Eternally Yours

Will euthanasia ever be the choice we can all make? Should we make that choice? Would it really be a choice?

 

 

 Prologue 

 

In the year 2101, Congress passed the Pro-Choice Euthanasia Bill, granting Americans the right to choose natural death or euthanasia. To opt for euthanization, a contract was required offering any usable organs to a buyer of the citizen’s choice.

In 2136, President Margaret Barton and members of Congress running for re-election celebrated a landslide move back into office based on their brave steps to conquer fear of death. The program worked well for a few years until greed rose in the political houses of the government. Things began to change – for the worse.  What began hailed as an idea that's time had come, soon became the underworld's legitimate way to bring in big money.  Signed contracts promised the donor the opportunity to choose the donee and their day of death.  Those contracts became meaningless pieces of paper and the gateway to hell.

 

　　　 　　

　Chapter 1

 

Arrival

 

Year 2132:

"That’s a ‘62 model. Take it over to the west side. Looks to be in good condition. Should be a breeze to sell the parts. Got in an ’84 yesterday that wasn’t in half as good shape. Make sure this one gets prime space where shoppers won’t miss it. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of it sold by the end of the week." Grant turned away from Hank and resumed work while tallying the parts to be harvested from the new arrival.

"You hear that, Mrs. Howard? You’re getting prime space. That doesn’t happen too often around here at your age. I guess all that diet and exercise stood you in good stead after all. ‘Of course, you do have to get a physical since you didn’t have one before coming here. After that, it’s the gravy train for you."

The naked woman on the gurney smiled back at Hank. "I’m glad I chose my time instead of leaving it to my children. They would have made me wait until no decent euthan center would have taken me. This way I’ll still have some say as to whom gets my organs and I’ll be taken care of in style until I choose to die. I like that. May I have the blanket back? I'm getting chilled."

Hank wheeled her down the hall to a room. Grace Howard was delighted with her new quarters. An impressive king-sized bed was the centerpiece, covered with the plushest linens, comforter and pillows. At the other end of the room were stunning Queen Anne chairs and tables forming a pleasant seating and dining area. Rich draperies hung on the windows rivaling the quality tapestries on the walls.

"I think I’ll be comfortable here, Hank. Thank you,"

"I’ll hang up your clothing and set out an outfit for when your physical is completed. Is there a particular favorite?"

"I’m tired enough to sleep later. I think the mauve gown and robe set will be perfect. Will I be allowed lunch today?"

"You’ll be back in plenty of time for lunch. Fill out the sheet with your preferences. It will arrive soon after you return to your room."

Grace rose from the gurney without embarrassment or guile wearing her nudity as though it were the finest garment. Hank admired the taut skin and light muscular build of the seventy-five year old. He noted that although she had a golden tan, there wasn't a tan line in sight. She turned to him before entering the bathroom.

"I’m going to take a shower and freshen up. Do you think I have time before the medic comes for me?"

"You have about twenty minutes. Will that be sufficient? I can always ask him to hold off for a short time."

"That should be perfect. Would you change the sheets on the gurney? I love the feel of fresh, clean sheets, don’t you?"

"It'll be ready when you come out."

"Oh, one more thing, Hank. Isn’t there a workout room for the guests?"

"Yes, ma’am. Follow the red-lined floors and you’ll walk right into it."

Grace dried her short hair with the thick, soft towel. Running her fingers through the black crown, she tamed it into an attractive hairdo swept back smooth on the sides, rising in the front from a widow’s peak to inch-long spikes. A streak of solid white hair began at her left temple and ran to the nape of her neck. Aside from the streak, there wasn’t another white hair on her head. She laid down on the gurney to await the medic. A modest, but expensive velour blanket covered her from the tops of her breasts to mid-thigh.

"Hello, Mrs. Howard. Ready for your physical?"

"Yes, thank you. Let’s get finished as soon as possible. I’m starving." Grace grinned with impish delight at the handsome medic.

*****

"Are you sure that’s where she went?" Beth asked, exasperation edging her voice.

"That’s what the note said. When did she sign up for euthanasia? Why would she sign up for it?" Sid, Beth’s brother, sat reading the note for the umpteenth time. His mother’s floral scrawl danced across the page.

"She was talking about it a few months ago, but I was sure Brad and I talked her out of it. We went over the contract she would’ve signed. There seems to be no legal way to break it once a person has committed. What was the name of the place?" Beth tapped her chin trying to remember the name imprinted on the paperwork. "Eternal…Eternity…Eternally Yours – that’s it! Grab the telephone book. We’ll give her a call."

"Eternally Yours. I’m Wanda. How may I help you?" a sweet, breathless voice answered the telephone.

"I’d like to speak with a new resident, Grace Howard, please."

"One moment. I show no one by that name staying here." Wanda’s voice dropped the sweetness and frowned.

"Please check again. She would have arrived today. Perhaps she isn’t in your records yet." Beth fidgeted as she waited for Wanda.

"Room information is put into our system the day before the guest is to be in residence. I show nothing for Grace Howard. Perhaps you have the wrong date for her to join us. Thank you for calling. Good-bye." Before Beth could object, a click signaled the end of the conversation.

"They have no record of her, Sid. Or, at least that’s what the operator said. It’s odd – she was nice when she answered, but when I mentioned Mother’s name, she turned cold. Something’s not right. Come on, we’re going to visit Eternally Yours."

Beth grabbed a sweater from the coat rack by the door and slipped her slender frame into it. Plucking the keys from the hall table, she was out the door before Sid fully registered her actions.

"Are you sure that’s the right place, Sis? The names of these mausoleums all sound alike."

"I’m certain. Now, come on."

* * * * *

"I see you found the spa. Do you need anything?" Hank returned the glowing smile from Grace.

"A bottle of ice cold water would be heaven-sent about now. Thank you."

Grace climbed down off the treadmill when Hank walked back in the door carrying a bottle of Spring Fresh.

"When do you think the first buyers will be through? I admit I'm a tiny bit nervous displaying myself like a shelf of canned goods." A twitter of laughter punctuated her words.

"I would expect to see someone by tomorrow morning at the latest; possibly by late this afternoon. Most people find the initial buyer tour an uncomfortable experience, but by the second or third group, they lose their inhibitions and anxieties. You’ll be fine, Mrs. Howard."

"Call me Grace. After all, you’ve seen me in the buff, so I think it’s silly to be so formal. Can you tell me what to expect?"

"You will receive the visitors in your room. Most of our residents choose to dress in robes since the buyers are allowed to view a person’s entire body. They are not, however, allowed to touch. Either party may ask questions and answers must be truthful. A potential buyer will have a copy of your physical thus having access to full disclosure regarding the condition of your organs. You will have the option of choosing who receives each item upon your death. A person in good health can expect several families to stop by."

"That doesn’t sound so difficult. I think I’ll head back to my room and catch a nap in case anyone shows today to view the merchandise. Odd way to think of one’s self."

"There’s a buzzer in your room. If you need anything or have any other questions, please call me." Hank turned to leave then hesitated. "By the way, your order for pheasant went through for supper tonight."

"I’ve never tasted pheasant, but when I was a child that was a dish only the wealthy ate. Now I’ll see if it was worth dreaming about all those years." Grace grinned as she gathered her towel to follow Hank out of the gym.

* * * * *

"I told you she’d be coming in this week. You wanted a good pair of lungs for your wife - these are the ones you want. She never smoked, is a fanatic about exercising and eating a well-balanced diet. Yes, she’s seventy-five, but her physical this morning shows the body of a forty-five year old. You’ll agree when you see her. She’s been taking the youth pills religiously all her life and it’s paid off.

"I already have a couple of buyers coming in this afternoon. If you want a chance at her, you’d better be here no later than 6 p.m. The fee? Two hundred fifty thousand, just as we discussed. Too exorbitant? How much is your wife’s health worth? By the end of this week, she’ll have lungs that allow her to breathe like a normal person. Fine, I’ll see you at six. Have the fifty percent down payment ready." Grant slammed the phone back into its cradle, immediately picking it back up to dial the next number.

"I have the heart you were promised. You can have it by the end of the week. The first buyers are coming this evening. Sure. Bring the down payment with you or it’s no deal. That’s right, two hundred thousand in my hands tonight. See you at 7."

Grant rubbed his hands together envisioning the cash payments he would be receiving before the night was over. Mrs. Grace Howard was going to bring him a tidy sum this week – over a million and a half if everything went as planned. He had just one more call to make.

"Hi, Saturday morning will be the next one. She’s in the Queen Anne suite. I don’t care how you do it as long as it looks natural and doesn’t damage any of the goods. No, it can’t look like a heart attack. The heart is the major product we’re harvesting. I don’t want anything looking suspicious enough to require an autopsy. Tell you what I'll do. You know the medication we use for the euthanazation? I'll leave a vial out in the blood samples pick-up box. From there on you know the drill." Grant loved his work.

Grant had been making deals with some of the richest people in the world in the past year. Most buyers were given run-of-the-mill, borderline goods. The special merchandise, like Grace Howard, brought a windfall of untraceable cash straight to his grasping fingers before being dumped into a Caribbean bank account. He figured one more year would yield enough to keep him happy for the rest of his life. He turned to the circled date on his five-year calendar - December 31, 2138. Written in bold letters was "Permanent Caribbean Vacation." 

Swaggering down the hall to Grace's room, Hank hitched up his pants. Sometimes working around Eternally Yours had its advantages. Keeping Grace from going anywhere else in the building just might be fun. His reflection in a window caught his attention. He stopped to slip a comb through his golden hair, tucked his shirt in to show his broad, muscular chest at its best and as a last touch opened the top two buttons.

"Come in," Grace's voice was low and sultry as though she was waiting for him to arrive. He stepped into the room surprised to find himself blushing when he came face to face with her.

"I was checking to see if you needed anything. Your first lookers should arrive around six o'clock. Are you ready?" Hank asked.

"Oh, I can think of at least one thing I want, but I'm not sure it's on the menu," Grace purred, drawing the side of her robe away from the shapely legs hidden underneath.

"Perhaps you need the house special." Hank's smile widened into a lecherous grin. What a switch from the sweet woman he had brought in earlier. "Let me get the door locked to give us some privacy."

"Lovely," Grace said, stretching to allow her robe to fall completely away from her well-proportioned body.

Hank couldn't take his eyes off her as he backed to the door. He tripped over a satin slipper, falling onto the deep, luxurious carpet. Grace sprang to cover his prone form.

* * * * * * * * *

"Wanda, get in here now!" growled Chalmers. Silence met him from the other end of the intercom. "D****t, Wanda, I said get in here!"

Grant pushed his chair back with enough force to put yet another chip in the wallboard behind him. Long, slamming strides brought him to the door separating him from his secretary.

"Stupid broad. Since her old lady died, I can hardly get her to work." He jerked the door open and stomped into the reception area. It was empty.

"Wanda!" he screamed, his voice rising in his anger. "Probably in the bathroom. Damn women! Always gotta powder their noses. Well, not right now, she doesn't!"

Grant hammered on the ladies room door. "Wanda, if you're in there, you'd better be out in the next ten seconds, or your butt is fired!" To emphasize his words, he slammed the bathroom door open so hard the cheap wood cracked around the top hinge. Satisfied with his performance, he returned to the outer office to wait for the wayward Wanda.

She didn't come back. In a rage, Grant returned to his own office to find not Wanda, but a stunning Grace Howard seated in his chair with her back to him. She turned with a gentle smile.

"Having a bad day, Mr. Chalmers?"

Grant attempted to pull himself under control. Straightening his tie he stood at an uncomfortable disadvantage without his desk and chair as props. After what seemed like forever, he felt anger's infusion of blood recede from his face.

"What are you doing in here, Mrs. Howard? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for the first viewing? I sent Hank to tell you."

"Yes, Hank and I had a short discussion, but I insisted on seeing you before anyone got here. I hope you don't mind. I have something that must be taken care of prior to any agreements with outsiders."

"I don't understand. You've signed your contract. You know the stipulations. There isn't anything else to do except pick out the persons to whom you'll donate your organs. What do you mean by something else to be taken care of?"

"Well, Grant," she licked her lips after whispering his name. "I'm afraid I've arrived under false pretenses. I won't be donating any organs, but I think we can arrange for a replacement. Of course, the replacement might not be in the same condition I am."

Grant felt perspiration trickling down his face and back. His silk shirt lost its desired softness and became an annoying, clinging thing adding to his discomfort.

"What in the hell are you talking about? We don't do replacements. You've signed an unbreakable contract, so get back to your room and wait for the first viewers."

"You don't understand, Grant," a grating giggle escaped her luscious red lips. "I'm here to close your operation down."

The release of the tension brought a snort of laughter to Chalmers. "By whose orders? You don't have the authority to shut me down! You don't even know who you're messing with, lady. Get back to your room before I have to drag you back."

"You can try..." The last word crackled with an invitation Grant couldn't resist. His favorite pastime was beating his sex partners. He moved with animal ease around the desk to where Grace sat, his arm outstretched to pull her upright by the throat.

His scream bellowed forth ending in a child's sobs when she handed his arm back after removing it from the socket. He threw his head back in agony. Her fangs ripped his throat out in one satisfying bite.

Wanda walked into the office.

She stood watching the creature poised over her boss for several seconds before breaking into braying, manic laughter. The woman turned to the secretary. Grace regained her human form before reaching for Wanda.

"Get out of here and don't look back. By the way, thanks for letting former President Barton know what was happening to the project she started. She sends her regards." Grace wiped the blood from her mouth and hands onto Chalmers silk jacket. "You'll be picked up tonight and taken where no one can find you. Meanwhile, I have a few more ends to clear here."

"W-w-w-what are you?" squeaked Wanda.

"I'm the government's way of closing down projects that get out of hand."

"You l-l-look l-l-like a vam-"

"Vampire? Yes, I suppose I am. Why do you think my physical came back so good?"

"B-b-but it's daylight! And you couldn't pass a physical without a heartbeat and if you're a v-v-vampire, don't you have to be dead?"

"Honey, you read too many books. Get out - now! Unless, of course, you'd like to be my next project to close down."

Wanda grabbed her purse and ran.

Gliding down the hall, Grace came to her room. Hank greeted her upon her arrival. He still lay on the floor, a look of terror in eyes that darted madly from side to side.

"Now, darling, where were we? Oh, yes, if I recall, you are the special on my menu today." She sank her fangs into the throbbing vein of his neck. A needle slid out from under her middle fingernail. She jabbed Hank's arm to release him from the paralysis. She so enjoyed a feisty meal.  

Author's Note

Does this flow smoothly?

Reviews

[Joe]

I really enjoyed this story! Really great idea and very nice twist at the end. It flows pretty good, but I think some more spacing and a little more description wouldn't hurt. Parts like when Beth calls Eternally Yours where the scene jumps ahead a bit might be made slightly more fluid with a little more description, or maybe a break.

Again, this was a great story!