Lovecraft, H P & Rimel, Duane - The Disinterment

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The Disinterment

by H. P. Lovecraft & Duane W. Rimel

Written 1935

I awoke abruptly from a horrible dream and stared wildly about. Then, seeing the high,

arched ceiling and the narrow stained windows of my friend's room, a flood of uneasy

revelation coursed over me; and I knew that all of Andrews' hopes had been realized. I

lay supine in a large bed, the posts of which reared upward in dizzy perspective; while on

vast shelves about the chamber were the familiar books and antiques I was accustomed to

seeing in that secluded corner of the crumbling and ancient mansion which had formed

our joint home for many years. On a table by the wall stood a huge candelabrum of early

workmanship and design, and the usual light window-curtains had been replaced by

hangings of somber black, which took on a faint, ghostly luster in the dying light.

I recalled forcibly the events preceding my confinement and seclusion in this veritable

medieval fortress. They were not pleasant, and I shuddered anew when I remembered the

couch that had held me before my tenancy of the present one - the couch that everyone

supposed would be my last. Memory burned afresh regarding those hideous

circumstances which had compelled me to choose between a true death and a

hypothetical one - with a later re-animation by therapeutic methods known only to my

comrade, Marshall Andrews. The whole thing had begun when I returned from the Orient

a year before and discovered, to my utter horror, that I had contracted leprosy while

abroad. I had known that I was taking grave chances in caring for my stricken brother in

the Philippines, but no hint of my own affliction appeared until I returned to my native

land. Andrews himself had made the discovery, and kept it from me as long as possible;

but our close acquaintance soon disclosed the awful truth.

At once I was quartered in our ancient abode atop the crags overlooking crumbling

Hampden, from whose musty halls and quaint, arched doorways I was never permitted to

go forth. It was a terrible existence, with the yellow shadow hanging constantly over me;

yet my friend never faltered in his faith, taking care not to contract the dread scourge, but

meanwhile making life as pleasant and comfortable as possible. His widespread though

somewhat sinister fame as a surgeon prevented any authority from discovering my plight

and shipping me away.

It was after nearly a year of this seclusion - late in August - that Andrews decided on a

trip to the West Indies - to study "native" medical methods, he said. I was left in care of

venerable Simes, the household factotum. So far no outward signs of the disease had

developed, and I enjoyed a tolerable though almost completely private existence during

my colleague's absence. It was during this time that I read many of the tomes Andrews

had acquired in the course of his twenty years as a surgeon, and learned why his

reputation, though locally of the highest, was just a bit shady. For the volumes included

any number of fanciful subjects hardly related to modern medical knowledge: treatises

and unauthoritative articles on monstrous experiments in surgery; accounts of the bizarre

The Disinterment

effects of glandular transplantation and rejuvenation in animals and men alike; brochures

on attempted brain transference, and a host of other fanatical speculations not

countenanced by orthodox physicians. It appeared, too, that Andrews was an authority on

obscure medicaments; some of the few books I waded through revealing that he had spent

much time in chemistry and in the search for new drugs which might be used as aids in

surgery. Looking back at those studies now, I find them hellishly suggestive when

associated with his later experiments.

Andrews was gone longer than I expected, returning early in November, almost four

months later; and when he did arrive, I was quite anxious to see him, since my condition

was at last on the brink of becoming noticeable. I had reached a point where I must seek

absolute privacy to keep from being discovered. But my anxiety was slight as compared

with his exuberance over a certain new plan he had hatched while in the Indies - a plan to

be carried out with the aid of a curious drug he had learned of from a native "doctor" in

Haiti. When he explained that his idea concerned me, I became somewhat alarmed;

though in my position there could be little to make my plight worse. I had, indeed,

considered more than once the oblivion that would come with a revolver or a plunge from

the roof to the jagged rocks below.

On the day after his arrival, in the seclusion of the dimly lit study, he outlined the whole

grisly scheme. He had found in Haiti a drug, the formula for which he would develop

later, which induced a state of profound sleep in anyone taking it; a trance so deep that

death was closely counterfeited - with all muscular reflexes, even the respiration and

heart-beat, completely stilled for the time being. Andrews had, he said, seen it

demonstrated on natives many times. Some of them remained somnolent for days at a

time, wholly immobile and as much like death as death itself. This suspended animation,

he explained further, would even pass the closest examination of any medical man. He

himself, according to all known laws, would have to report as dead a man under the

influence of such a drug. He stated, too, that the subject's body assumed the precise

appearance of a corpse - even a slight rigor mortis developing in prolonged cases.

For some time his purpose did not seem wholly clear, but when the full import of his

words became apparent I felt weak and nauseated. Yet in another way I was relieved; for

the thing meant at least a partial escape from my curse, an escape from the banishment

and shame of an ordinary death of the dread leprosy. Briefly, his plan was to administer a

strong dose of the drug to me and call the local authorities, who would immediately

pronounce me dead, and see that I was buried within a very short while. He felt assured

that with their careless examination they would fail to notice my leprosy symptoms,

which in truth had hardly appeared. Only a trifle over fifteen months had passed since I

had caught the disease, whereas the corruption takes seven years to run its entire course.

Later, he said, would come resurrection. After my interment in the family graveyard -

beside my centuried dwelling and barely a quarter-mile from his own ancient pile - the

appropriate steps would be taken. Finally, when my estate was settled and my decease

widely known, he would secretly open the tomb and bring me to his own abode again,

still alive and none the worse for my adventure. It seemed a ghastly and daring plan, but

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TheDisintermentTheDisintermentbyH.P.Lovecraft&DuaneW.RimelWritten1935Iawokeabruptlyfromahorribledreamandstaredwildlyabout.Then,seeingthehigh,archedceilingandthenarrowstainedwindowsofmyfriend'sroom,afloodofuneasyrevelationcoursedoverme;andIknewthatallofAndrews'hopeshadbeenrealized.Ilaysupineinalargeb...

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