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And so Chase had moved into the bedsit; inhabiting one room in a house full of students that played music till late in the night. The sickly sweet smell of drugs also filled the air, and Chase often had to go for long walks to clear her head.
Even though she had wrapped the blanket around herself, Chase still shivered. Today was one of those days to go for a walk. It was often warmer outside than it was in as the room she occupied was North facing and cold as the Arctic Circle.
She pulled a coat over her flowery maternity dress and wandered out of the house. She was right, it was warmer outside and she ended up having to take the coat off. She waddled more than walked these days, every movement an effort. She had never bloomed during her pregnancy and the last four months had been miserable; she likened herself to Leonard Rossiter who played Rigsby in Rising Damp as she pushed her stomach out, supporting her lower back with her hands. She suffered stomach cramp, had to use the toilet a lot because of the pressure; she also leaked when she coughed, sneezed, or when she laughed (which wasn’t very often), her knees hurt, her back hurt, and although she had suffered from vivid nightmares about the condition of the unborn baby, she had been told time and again that it was healthy and that there were no problems for her to worry about. They said her fears were only natural. Everyone had them. Chase wasn’t convinced. Was paranoia part of pregnancy as well? Since leaving the village she was haunted by the feeling of being followed, but there was never anyone there. She looked at everyone with mistrust, not knowing how far the corruption had spread. She was slowly getting over it, and she knew that it would be a while before she was back to her usual self, but that didn’t help dispel the hair-prickling notion.
Even though she hadn’t been in Paradise for that long, it was strange to see traffic again. And although she now only had a small portable television, she wondered how people had coped before John Logie Baird invented the window on the world. It had spawned a planet of voyeurs who peered into the fishbowl lives of other people and communication had died beneath its spell.
She still read the newspapers, often second hand when the students had finished with them, as she couldn’t afford to buy one everyday. But there was never any mention of Paradise and the strange circumstances surrounding it, which didn’t really surprise her. Also, she now had a deep mistrust of letters and the postman. She had letters lying in her hallway that were three months old, but she daren’t even touch them to throw them away. Her one highlight of the day had become her one nightmare.
The only people to come out of this mess stronger were Ratty and Izzy who became inseparable. Although there was a restraining order on her, Chase still kept in contact with them by telephone.
At the end of the road, she suddenly had hunger pangs and she licked her lips. Noticing she was next to the mini-mart, she stepped inside the cool interior, the bright fluorescent strip lights stinging her eyes as she wandered along the aisles of produce. Since Paradise she only ate organic food. It was more expensive, and her Social Security cheque hardly covered the household bills, but she thought it was worth it for peace of mind.
She wandered past the tins of beans and spaghetti, and into the next aisle where the jars of baby food were stacked. She often gasped at the price of it, wondering how on earth she was going to afford to keep a baby, never mind feed it. Of course she could have had a termination, but then she would have been just as bad as Moon. She had told him that she couldn’t take a life, any life, and she’d meant it. She was worrying about nothing. Of course everything was going to be all right. Why shouldn’t it be?
A teenager sat on the ground further along, tearing open a cardboard box of items to put on the shelves.
As she approached the shelf-stacker, he looked up at her and smiled. Chase smiled back, but then she noticed what he had in his hand and a sudden chill raced down her spine: Baby food in white, nondescript cans and jars. Chase felt dizzy, the supermarket beginning to spin around her, the walls closing in, squeezing so tight that she couldn’t breathe. She clutched her swollen belly as the unborn baby gave her a painful kick.
“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his face showing concern.
Chase couldn’t reply. They were going to start with the babies, with the still developing children – catch them when they were young. That damned idiot, Moon was turning the whole country into a test lab.
She dropped to her knees, screaming as her waters broke; the baby was coming, but it was too early. The pain felt unbearable.
“Someone, help,” the young man shouted, looking alarmed as Chase crouched on the ground.
“It’s okay, I’m a doctor.”
“Thank god,” the young man said, moving aside.
Chase looked up. She recognised the voice straight away. It had haunted her for four long months.
Moon looked down, an anxious smile on his lips. Drake stood behind him, emotionless.
“You didn’t think I would just let you go, did you?” Moon scoffed, crouching down beside her. “Yours shall be the first; it shall not be the last. This is the dawning of a new age of evolution, and I had to know ...”
As Chase’s progeny clawed its way into the world, it screamed almost as much as its mother.
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About the author:
Shaun Jeffrey was brought up in a house in a cemetery, so it was only natural for his prose to stray towards the dark side when he started writing. He has had three novels published, 'The Kult', 'Deadfall' and 'Evilution', and one collection of short stories, 'Voyeurs of Death'. Among his other writing credits are short stories published in Cemetery Dance, Surreal Magazine, Dark Discoveries and Shadowed Realms. The Kult was optioned for film by Gharial Productions.
Visit the author's site at: http://www.shaunjeffrey.com