Authors: James Roy Daley
When the doorbell rang, Kate was cleaning up the kitchen and Jennifer was, unfortunately, in the hospital. She had been having problems with her pregnancy––reoccurring pains were getting worst as time moved on.
The last batch of agony was almost four weeks ago, three and a half weeks into her second trimester. It lasted nearly three days. During that time she found herself buckled over on the floor, screaming at the top of her lungs, one hand clutching her belly, the other tightened into a fist that was pounding on the hardwood like a jackhammer. And although Kate was absolutely furious with her, Jennifer wouldn’t visit the doctor until well after the pain had subsided. Kate didn’t understand why; she
couldn’t
understand why. And Jennifer couldn’t explain it. But deep inside she knew something was terribly askew in a way that made her feel nauseous with fright. The child inside her body was scaring the hell of her, not just because of the pain she felt but also because of the atrocious thoughts that had been swirling around inside her head like a cyclone.
Jennifer was having nightmares––
terrible
nightmares on a nightly basis. She kept thinking about
Rosemary’s Baby
, not the movie but the book. She had started reading it the day before she told Richard she was pregnant. She finished it forty-five minutes before the policemen gave her the news. Being the type of person that enjoyed Christmas stories in December and spooky stories on Halloween, she thought it’d be fun to read Ira Levin while pregnant. How unfortunate. Now her days were spent wondering if she’d find herself surrounded by doctors and nurses that were chanting “Hail Satan” after she gave birth to a child with a forked tail, little horns, and eyes that belonged to a goat.
When Jennifer finally found the courage to have her herself examined––a full week after she was sprawled out on the floor, kicking, screaming, and drowning in pain––the doctors were seriously concerned. Not just for the welfare of the unborn child but for Jennifer as well. For reasons they couldn’t explain Jennifer’s uterus had been torn in several places and she was bleeding internally. She also had bruises on her fallopian tubes, a pair of swollen ovaries, and a cracked rib. Needless to say, she was at risk of losing the baby. Worst than that, her life seemed to be in jeopardy as well.
Her stay in the hospital lasted for five days. During that time she had two minor operations. After that, Dr. P. Hollis, the head physician, made her promise that she’d return immediately if the abnormal pain started to flare up again. She agreed.
Earlier in the day the pain returned. And although she was afraid to have the baby examined while the aches were progressing, the fear of the unknown had taken control of the situation. She left for the hospital alone, informing Kate by phone hours after she arrived.
Kate swung the door open without looking through the window. Had she looked, things would have played out differently.
Richard was there, leaning a dislocated shoulder against the wall. He looked bad. Beyond bad. His back was twisted; his neck was broken. The top half of his skull had been crushed like an orange that had been stepped on by a very large foot. Both of his eyes were still in place, but one had turned dark and the other sat deep within its damaged socket. Parts of his brain bulged through a long crack in his face and his bottom lip had been torn free.
Kate stepped back, fingers on her mouth, eyes like baseballs. Her jaw dropped as her heart rate accelerated. She was going to scream––
had
to scream, because screaming was the only logical thing to do.
Surely, this
couldn’t
be Richard. It
couldn’t
be the man she considered a perfect match for her sister. Not him.
She looked away from his face.
Hanging from his shattered frame was a suit that must have been worn by the Incredible Hulk because it was tattered and frayed in ways that didn’t make sense. The pale, dehydrated skin on Richard’s hands seemed to belong on a living corpse. More so when he lifted those hands––hands that were covered in a thin layer of dirt, hands that were connected to arms with unnatural looking joints and elbows, hands that were reaching out.
Oh God, he was reaching out.
Kate’s mouth was still wide open, but the scream she was looking for was hiding deep inside. Soon she’d find it, and when she did she would set it free. She would––
“Wait,” Richard said. He tried to smile but with half his teeth smashed out he looked absolutely ghastly. “Please wait. Don’t scream. I’m still alive… so help me, Kate. For the love of God, help me.”
“Oh shit,” Kate said, staggering back another foot. Her hand remained on her mouth; her bottom lip began to quiver. “What the hell is this?”
“I’m not dead… I was
never
dead.” Richard dragged his left foot forward. His balance was reassigned and his right foot followed. The movement alone looked painful. “Help me come inside.”
Just like that, Kate started crying. She couldn’t help it. Her body was shaking and her knees trembled and full-sized tears were running down her cheeks. Had she not just used the bathroom she may have suffered an accident. To say Richard’s presence was making her nervous would be like saying a pitchfork in the face might leave a mark.
She babbled, “But… but…”
“Help me Kate, I mean it.” Richard slumped into the house and tossed a broken arm around his sister-in-law.
Kate screamed then. It slipped out before she knew it would happen. She screamed long and loud and when she was finished she screeched, “Oh, I’m sorry. Oh Richard, I’m
so
sorry. What do you want me to do?”
“Help me get to bed… and I need some water.”
Despite the way he looked, and despite the fact that he smelled worse than death, Kate helped Richard into the bedroom and assisted him onto the bed. Doing so made her skin crawl, but what else could she do? Running away was possible, but this was
Richard
. He was family
and
friend. And most of all, he was in dire need of help. Besides, the notion of running came with an unsettling side-thought:
what if he chased her? What would happen then?
Once Richard was settled Kate turned away, planning to fetch the water. Mostly she just wanted to be somewhere else, away from him, away from the monster.
Richard grabbed her by the arm. “Where’s Jennifer?”
Still terrified, Kate said, “At the hospital. I was on my way to see her.” This wasn’t entirely true but in another thirty minutes it would’ve been.
“Why?”
“She’s having complications with her pregnancy.”
Richard mumbled, “I bet she is.” Then he looked out the window, sizing up the darkening sky. “Do you know what time is it?”
“Seven-thirty? Maybe eight?”
Richard groaned. “Listen, Kate. Listen to my words and hear me well. Don’t tell anyone I’m here. Don’t call the doctors; don’t phone the police. Don’t explain things to your husband and don’t go yapping to your father. It’s got to be our little secret, Kate. You understand me? Nobody can know I’m back.”
“But why?!” Kate’s emotions were getting pulled in every direction now. She felt like laughing and screaming and yanking the hair from her head in bunches. “You need help, Richard! You need medical attention right away!”
“No!”
“Are you serious?! Look at you, Richard! You look like a––” She was going to say that he looked like a goddamn stiff but instead she asked: “What happened? I was at the funeral, you know… I was there!”
Richard coughed. Greenish-brown pus-like drool dribbled along the place his bottom lip should have been. He said, “Me too. I was inside that fucking box, Kate. Inside the coffin, unable to move, unable to scream.” Richard paused. His thoughts twisted this way and that. Suddenly he wanted to explain everything. He wanted to tell her that he was alive when they scraped him off the road, and when they brought him into the morgue and embalmed him. He wanted her to know that he was alive when they boxed him up and covered him in dirt. He wanted her to understand what type of man he
really
was, and that he couldn’t be killed in traditional ways. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to explain. Choosing his words carefully, he said, “They thought I was dead, and I might have
looked
dead, but a car accident can’t kill me. Not ever. And in time I get better. I
always
get better.”
Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was impossible. It was
insane
. But she knew what she was
seeing
, and what she was seeing had to be some type of sick joke. She asked, “How can this be happening?”
“Doesn’t matter. What happened to Steven?”
“Who?”
“Steve, the––”
Kate realized what Richard was asking. She said, “Oh. He died in the accident.” As an after-thought, she added, “With you.”
Richard’s thoughts turned a corner. He wondered if Steven was still trapped in his coffin, scratching the silk, trying to get out. He pushed the thoughts aside and said, “You’ve got to call Jennifer… tell her to come home right away. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course, I’ll call her right now. But Richard, what in God’s name should I tell her?”
“Tell her to come home. If she wants to know why, say I need to talk with her. It’s very important.”
* * *
When Jennifer hung up the phone her face had become pale.
Richard was back. He was alive. He wanted her to come home. It was important.
She couldn’t believe it.
Alone in her hospital room, she pulled herself from bed and dressed quickly. She ran her fingers through hair that no longer looked stylishly brave, but messy and without a hint of fashion sense. She made for the exit with her shoes untied, her skirt on sideways, and her travel bag hanging wide open. A car-ride later she shuffled through the front door of her home, sun setting in the west, moon rising in the east, clutching her belly with her fingers.
The child was kicking; the pain was getting worse. If it didn’t soon subside she was going to find herself buckled over on the floor, screaming bloody murder. Again.
As she staggered down the hallway towards (her late husband) Richard, the bedroom door blasted open and Kate stepped into view. Her eyes were entirely different now. They looked swollen and red, like she had been screwing her fists into her sockets for the last five years.
She grabbed Jennifer by the shoulders and said, “You need to brace yourself.”
“Let me see him.”
“No! Listen to me Jenn; you need to prepare for what you’re about to see. Richard is back, but he looks bad. He looks
really
fucking bad.”
Jennifer cringed. She hadn’t heard her sister use the F word since she was fourteen years old. She said, “I’ll be alright.”
“Brace yourself! I’m not kidding about this.”
Jennifer pushed Kate away forcefully and plowed into the room. She figured she’d be able to handle it. No problem. She was a grown woman, for crying out loud. Besides, how bad could it be?
Richard was on the bed. His body was angled unnaturally and his suit was covered in dirt. Chunks of brain were resting on the pillow. A large bug ran across the sheets as another scurried up the wall. To summarize, he looked like an embalmed corpse that had been smashed to pieces with a sledgehammer and pulled from the earth he’d been buried in. And Jennifer, truth be told, didn’t brace herself for what she was about to see; she didn’t brace for anything.
“Oh my God!” she shrieked, with eyes growing wide. “Richard, is that you?”
Looking like a zombie, he said, “Listen to me, baby-doll. This is critical.”
The thing living inside Jennifer kicked.
She staggered, clutching her belly.
At the same moment, Richard felt his spine expand. He said, “You need to kill the baby inside you. You need to do it right now. Get a clothes hanger; push it in. Abort the child.”
Kate stepped into the room, quite literally trembling and pulling at her hair. She said, “What are you talking about… abort the child?
Now?!
What the hell is happening here?!”
Richard’s knees popped and his shoulders buckled. His teeth elongated as his fingers turned to claws. “Hurry!” he managed. “Before it’s too late!”
Eyes on her husband, Jennifer groaned. She could feel something chewing her apart. Then her knees faltered and she dropped to the floor. Pressing her back against the nearest wall, her body convulsed. Not once, but three times quickly.
“My baby,” she whimpered.
She ripped open her blouse; buttons popped in different directions. Looking at her stomach, and seeing the strange way the child was moving beneath her skin, she almost understood.
Almost.
Then when she looked at Richard an important piece of the puzzle clicked into position. It felt like a hard slap in the face, and it was horrifying. She had a monster living inside her, a goddamn monster, trying to get out––Richard’s child.
And Richard was––
Gone.
In his place was something most people will never see: half man, half wolf, bones mending, muscles growing, nose becoming snout, arms becoming legs, hair morphing into fur, hands turning into paws, eyes still green, still the windows to the soul of a man that’s able to comprehend the situation. But his mouth was growing larger and more dangerous with each passing moment. Teeth seemed to be everywhere. Jaws opened far too wide and words escaped like hostages. They were hard to recognize, but much harder to ignore: “Abort. The child.”
Kate, standing in the center of the room with her hands in the air, looked away from Richard in horror. She saw Jennifer leaning against the wall with her blouse pulled open and her skirt hiked up. Her knees were shaking and her pink underwear had turned red. She had one hand cradling her belly as blood leaked from a long tear in her skin, through her trembling fingers, over her wedding ring (a ring she couldn’t bring herself to remove), and across her unpainted nails. She said, “Please Kate, Richard’s right. Get a clothes hanger. Help me abort the child.”