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"Experiments?" Why did I have this sick feeling in my gut? I imagined Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory. "If you'd like to see some of my work, I'll show you." I hesitated but only for a moment. This was all part of the Baxter mystique, of what made him what he was. Baxter's lab was at the back of the house. There were lots of cupboards and shelves all around and a large table in the center of the room. "I do the autopsies here," he said pointing to the table. By now, I was feeling lightheaded and queasy. "Autopsies?" "I meant dissections." I moved toward the cupboards and started to open one. "Stop, you can't look in there!" But I had already seen what was in the cabinet nearest to me. There was a series of large jars like those used to preserve fruits and vegetables and liquid of some sort within. With shock I realized that the small round objects floating within were eyeballs. Each jar held a different pair that stared back at me like the bizarre stuff of nightmares. Baxter quickly slammed the cupboard shut in an angry gesture I found intimidating. "You said you only wanted to talk. I don't believe I can trust you." I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. "Your experiments sound interesting. Maybe we could discuss them." I moved carefully away from the shelves. I took a deep breath and tried to control my nausea. He seemed pacified. "I have a serious interest in science. Naturally, I've had cause to examine a number of animals. Keeping parts is necessary for authentication of research results." I didn't think he was being completely truthful but I kept my opinion to myself. I couldn't help wondering if some of those unseeing orbs had once belonged to human beings; I shuddered involuntarily. "What is the source of your literary inspiration?" I thought it best to change the subject. I wasn't equipped to deal with many more nasty discoveries. Baxter gave me a considering look. "I suppose it's all right if you see for yourself. I've suffered alone for a long time. It's pure torture, endless purgatory. The burden is sometimes too much." "I don't understand." "The demons, monsters from hell. I can even smell the brimstone. That's why I must remain here alone. I am the guardian, the gatekeeper. Without me, they would get loose, escape into the night to prey on the world. I'll let you see them but only for a moment. You will be safe as long as you're with me." He took my hand in his. I felt his sweaty palm, which reminded me of a limp, dead fish. Then he led me down a set of rickety stairs into a cellar that smelled of earth, mold, decay and lingering death. I felt a sense of overpowering dread like a character in a gothic novel. I shivered, recognizing that the cold was as much in me as without. "Do not be afraid," he said. "I will protect you from them." "Exactly what are we talking about here?" "The natural supernatural. Silver serpents who swim in a sea of endless blood." He smiled through thin, pale lips. "Try not to scream or show fear when you encounter them. It will only encourage their frenzy and blood lust." “Ghouls? Vampires? Ghosts? Witches?” Baxter’s face was a mask. “No, nothing like that, not at all. This is quite real, not figments of the imagination. No one has ever seen their like.”
I hesitated but Baxter pulled me forward in a forceful manner
with more strength than I would have imagined him capable. He
held up his flashlight and fixed it ahead of us.
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