Temperature is 101, Jack. His fever is dropping.” Jack sighed with relief unable to believe it. By the time they closed the incisions Sam’s temperature was a reassuring 99 degrees. They left him under the watchful eye of Nurse Cavanaugh—refreshed from her midnight nap—so they could get some rest themselves.
“Keep an eye on these veins,” he told Cavanaugh, “If they swell up much more, or if these clusters of purple ones don’t sink back below the surface in the next few hours, come get me.”
400 hours
Jack sat up in bed. He looked around in the dark and listened intently. He heard the distant fire of guns from the trenches. The attack sirens suddenly blasted from the speakers. Loud, ear piercing, alarms from every corner of the camp blared out the warning of German attack. The ground shook and the tent lit up momentarily silhouetting the form of Molly as she burst into the room,
“Jack! Fire—balloons in the sky—the trenches—” she screamed incoherently.
Jack pulled on his rob and grabbed her shoulders as he shouted over the sirens,
“Get to the shelter and lock yourself in! I’ll get Sam and anyone who can walk!” She bobbed her head up and down to show understanding.
Jack ran to the surgical tent as fast as his legs would carry him. The moonlight showed dark, round forms floating like mythical creatures above the trenches. When he reached the surgery, he found his brother’s cot empty and the room torn apart. His metal detector lay in mangled pieces on the floor. The metal bedpan was twisted and folded…were those teeth marks?
“Sam? Nurse Cavanaugh?” he called.
The tent lit up again from another shell blast and the ground shook under his bare feet. He picked up a heavy rod, which had been snapped off the cot frame, and held it out as a weapon. He pulled back the canvas flaps to each adjoining room and found the same thing—every piece of metal was distorted.
Then he saw the feet of Nurse Cavanaugh. She was on the ground partially blocked by a canvas drape. Between gun blasts and shell explosions he heard a grunting sound. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard—like a bear or a wolf fighting over its prey…or worse.
Jack moved toward the sound with the metal rod raised above his head. He closed the distance silently. The blood pounding in his ears sounded like the roar of an ocean. Whatever was on the other side of the canvas, had torn apart those rooms with unearthly power. He reached out a trembling hand and grabbed a fistful of canvas. With a shout of terror he pulled back the drape and jumped back—bracing for an attack.
A shell blast outside the tent blew the heavy drapes across his face and knocked him off his feet. He lifted his head to see his brother crouched over a dead Nurse Cavanaugh. Sam had her detached arm in his mouth. Her own blood dripped onto her face. Jack’s stomach gave a lurch.
“Sam?!”
The face and eyes that looked at him were not the face and eyes of his brother. Sam dropped the blubbery arm. Jack felt the burn of stomach bile in his throat as Sam crept forward like an enormous, purple ape. His unblinking eyes, once brown, were now the color of cold steel. The veins in his neck and forearms stood out against his transparent skin like throbbing ropes. Jack tried to stand up and run, but his legs would not work. He seemed only able to move backward on his elbows.
Sam crept forward, sniffing at the air and licking his bloody lips. Jack searched for something, anything to defend himself. His hand found the metal rod he dropped during the blast.
“Sam, stay back! I don’t want to hurt you. Brother!” He hoped the word would snap Sam out of whatever trance he seemed to be in. Instead, he recoiled into a pouncing position.
“Sam!” Jack shouted, “I’m warning you! We have to get out of here!!”
Sam sprang forward so fast Jack barely had time to bring the weight of the metal rod down on Sam’s head. The rod simply bounced off with a metallic echo. Sam didn’t seem to notice and instead leaned down and took a deep breath close to Jack’s face. To Jack’s horror Sam growled like an animal.
“No Sam! Don’t!” he screamed just as Sam sunk his teeth into his brother’s neck—
A flash of light.
A blast of heat.
Then Darkness.
06:14 Hours
Jack slowly became aware of his surroundings. He heard flapping canvas, distant shouts and sporadic gunfire. He smelled smoke, dirt and blood. He felt himself wrapped in something warm and soft. Then he heard his name,
“Jack, you can’t leave me here.” He recognized Molly crying. He tried to take a deep breath but coughed and opened his eyes. He looked up into the round, tear-filled eyes of Molly,
“Jack! Oh! I thought you were dead!” Between sobs he heard words like, “You’re so blue, and the veins, and cold as ice…” but he wasn’t listening. He had a terrible taste in his mouth. He sat up with so much force it knocked Molly backward.
Metal. His only thought. He would die without it. He looked around frantically, picked up a piece of shrapnel and wedged it between his teeth. It didn’t give. He felt instinctively that any amount of metal would give him the strength to pulverize everything into dust.
He heard Molly’s voice somewhere in the recesses of his brain, “Jack what are you doing? You can’t eat that—”
The wind shifted. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. The scent washed over him like baptismal water: Iron. It was coming from Molly. From her blood. She starred at him with wide confused eyes. Confusion turned to horror as Jack leaned back into a crouch, about to pounce….
