Habeas Corpus: Black Womb (Black Womb Collection Book 1)

by Matthew LeDrew

  Adam and Alpha had revealed to him the truth about what he was, about what he was made for. He was a killer. A soulless, guiltless killer designed to jump start humanity’s evolution by slaughtering the weak to bring about a new age. He’d been rescued at a young age and had grown up here, in a quiet place in Maine that was barely able to classify itself as a city, but was more like a not-so-small small town. Something had set him off a month back and his real face, the Black Womb, had emerged for the first time and killed everything he’d ever loved. It had killed her, taken her light away. In her place, the Womb had embedded itself, filling his heart with black and pain and blood.

  He stopped walking seven inches from his door. He closed his eyes tight and made one last wish for it all to just go away, sighing a desperate prayer for it to work this time. When he opened his eyes again, it hadn’t worked. Of course it hadn’t worked. Sara wouldn’t be shimming up the storm drain or scuffing her knees as she got in through the window to wake him up. He wouldn’t have the chance to say, “You spend all your time on your knees anyway” as he often had, much to her chagrin. They wouldn’t sneak downstairs and steal his mother’s waffles again, and she wouldn’t tell him that she loved him.

  Not that they’d ever done any of those things anyway, but in the time since her death he’d allowed his mind to wander, imagining conversations that could very well have happened if he’d had the courage to start them while she’d been alive.

  He gave her one more minute to come in, then unlocked his door with a rusted squeak, turned the handle, and walked out into the light.

  Xander stared up at the bus stop in front of him, its metal dented and bent from years of beatings from the harsh Maine winters and the diligence of bored, destructive teenagers. It rattled against its pole as the wind around it picked up, sending a steady and constant rapping sound squealing through the air.

  His dark auburn hair baying against the wind, Xander watched the sign fight against its bolts but never really get anywhere.

  Lately, he felt much the same way.

  His hands were buried deep inside his jeans pockets even though he didn’t feel the chill of the breeze. He did not feel it, but he was aware of it. He gave the spearmint gum in his mouth another chew before shifting it back to its place between his cheek and his teeth, still just looking up at the sign and squinting against the rising sun behind it.

  The imprint of the sunbeams stayed on his retinas for a moment, an anamorphous blob in the centre of his vision. He heard the mumble of distant speech and clicking heels, but when he turned to see who it was, the purple and yellow blob was still there and blocked his line of sight.

  “Xander!” called a familiar voice, one so sweet that it almost left the taste of sugar on your lips when you heard it.

  He could now clearly identify two sets of footsteps coming toward him, one keeping its regular pace and one coming at him a little bit faster. Hearing the double-click, he could tell that the faster person was wearing heels. When the wind changed, he caught the scent of orange-oil perfume cascading onto him from afar and now he knew exactly who was coming toward him. In truth, he’d known from the second she said his name.

  Catherine Kennessy threw her arms around Xander, hanging off him as she held him close. She’d been doing that a lot over the last few days, ever since Sara had died. It was just another of those reminders that was meant to be pleasant but always ended with him having a bad taste in the back of his mouth.

  For his part, Xander forced a smile, but did not squeeze her back or even put his arms around her. They stayed limp at his sides until she was done and she plopped back down in front of him. She had to look up at him, her eyes about a half-foot lower than his. The blurb on his eyes was gone now and he could see all of her soft beauty as it stared up at him. Her shoulder length near-black hair came down straight on either side of her porcelain face, like a frame for her large brown eyes. Her lips were small, red and always glimmering, even when there was no light for them to glimmer off of. She was wearing a black blouse and blue jeans that looked far too big for her. The jeans were fine, but he had never seen her wear black before. It had been the same blouse she had worn to the funeral. Or funerals, more appropriately. He hoped that it would not find its way back into her regular wardrobe rotation.

  “How are you doing today?” she asked sympathetically, stroking his arm.

  A million different answers flooded his mind all at the same time. After a moment he just shrugged and turned his attention back toward the bus stop, avoiding eye contact with his friend.

  “I’m fine,” he said, when he realized she wasn’t going to look away.

  She shook her head, having to accept an answer she knew wasn’t true but making a mental note to bring it up later. That was what Cathy was, when you boiled away everything else. She had to make sure everyone else’s life was going good, even when her own was in shambles around her ears. “What did you do last night?”

  Xander got a flash of memory before it was gone again, his face wincing. Again, he didn’t answer.

  “Me and Mike rented some old movies and stayed up late over at my place. Have you seen Ferris Beuler’s Day Off? I think it’s really good, but Mike hated it. Thought it was the worst thing he’d ever seen.”

  Again Xander got caught in a memory, this one clearer than the last. It was of him and Sara sitting next to each other on her couch, munching on popcorn and watching Ferris Beuler riding the parade float and singing at the top of his lungs, with all of the people around him dancing and cheering. He could see Sara laughing as if she were the one standing in front of him instead of Cathy. “Never saw it,” he said after some hesitation. His voice was almost a whisper.

  Michael Harris stepped up behind his girlfriend finally, having taken his time catching up with her. He nodded curtly to Xander, who reciprocated the greeting.

  “Lord,” Cathy said. She rolled her eyes as she watched the both of them, then smiled. “You two would communicate with just grunts if you could, wouldn’t you?”

  “We’d use the occasional hand gesture, too,” Mike chuckled in defense, raising his hands comically. He laughed as she gave him a little slap on the arm, then turned back to Xander. “Did she ask you to break our little tie about the movie yet?”

  Xander just stared at him for a moment, as Cathy explained that he hadn’t even seen it. Mike made some kind of remark about that being for the best anyway, but Xander barely heard that. It was like the voices were under water as his mind slipped into a muddy daze and the world around him was pasted on a screen of moist paper towels, ready for him to rip through at any time. There was a prickling feeling on the tips of his fingers as that thought crossed his mind, and he buried them deeper into his pockets.

  Mike noticed and shot him a queer glance as he continued talking to Cathy. He stood almost over a head taller than Xander, making even the smallest such gesture have some measure of authority. His light blonde hair had been combed with his fingers that morning and still looked messy from a night spent on Cathy’s couch, his clothes ruffled and creased as they clung to his muscular body. He’d been one of the star runners for the Coral Beach Cougars until he’d quit last year, something that he rarely let people forget whenever he could fit it into the conversation. His face was kind and belied the power of his arms and torso, his heart-shaped freckled cheeks always wearing a warm and inviting smile that matched his bright blue eyes. Right now that smile was gone, replaced by a look of concern as he said something to Xander.

  Xander shook and snapped out of his daze.

  “Dude, are you okay?” Mike repeated, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  Xander looked at him and really saw him for the first time in what felt like days. “Yeah,” he said, looking from him to Cathy and then back again. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Mike frowned and threw a look at his girlfriend, who pouted her feelings as well. Both of them wanted to pry into what Xander was really feeling as much as he wanted to tell th
em, but somebody had to make that first step and no one would. “This bus is here,” Mike said, settling for giving his friend a heart-felt slap on the back as he turned toward the curb.

  Xander turned toward the bright yellow morning sun, finding that it was gone and that he was now in the shade of the large yellow vehicle. He zoned out again, briefly, lost in that solid yellow.

  After a moment he took a step back from it, his upper lip curling with fear and disdain.

  Cathy turned to him, her hand on the guardrail as she stepped onto the bus. “Xander?” she said finally, not sure of what else to say. There were so many different questions that everything seemed stupid and frivolous.

  He took another step away, then turned and started to walk in the other direction. After a few paces he picked up speed. By the time he got to the corner, he was running.

  Mike took a single step after him before Cathy stopped him, resting her hand gently on his shoulder. He turned to look at her and when he looked back, Xander was out of sight.

  “He’ll come to us on his own time,” she assured him, before heading onto the bus.

  Ninety minutes later Xander was staring up at two large wooden doors. They were old and at least three inches thick each. He felt dwarfed by the sheer size and magnitude of it all, the building’s very presence overwhelming him. It reminded him almost instantly of Engen.

  The building itself seemed to rise up out of nowhere. He hadn’t really noticed until just now, but the land was perfectly flat for miles in all directions surrounding it. The land sprung up into a grassy hill just to the side of it, with a tall chain-link fence encompassing both the structure and the hill. It was like even the earth was reaching for something.

  Twin steeples stabbed at the clouds and had a tendency to melt into the mist on foggy afternoons. Each one was adorned by a brass cross and stain-glass images whose eyes seemed to stare directly into him from their vantage point on the brick wall. He turned and looked at the golden plaque next to the door and read it. The words The Apostle Church were carved into its gold trim.

  Deep inside of him, amidst the blood and veins, the true Womb cringed. “Yeah,” Xander said aloud. “You would be intimidated by a Holy place, wouldn’t you, you sick son of a--”

  “My son?” came a voice from behind the door. A small peephole opened and soft, caring eyes peered out. “Are you not well?”

  Xander stared into those eyes for a moment. “No,” he said finally after a long pause. “I’m... sorry. To disturb you. I thought you were closed this time of day.”

  The door opened, revealing a kind-looking balding old man smiling warmly at him. His grin complimented his eyes, both of which were accented with laugh lines. His fingers were clasped together near the centre of his chest, their knuckles thick and swollen with arthritis. A purple sash draped down from either side of his neck, the ends embroidered with golden crosses. He didn’t just look holy, he felt it too. Holy and royal, somehow. His voice was soft and soothing, sending a cold chill through Xander when he spoke. “The doors to the Lord’s house are always open, my son,” the Reverend said, fanning his arms and making his robe dance. “Come.”

  Xander stepped inside cautiously, looking from one side of the old church to the other. Every step he made echoed back at him, making him want to cover his ears. There were even more glass people in here, their stares equally as judgmental as the ones outside. Their eyes didn’t just see through him, they sliced through him. Despite that, the creepiest things by far were the pews. For all of the times he had been there, he had never seen all of the seats empty before. It looked barren and wrong and far too still.

  The Reverend had walked up to an aged table set up near the back room and was currently pouring up two cups of coffee. He motioned for Xander to sit down.

  “Isn’t this traditionally done at a confession booth?” Xander joked, smirking at the old man.

  The Reverend’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted. “You have sins to confess?” he asked, almost shocked.

  “I’m not what you’d call a religious man.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Xander sat down. He took his coffee cup in one hand and chanced a sip on the hot liquid. It burned his tongue, and he felt the Womb veer up to repair the damage instantly. His eyes darted around the church nervously, always coming back to the visage of the Son of God upon the cross, hanging dead centre in the archway. He could still feel the spikes in his wrists from his own crucifixion, and felt a new empathy for the man on that tilted x. He looked at the kind old Reverend, who was smiling back at him expectantly, patiently waiting for the young man to speak.

  “I can see I’ll have to start,” the old man laughed. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  Xander smiled, but it was a fake smile. The smile that youth give to older people when they ask questions such as those. “That school’s got too many memories. Those old walls talk, y’know?”

  “Indeed.” He motioned all around him. “As do these walls. Often, late at night, I can hear the echoes of a thousand spirits.” He paused, staring Xander in the eye. “Recently, the voices of the dead have gotten louder.”

  Xander looked down toward his feet. “Yes, they have.” There was a pause then while they both sipped on their respective coffees. “I’m having... problems... telling my friends about the events of these past few weeks,” he admitted.

  The Reverend nodded. “I take it you lost someone close to you.”

  “Yeah. You don’t get much closer than... her.”

  The Reverend nodded again. “Find guidance in the Lord, my son. He will help you.”

  Xander took a sip of his java. “I feel like the Lord had abandoned me, Father. I feel like I’m alone.”

  “Have faith, my son,” the man said, touching him on the hand. “The Lord exists in all things. You may not find him here, but rather in a person. A loved one.”

  Xander took a last sip of his coffee, then put it down onto the table. He got up and began to walk towards the door. “Thank you, Father,” he said distantly.

  “My son,” the Reverend called after him, “do you know what you must do?”

  “I do,” he nodded.

  Xander crept through the halls of Coral Beach High, trying to keep a low profile. He ducked down to avoid being seen by Principal Shnieder, then quietly made his way into the male washroom. He kept his eyes peeled and constantly on watch for the principal, who was usually on hall patrol this time of day. Toward the end of the week he gave out detention slips like a traffic cop frantically trying to make quota.

  “What’s up?” came a loud voice from behind a stall.

  Xander nearly jumped out of his skin, turning quickly. “Derek!” he shouted, laughing at his own anxiety. He slapped his friend on the back heartily, which was returned. “It’s only you.”

  Derek nodded, smiling. “Only me.”

  There was an awkward pause between the two as Xander regained his breath. “So,” he drawled, pointing casually at Derek. “You got any clue where Cathy is?”

  Derek smiled. “Yeah. Biology. Where I’m supposed to be.”

  Xander thought for a minute. “Shit. That’s right next to Shnieder’s office.

  Derek waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “Naw, don’t worry. He’s letting people off who were friends of... y’know.”

  Xander nodded. “Oh.”

  Cathy was concentrating diligently, but if you had asked her the last word she wrote in her notebook she would not have been able to tell you if her life depended on it. She stared blankly at the page before her, and realized that she had replaced several key words in the last sentence with Sara’s name. She became disgusted with herself and closed her book, then turned to gaze out the open doorway.

  Xander poked his head in, grinning stupidly at her.

  She responded in kind, waving her fingers and brushing some hair out of her eyes.

  He motioned for her to join him.

  She reluctantly looked up at the teacher. “
Can I use the washroom, sir?”

  He smiled at her, “I certainly hope so.”

  She frowned miserably as the class laughed. The humor of the situation was lost on her. He motioned for her to leave and as she did, he called after her. “Cathy?”

  She turned. “Yes, sir?”

  “Tell Mr. Drew that he can’t go into the little girls’ room with you.”

  She smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  The three of them walked down the street in near absolute silence.

  Since they had gotten Mike from his physics class, Xander had barely spoken a word to either of them. He was just staring at the cracks in the sidewalk as they passed under his feet, not making eye contact with either of them.

  “If we’re going to The Factory, we should have brought Derek,” Mike said finally, motioning to the building that was just now becoming visible around the corner. He looked disappointed and anguished that he had forgotten about his friend, but still began to pat his pockets to make sure he had some quarters.

  “That’s... no,” Xander stammered, looking in their direction for the first time but still not making eye contact with either. “That’s not why we’re here.”

  Cathy sighed. If he had been able to look at her then, Xander would have seen pity resonating toward him from his friend’s face. She could see the weight he carried, but not what it was. She knew that Sara was a big part of it... but there was something else, too. Something secret that he carried on his own and she hated him for it. She got in between the two boys, then reached out to touch Xander’s chin and force him to look at her.

  He jerked away, putting an extra foot between Cathy’s path and his own, now walking on the faded grass beside the sidewalk.

  “If you’re gonna drag us out of class to talk to us, the least you could do is talk to us,” she huffed.

  Mike chuckled at her exasperation. He leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the temple as they walked. She smiled, then let out a single puff of air by way of a laugh.