The Monster of Anders Island

By Quill Rabbit

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PART ONE

Prayers that this year’s harvest would drag the town up from its recession had fallen on deaf ears. The pastor would have a lot to say about that; it was probably Martin’s fault. A dry, warm breeze sent a chill through Martin and he lowered his head to face the oncoming dry season.

His target was a large stone building on the side of the road, a moderate walk from the rest of town. Martin ran to the back of the house, glancing up nervously at the windows of the square stone building like death itself was watching him. He had been invited, but that made it no less dangerous to be here. Hands shaking, he rapped his knuckles against the back door and held his breath.

It opened to reveal a young woman with bright eyes and clean hair.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Pauletta said.

“He’s not here, is he?”

“No, Papa is out. Come on. I’ve got the tea all ready. Your hair is pretty, by the way.”

Martin blushed as he followed her inside, running his fingers through overgrown hair. Pauletta wasn’t doing it just to flatter him; she believed he loved men as much as everyone else did. If that was the only reason she felt safe enough around him to be his friend, Martin could live with it. No other man or woman in town would accept even that half-truth, so he was content to let it lie.

He took off his shoes, glancing only briefly at the stockings Pauletta wore but feeling a pang of jealousy anyway. Martin followed silently to the tea room while she rambled about her day and poured him a fresh cup. To hear her tell it, it was exciting to find a man who wasn’t too insecure to drink tea with her from such a frilly set.

While Martin gobbled down biscuits a bit too quickly for polite company, Pauletta began to rant.

“Papa keeps insisting that it’s time for me to marry. I think the economic downturn made him hesitant at first–I was relieved!–but he’s started bringing it up with a vengeance now that it’s clear things aren’t going to turn around this year. He insists that I need to nab one of the eligible bachelors before they’re all gone! As if that’s going to happen!” She paused and closed her eyes. “Honestly, I know it’s selfish of me, but I would prefer to marry out of love. That’s how my grandparents and ancestors did it before we came into wealth. To hear Grandpa tell it, though, many of those relationships were not church-sanctioned; maybe that’s good news for you?”

“I don’t know about that,” Martin said, wringing his hands in his lap.

Pauletta leaned forward and smiled, insisting, “There’s someone out there for you, Martin. If not here, then somewhere out there on the mainland. Europe is large and not all towns are like ours.”

“I would love to travel,” Martin admitted, looking wistfully out the window. “More than anything else, since Mother and Father passed, I’ve longed to leave Anders Island and write about my adventures.”

“I would love that for you, though I’ll admit I’d be heartbroken to lose my closest friend with nothing to look forward to beyond marriage and children.”

Martin nodded, not looking away from the window. He wanted to ask her to come with him. She had enough money to last them a few months, long enough to find more somewhere else. It was tempting, but he knew that she didn’t feel the same.

“You’re going to love being a mother,” he said, a fire burning in his gut as he grit his teeth. He didn’t want children, but the jealousy never dispersed. “You talk about it all the time.”

“I do. There’s no denying that.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, saying, “I’m not going to leave you, I promise.”

Tea with Pauletta was always a treat that ended too soon. Martin found himself back on the road and headed into town all too soon. People milled about alongside the occasional horse-drawn carriage; the few that looked at him did so as if they’d stepped in him and ruined their day in the process. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he was blowing things a little out of proportion, but the broken nose he’d gotten from his old friends when they “learned the truth” kept him on guard even around people who ignored him. 

He entered the post office and made his way behind the counter, bracing himself against it and taking a deep sigh. The building was in a pretty bad state; the floor had been swept but bugs darted about, the broken window pane had not yet been replaced, and despite it being the afternoon, there were no customers.

Briefly, once again, Martin considered stepping out from behind the counter and just walking away, but this little bit of money was the only thing keeping him fed.

It was close to an hour later that the first customer arrived: Ormand, town preacher and Pauletta’s father.

“I have a package.” He dropped in on the counter without looking at Martin. “Be quick with the receipt. I have to prepare for Sunday’s sermon, not that I expect you to be there.”

“I’m there every week,” Martin growled.

“Making everyone uncomfortable.” Ormand narrowed his eyes. “I see how mothers clutch their little boys more tightly when you’re around. Have you no decency?”

Martin listed off the price for the delivery, only for Ormand to sneer.

“I think you’re trying to swindle me out of my hard-earned money,” he said. “That’s exactly what I’d expect from someone like you.”

“I am not! That’s the listed price!”

“Do not raise your voice to me, boy. Your parents would be ashamed of your ungodly behavior.”

“Ashamed of me? Ashamed of themselves, perhaps, for following you so blindly after seeing how you’ve treated me, you hypocrite!”

“Martin!”

He flinched and turned to see his boss, a thin man with thinning gray hair, storming over to him. In the corner of his eye, Martin could see Ormand wearing a smug grin. All he could do was grit his teeth and ready himself for the storm.

“That kind of behavior is unacceptable, young man. Everything you do reflects directly on this business. Have you no shame? Apologize to his reverence right this minute or you can walk out that door and never come back.”

Martin took a deep breath, curled his hands into fists, and closed his eyes.

He’d walk.

A new voice interrupted.

“Excuse me, is this really how you treat your customers? There’s nobody else here, but I still can’t get any service, and I am a busy woman.”

Everyone turned to stare at the dark-haired woman who had folded her arms and started tapping her foot. It took a moment for Martin to place her: she was the stranger who had bought the old Anders estate on the hill some months back. In a small town where everybody knew each other, the secluded doctor had been a topic of much interest, with more rumors than facts circulating the gossip mill.

“I have no patience for your small-minded, backward attitudes toward this man’s sexuality.” Martin winced. Even strangers thought he lusted over men! “I demand to be given my mail so I can continue my work in peace!”

“I’ll grab it,” Martin mumbled, ducking through the door to the back before anyone could protest.

Finding the mail marked for “Glory Schuyler” was easy enough, but Martin waited a moment behind the doorway while his boss finished taking care of Ormand’s delivery.

“What is it, exactly, that you study, Miss Schuyler?”

“Doctor Schuyler. Since university, I’ve been applying my knowledge in medical chemistry with an eye toward human transmutation.”

“Sinful!”

“Practicing medicine is a sin, now, preacher? The Good Book says a lot about the morality of wealth, but little about withholding medicine from those in need.”

“Do not mistake your ungodly machinations for honest medicine, Miss Schuyler. The human body is made in God’s image and no self-respecting medical institution would interfere in His grand design.”

Martin listened to Ormand storm out of the post office before stepping out of the doorway and holding up the packages that had arrived for the doctor.

“Thank you,” he said once his boss stepped away. “You cannot imagine how much it means to me that someone would stand up in my defense. It hasn’t happened since my parents… People respected them enough to at least pretend I was worth defending.”

“I’ve met my fair share of arrogant, wealthy men, but most of them were at least established doctors. Religious men are the worst by far, though. My father instilled that lesson into me at an early age, though I doubt he realized it.”

“I’m sorry…”

She took her packages and departed without another word. Martin watched her exit and stared through the window as she climbed into a carriage. When she was out of sight, he had to prop himself up against the counter to stay standing.

She specialized in human transmutation.

As soon as his boss shooed him from the office, Martin took off by foot down main street and out of town. There weren’t many hills on Anders Island, thankfully, but the few it had were large and imposing. The manor peeked over the buildings on the outskirts of town as if it were watching Martin with curiosity. He did his best not to look up at it, as if from this distance he might be able to see Doctor Schuyler staring at him through one of the distant high windows.

It wasn’t too hot that late in the day, but Martin was sweating only a third of the way up the hill. He regretted not making the sacrifice of paying for a carriage; his stomach could take it for one night. Martin’s legs burned and his throat was dry as he turned over ideas in his head.

The peeling front door towered over Martin. At some point, the knocker had fallen off from the rot of the wood, which seemed like an omen if there ever was one. Martin gulped and raised a shaky hand to pound on the door as hard as he could before his courage fell away.

For a good minute, Martin stood there with his fist against the door, legs trembling. He heard no footsteps on the other side, heard nothing but his own ragged breathing. It wasn’t too late to run.

And then it was. The door opened to reveal Doctor Schuyler in all her glory, cocking her head to the side as she examined Martin. It dawned on him that he was covered in sweat and barely standing. Darkness played at the edge of his vision.

“Come in,” the doctor ordered, stepping back. “I haven’t had any visitors yet, nor did I anticipate any.”

The old Anders house had loomed over Martin for his entire life, but he had never been inside before. It was sparsely populated by old furniture still covered in dust and dimly lit by the occasional wall lamp. Once they were fully inside the shadowy foyer, Martin covering his nose, the doctor turned to face him.

“Why are you here?”

“I… I heard you… I…”

“Speak up!”

Martin jumped.

“I… You were talking about… that you… Is it true?”

“Clarify what you mean.”

“What you said… about human transmutation?”

“I studied human chemistry in university as part of my medical training, and I have begun an endeavor to use it to transform the human body on a base level.” She spread her arms out. “If an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, imagine the impact on the world if we can change the very fabric of the human body! Disease is only the first step! Men will be able to breathe underwater, to survive any temperature, to nullify any poison.” Doctor Schuyler examined her surroundings. “Alas, university made it very clear that, should I use official institutions or allow men to assist me, they would pass off all my findings as their own.”

Martin shook his head.

“I don’t want to help! I mean… I wouldn’t know how to help. I… I came here because…”

The doctor folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, asking, “You came here to spy on me? To report your findings to the townsfolk and spur more rumors? I’ve had my fair share of those, too.”

“No… I don’t have any friends in town. Well, one. I came because I wanted to know if you could… if you could…” He gulped. “Could you use your science to turn a man into a woman?”

The doctor was silent and Martin couldn’t even breathe. The house groaning around them was the only indication that time passed at all. Finally, Doctor Schuyler looked away and started mumbling under her breath, occasionally chewing on her tongue or wrinkling her nose in her thoughts.

Desperate, Martin continued, “I know it’s unorthodox and maybe not even possible. No animal in the world can do something like that. B-But you have to try, right? I bet you know about so many things that I never imagined could be real. Like krakens or those martial arts that give people amazing powers. How can you give up the chance to–?”

“Stop talking. I’ll try.”

Martin nearly gagged as his breath caught in this throat.

“You will?”

“I like the idea. Simple, straightforward, a good way to prove my work has merit. I can’t imagine it would be a popular procedure, but maybe they’ll use it for prisoners or something. It would certainly be a worthwhile experiment.”

Martin ran over and shook her hand, causing her to flinch in surprise.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! You can’t imagine how much this means to me! I thought I’d never… It doesn’t matter! This could save my whole life!”

“Yes, of course. You should go. It’s late and I need to get my initial thoughts on paper before I go to bed.”

Martin nodded and shook her hand once more before she escorted him to the door.

The thought of getting help got Martin through the next few weeks of grueling work and dirty stares from his neighbors with a smile on his face. Fewer and fewer people came into the post office, occasionally stirring him from a nap, and his weekly pay shrunk a little more. It did nothing to bring him down.

He imagined himself walking down main street as a real woman, wearing a long dress and greeting the other women he passed. They’d talk about their husbands and kids while he planned his next big adventure. Maybe he’d run off and never step foot on Anders Island again.

“You’re chipper,” Pauletta told him when they next met for tea. “Did something exciting happen?”

Martin felt a lump in his throat, but managed to say, “Just looking forward to the future.”

Finally, a letter came into the office for him from the doctor, insisting that they meet right away.

Doctor Schuyler had set her lab in what used to be a conservatory. Vials and instruments were scattered across long counters, and the flower beds long dug up and emptied. One counter had been converted into an operating bed, where the doctor had Martin sit while she prepared a serum.

“This should start a process of regeneration that gives you the body of a woman,” Doctor Schuyler said, holding up a syringe of a milky blue fluid. “We’ll start with a small dosage and gradually increase it once we’re certain your body won’t reject the serum. Hold still.”

It pinched a little as the needle went in, but the whole process was over in an instant.

“Thank you so much for this, Doctor.”

“Come back in five days for a checkup and additional dose,” she told him.

For the next two weeks, Martin waited for anything to happen. He felt a little warm at first, but the doctor assured him that was a normal response. Two more doses, though, and he still didn’t notice anything happening to his body.

After several weeks, he found himself having to shave less facial hair than before. His skin, previously rough and hard, had grown smooth and bruised more easily. Martin had to stare at the mirror to assure himself that his face was still his own. In the street, people started to look at him weird.

“You’re definitely a lot happier than you were before,” Pauletta assured him when he explained that Doctor Schuyler was helping him with a project. “I can’t wait to hear more.”

He started to feel warm again and soon had a small fever. Martin found himself coughing up phlegm several times a day, and no matter how much he slept, the fever would not go down. His skin grew pale enough that his boss asked him if he was okay to work, but Martin couldn’t say no without giving up another meal.

His next injection was coming up, so Martin spared the money for a carriage to take him up to the house. Certainly, if he had made himself walk, Martin would have never made it the whole way up. Perhaps the doctor would compensate him for the cost.

Doctor Schuyler took a blood sample and ordered Martin to sleep, giving him a sedative and leaving him on the makeshift operating table. It was getting dark when he stirred again. The doctor was hunched over a table and scribbling madly, muttering to herself.

He could move a lot easier now, and the doctor turned to face him when he sat up.

“I gave you an antihistamine,” she explained as if Martin knew what that was. “You’ll need to take one every day, but otherwise you’ll be able to function normally.”

“Is it the serum?”

Doctor Schuyler bowed her head.

“It is,” she said. “I’m not entirely sure what is happening, but your body is having a very strong response to the serum now that it’s had time to build up in your tissue. If your health is a concern, you can stop taking it now without any consequences, though you will lose what’s already happened as your body reverts to its original state.”

Martin stared down at his lap, eyes burning. After all this, he got nothing! The serum didn’t even work! He was never going to be a real woman.

“The alternative is that I can keep giving you the serum and tinker with the formula moving forward.”

“You can?!”

Martin tried to jump from the bed, but his legs hadn’t fully woken up yet and he stumbled to the ground, pain exploding in his jaw as it hit the tile.

“Be careful!” Doctor Schuyler hissed, coming over to pick him up. “Yes, I can do that, but as a consequence, you might continue to be sick for a little while longer. This isn’t an exact science, either. There’s no guarantee that I can fix whatever’s wrong with the serum.”

Standing now, Martin nodded. He didn’t want to go back to being a rough, hairy man, nor did he want to be a lab project himself. Even a simple townsperson like himself knew that science could not progress without experimentation, but this was a lot of weight on his shoulders.

“Can you give me the injection today and let me decide what I want to do before the next one?”

“Very well. It’s getting dark; grab some sheets and stay in a spare bedroom for the night.”

It was difficult getting to sleep in an unfamiliar place, and Doctor Schuyler sent Martin away in the morning tired and hungry. He spent the rest of that day propping himself up against the post office counter and obsessing over his options. For the rest of the week, sleep became more and more difficult, leaving him haggard despite the medication the doctor had given him.

The day before his next injection, he found himself graced by the pastor’s presence once again.

“I’m expecting a package, boy,” Ormand hissed. “Hurry. I already have to bless everything you touch; I don’t want to be in your presence any more than I have to be.”

Martin snarled, but said nothing and stepped into the back. He raised a trembling fist, pressure building in his skull as a strained whine escaped him. It took a few moments to get his composure and drop his arm. His boss would have killed him if he’d put a hole in the wall, anyway.

“Here’s your package,” he said, throwing it onto the counter and not looking at Ormand.

The pastor scoffed.

“I know you have no love for the Lord, but I think your parents would have at least taught you to respect your elders, boy.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my parents and do not call me boy!”

Ormand turned his nose up and flared his nostrils, saying, “Well, you’re a failure of a man. Everyone can tell. Have the decency to be ashamed of yourself, at least.”

That evening, Martin walked all the way back up the hill to the old Anders house and pounded on the door. Doctor Schuyler answered with a bitter scowl that melted as soon as she saw Martin’s face.

“We’re continuing the experiment,” he said. “No matter what. This is going to happen.”

At the doctor’s request, Martin gathered up his things and moved into the spare bedroom she had given him before. This way, she claimed, she would be able to keep a closer eye on him and any potential symptoms. On the first evening, following a lavish dinner that the doctor had apologetically called small, he stood at the window of his room and looked down at the sleepy town sprawled beneath him.

There was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Doctor Schuyler carrying fresh sheets.

She joined him at the window to say, “They seem so small from up here. Every time I go into town, I expect to be surprised, but they really are only what they seem.”

“Yeah… Are you sure you can do this?”

“I have complete faith in my abilities as a doctor and a scientist.”

Martin still found himself grinding his teeth a little.

She said, “I never asked you what you wanted to be called.”

“Hm?”

“You can’t very well go around calling yourself Martin as a woman now, can you? Come on, tell me what you’d like me to call you.”

“...It’s stupid.”

“I’ve let you into my home. I feel that I have the right to know who you are.”

Martin snickered.

“Okay. I… I was thinking… Marina.”

Doctor Schuyler nodded.