Night Town: Harvester

She was an organ harvester of Night Town. She carried a scalpel constantly and often her goggles would become spattered with blood. It was imperative that she work quickly before the other Harvesters got to the body. Storage was a challenge. Sometimes she took extra for herself. Those in the Will would know where everything was when the time came. She never took their blood. In fact, it was just a mess and awful to get through. That was left for the Feeders. Good thing she didn't have to inhale the scent of internal organs. That is what her portable Engine of Joy was for. Occasionally, her ribs would feel like they were cracking. 'Pray that I can build a body out of this,' she said sometimes to the quiet or absorbed Night Town Peons. 'Otherwise, they will kill me.' They had no reason to care, though they did more than other harvesters would. Sometimes they laughed softly at her. Sometimes an old Peon would crease his brow in pity and then walk quickly by.

It was a new meaning to "Rest well, denizens..." In this daytime-less world all that she saw were pulsing red lights under streetlights under uninhabited beds that would never again be slept in. When she wished for sleep, all she could feel were her knuckles wrapped, threaded, through the holes in the chain-link fence. The fence that divided the Masters and Collectors from the Harvesters, the Peons, the Spangler Danglers and the Street Sirens. The breathers with splayed limbs, staggering, knock-kneed.

She remembered the picture of something braided, all white pieces, then white, pulsing. Then dark.