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nitratedreams · 4 months ago

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The Reanimator Encounters a Man of Science

the cast: Wilbur- animator; ordinary man with dreams of seeing his work on the silver screen.

Killian- reanimator; defective necromancer with only the ability to resurrect dead rats.*

Dr. Eastwood: scientist; old-time pest from Killian's past with an obsession with the dead.

the era: 1924, shortly Wilbur and Killian move into their own animation studio.

the background: I wrote this as an aside to determine the nature of Wilbur and Killian's relationship. It isn't technically canon. The following takes place in the midst of a mild argument, which is promptly interrupted.

*this short story was written before I'd decided the extent of Killian's abilities, so he is not limited to only rat resurrections

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A knock at the door startled them both into abrupt silence.

Without thinking, Killian moved to open it first, but regretted it as soon as he did so. He was greeted by a face he recognized with instant dismay.

"Still calling yourself a 'reanimator'?" that grinning mouth said. Killian pressed his eyes closed as the irritating lilt in those words pricked his ears. He took a deep breath, then lifted his head with as much dignity as he could muster to look the speaker in the eye. He had honestly forgotten how well the man could fill a door frame. And he had forgotten the detestable pride the man had always taken in looking down that curved nose of his.

"How did you find me here?"

"Oh give yourself some credit; it took quite a lot of digging! You're a hard man to track, Killian. Didn't expect you'd ever make it out of that slum, but once I realized you were gone it was just a matter of employing my usual means. Something I can afford of course, as a man of science. And how are you faring in that regard, in this...?" He leaned back and craned his neck, evidently trying to read their sign outside the studio.

"...This 'K & W Studio'?" He made an unceremonious double take with a clear expression of mocking bemusement and said, "What is that?"

Killian bristled. "It's our initials."

When Wilbur raised his hand in an awkward greeting, the man finally seemed to notice the rest of his audience, as well as the contents of the studio's interior. He peered side to side through suspicious eyes.

"What exactly is it that you do here? I see none of the regular accoutrements for your sort of quackery."

"It's an animation studio," Killian said.

"Hah! There you go again, using terminology you have no right to! And I see no evidence of such activity. Although, I suppose even you wouldn't keep the cadavers out in the open; it'd be rather uncouth."

"Animation, Eastwood, animation, not reanimation. He's the animator."

He turned and pointed at Wilbur, who, caught off-guard by the sudden call out, silently picked up the nearest stack of papers and flipped through them for the uninvited guest to see their cartoon character appear on. The man looked closely and let out a booming laugh that rattled the windows in their frames.

"Animation! So you're in showbiz now! I have to admit it's not my sort of entertainment; good for a cheap laugh every now and again though. How you managed to get wrapped up in all this I'll never know."

"Dr. Eastwood, why are you here?" Killian finally said in frustration.

Dr. Eastwood's face lit up, as if he had also just remembered why he was there. He put both hands on Killian's shoulders and said, "I've done it."

"'Done it'?"

"Yes, YES!" the man cackled. "Come with me to my laboratory, and I'll show you."

"Not without him." Killian jabbed a thumb back at Wilbur for the final time. Dr. Eastwood grumbled, but acquiesced regardless. They made a polite exchange of handshakes and names before the man of science stepped back with hands clasped as they scrambled for their appropriate coats and hats. Finally he turned on his heel and led the way to the parked car on the other side of the street. It was open-topped, and they could clearly see the driver stamping out his cigarette and climbing back into his seat at their approach. Killian slid into the back seat behind the driver and left Wilbur to sit behind the massive frame of Dr. Eastwood. As the car started, Wilbur immediately leaned over and whispered, quietly as he could above the roar of the engine, "You were in the sciences before this?"

"No!" Killian replied harshly. "I wouldn't go near it with a ten foot pole if it weren't for him." His eyes launched dagger after dagger into the back of Dr. Eastwood's head.

"If that's how you feel, I'm not so sure I appreciate you inviting me along."

"What else was I to do? I didn't want to be stuck alone with him. He'd probably hook me up to one of his machines and try to siphon out whatever magic I've got in me."

"He can do that?!"

"Hell if I know. But I wouldn't put it past him to try."

"Is that how you know him, then? Was he trying to nab you for experiments or something?"

"He found me when I had a little corner stand reanimating- or resurrecting, or whatever the hell- raising the spirits of people's deceased pets. Of all the belligerent scientific folks, he's the worst, if only for the fact that he wouldn't leave me alone. Most called me a quack, some tried to catch me slipping up, but every one of them just went on their way after they had their little theories proven or disproven. But him, ugh! Always had something to say about me calling myself a 'reanimator'. No matter what he came in rambling about, the conversation would inevitably come back around to that, and yet for the life of me I can't even recall what his argument was. I must've gone into a sort of waking swoon every time he came by. I think he said it was something about him and his 'educated brothers' using science and technology to actually reanimate dead body part by the literal interpretation of the word; something like that. Utter nonsense! What's the difference, I'd think."

"Maybe I'd better ask him?"

"At your own risk."

With that, Killian leaned back and put his hat over his face.

Wilbur uncomfortably leaned forward and cleared his throat before saying, "Dr. Eastwood-"

The man had whipped his head around before Wilbur had even finished clearing his throat.

"Comfortable back there?" he asked loudly.

"Ah, yes sir, and I- I wanted to ask about what it is you do. I take it you reanimate as Killian does?"

Dr. Eastwood's sun-shiny smile immediately darkened, and he said, "What he does is nothing compared to what I do. I have devoted my life to the study of death, to the study of life, to the study of the human body as we know it, and beyond. I know all the intricacies of the textures of tissues, the levels of decay, and the density of ligaments as they go through their stages from life until death. I have never known a moment's peace from this pull towards discovering, learning, understanding. He could not tell you a right limb from a left limb if it were detached from its torso! All he does is say a few silly words and put a soul in a body. He doesn't care to know any more than that."

Though he glared at Killian's supposedly napping form, he did not stir.

Dr. Eastwood continued.

"He is a necromancer, nothing more. A rare one, to be sure, but with that same air of womanly ignorance that all the rest have. They all refuse to see that science will truly bring the dead back to life, give them living meat and bones and veins that can pump fresh new blood through them. We scientific men strive to give the dead their bodies back to them, fresh and renewed, not throwing them back into their decaying carcasses as these do."

"And have you accomplished any of that yet?" Killian's sharp voice asked. He had lifted his hat and was peeking out at them through one eye.

"That I HAVE!" Dr. Eastwood cried triumphantly, jumping to his feet and causing the driver to panic and yell at him to sit down. He did so, but still with that wild grin and wide-eyed look. Killian smirked and said, "So close," before promptly replacing his hat over his eyes.

Dr. Eastwood turned his attention back to Wilbur.

"Look at him," he murmured, leaning nearly half way over the back of his seat. The driver watched him warily out of the corner of his eye.

"He can't stand the fact that I've cracked it. He just can't bear the thought of his skill being ordinary, something that even the common folk like you could practice. We'll make this science accessible yet; everyone will be able to raise the dead, not just these who have been born with the ability to harness the supernatural in ways we can never understand. The world over will be educated one day, Wil, and people will be able to perform feats of magic beyond our wildest dreams, without ever needing a drop of magic in them."

Before Wilbur could form any sort of response, the car came to a halt in front of a large brick building, and Dr. Eastwood ushered them out.

***

The laboratory was littered with lab assistants and electric lamps of all kinds, but looking down at it from the catwalk, they all seemed to form an artistic mural. Both Killian and Wilbur's heads were swimming by the time they reached the ground floor and Dr. Eastwood finally got through explaining the reasoning behind the placements, the groupings, and the wiring, always prefacing with the understanding that they, in their lack of education, would likely not catch his meaning in anything he said, and then proceeding to say it anyway.

In the center of it all was a small table with a sheet placed over it. Strange tools were set up on smaller tables around it, and all the wires from every lamp were attached to two plain, but foreboding metal prongs with wooden handles. As they drew near, Dr. Eastwood removed the white sheet to reveal a small dead cat.

At his command the levers were pulled and switches were flipped; the lamps buzzed to life, and the scientist brought the sparking prongs to the creature's little body, one to the temple, and one to the chest.

And to their amazement, amidst the shower of white hot sparks, the creature moved. It did more than move; it stood, and blinked, and licked its paw. Dr. Eastwood ordered the switches turned off, and as the hum of the machinery died, they could hear the cat meowing. In a frenzy the assistants gathered around to monitor and take notes, apply new machinery and call out phrases of confirmation or denial to one another.

Killian narrowed his eyes.

"There is nothing in there."

"What do you mean?" Wilbur asked.

"He means there's no soul in there," Dr. Eastwood answered for him. "That much is true. It would be pure folly on my part to try and hide that there are still flaws in the science. But one day at a time. They live in the physical sense if we continue to transfuse blood, and use a pump on the heart at intervals to keep it going through the veins. We've even seen that through these means the body will begin to heal itself of any injuries, and that is beyond anything that simple magic can do for a corpse."

'That's all well and good, but if you're trying to bring back what made them so loved, you'll have to do more than just revive tissues."

Dr. Eastwood pulled Killian aside.

"That's what I mean to tell you," he said quietly. "The soul is all that's missing. No prayer to any God or angel or ritual performed by an ordinary human can bring it back. No mathematical calculations or equations nor any amount of electricity can either, as far as we've discovered."

"So you admit it; the most important thing of all is something your science still can't accomplish."

"Defeat is not something I will ever admit, but I will always learn from what experiences I've had." He gripped Killian's forearm and looked him in the face with startling intensity. "It is folly to ignore the answers that lay right in front of us. People like you hold the key. Killian, won't you work with me, and be the final piece in this extraordinary puzzle? Think of when I first found you, and how happy you made people by bringing their pets back to life. Now think of how happy you could make people by bringing those little souls into a body that's just the way- no, better than it was when they left it! Animals injured in accidents will carry no sign of the incident that killed them. I can do that part of the operation for you. We can work together. And say you ever learn how to bring back human souls, just consider the possibilities! What's to say science couldn't help unlock that part of yourself, whatever it is that hinders your ability to raise the human dead? Wouldn't you like to find out? Think of it. People will never have to know grief again."

Killian remained silent, and looked back over at the table where the little kitten sat. The lab assistants had dispersed, leaving only Wilbur standing there, trying to play with it. He was scratching under the creature's chin and around its ears, making kissy faces and cooing quietly. The kitten did not do much to heed this. But still, Wilbur did not give up. Without knowing it, Killian began to smile as he watched on.

"I see by your expression that you like the idea," Dr. Eastwood said with that grin of his, breaking Killian from his momentary trance.

"No."

"The scientist's face fell.

"'No'? What do you mean, 'no'? It's a brilliant idea; it was made for you, it was cut out for you!" His patience had finally reached its breaking point.

" What else is a necromancer meant to do in this era besides this? I know I discovered you for a reason and I know this is your purpose. You are a beacon to the scientific community; you'll be among affluent men who will respect you and cherish your ability; you'll-"

"Eastwood," Killian interrupted. "I can't. And I won't. You stick with your sciences, and I'll stick with my necromancy. I've already got a place where I can do what I please in the way I like, and I wouldn't give it up for anything."

Dr. Eastwood's red, angry face turned back toward the table where the kitten and animator stood, still engaged in their one-sided games.

Finally he said, in a voice heavy with reluctant acceptance, "You command the dead. You're a necromancer with a born ability that I both hate and can't seem to escape my fascination with. You could have greatness, power; you could make a real difference in the world... so why work for an odd, ordinary man like him?"

Killian pondered for a moment, then said the most simple version of his answer.

"He makes me laugh."

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#my writing #wilbur the animator #killian the reanimator #the scientist

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