Turn

by Jeff Brown

"Turn. Turn. Turn." Corey said softly to himself. "Slowly. Slowly. Slowly."

He turned the screw slowly with the screwdriver in a clockwise manner. He ignored the temptation to use the power screwdriver for fear it would ruin his work. Corey had made the mistake before. He cursed himself for being so stupid, so careless. The speed of the power screwdriver burned part of the exterior of his project. In a fit of anger he slung the power screwdriver across the workshop where it slammed against a large rack of saws, hammers, drivers and ratchets.

Corey had been careful to bore out a small hole for each large screw, but had grown inpatient with hand turning each one. He learned his lesson in patience as he backed out the screw manually.

He would have to replace that part, and these parts were not easy to come by. He had searched for several weeks for this part, the perfect part, and would have to do so again. Hopefully, this time when he found it, the person who owned the part would be less reluctant and more willing to give it up.

He found the part with ease.

He received it with less ease, having to eventually take it.

It didn't matter to Corey now as he slowly turned the screw.

"Turn. Turn. Turn. Delicate. Delicate. Delicate."

A few more turns and he would be done. A few more turns and his project would be complete.

"Turn. Turn. Turn."

One final turn of the screwdriver made the screw feel snug enough-not too loose, but not too tight.

"Done. Done. Done."

Corey checked the object of his hard labor with the picture on the wall. The likeness was uncanny. He smiled in complete joy, baring the two teeth that still remained behind his crooked lips.

He wanted to flip the built in switch on his creation, wanted to see it come to life. But, before he could do so, it needed fluids.

Corey turned to three large steel tables that stood, bolted against one of the shops walls. Held on the tables were three containers of fluids that Corey would need to make his creation move, to make his creation live.

"No. No. No." Corey said as he checked the first container. "Won't do. Won't do. Won't do."

The second container yielded the same results as the first.

Corey began to lose hope as he reached the third container. This was the freshest of the tree containers, and to his joy, was warm-very warm.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." Corey said happily as he looked at the container. It had leaked from the top of its six-foot frame. Corey had done a good job of stopping the leakage with a rag and medical tape. Now the leak was nothing more than a slight trickle.

"Good. Good. Good." He said.

Corey took a large needle out of a medical bag and walked toward the container. A muffled scream came from the person strapped to the table. His jaw was completely gone, extracted with extreme care to be bolted into place on Corey's new being. His blue eyes grew wide as Corey approached him, needle in hand. Attached to the needle was an IV hose that was attached to Corey's human creation.

"This won't, won't, won't hurt much, much, much," he said as he poked the needle into the mans arm, securing it with a piece of tape. The man screamed, his throat making a hoarse, horrified sound. The blood started pumping through the hose from the man to the creation.

Corey sat in a rocking chair next to his creation, watching the blood flow into it, listening to his donor's muffled screams. He looked at the man, whose eyes were still wide with fear; he looked at the two dead bodies on the tables next to him, each one missing body parts that were now part of Corey's creation. He looked at the remains of his other donors lying about the floor in dismembered pieces.

A smile crossed his face as he realized his creation would soon come to life.

"Good. Good. Good." He said as the man screamed his muffled screams.

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