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

by Matthew LeDrew

  “But that was just the one time,” she reasoned, something that brought immense disappointment to him. She frowned at her incompetence and general stupidity on the subject, but how was she supposed to know anything about transforming, anyway? “Maybe you’re nervous?” she tried again, only to be hailed with another look from Xander. She hated that look. It sank into her, and made her feel like nothing. Less than nothing... less than human. Like the way Grendel and the boys at school would look at her and make her feel.

  “I need to get this down,” he said flatly, ending the argument. “I have to learn to transform if I’m ever going to do anything about those idiots Al and Raine. If anyone deserves to see the true me, it’s those two.” He paused and stared himself down in the mirror. “Spider said pain was my power...” he whispered to himself.

  “Was that before or after you killed her?” Cathy asked, confusion apparent in her dark eyes.

  “After,” he said, slapping a hand against the sink as if that were obvious.

  “Oh,” Cathy nodded. Then she stopped, thought about it, and crumpled her nose a little. “What?”

  He waved her off and continued to concentrate on the mirror. He thought of Sara, and the funeral, and those rapist bastards, and Grendel and Tommy and Sud... all of them. He let all the rage and hate and anger and sorrow fill up inside him, waiting for the Womb to fire up and let him reform. Into something. Anything. Even the slightest change controlled by his will would be a good start; if he was able to change his appearance like the Womb could, he wouldn’t have to worry about being recognized when he went out at night. That’s if I’m gonna keep this damn hero thing up, he thought doubtfully in the back of his mind, as he examined the bruised skin that was healing nicely around his eye. And it doesn’t seem like I can keep myself out of trouble.

  He felt the true Womb twitch again, then surge. What had he been thinking about? What had triggered it? It started to fade down again, as he struggled to find the right train of thought to jump aboard. Christ, he thought sickeningly. Sometimes I can’t stop this shit for overtaking me, but now I can’t seem to coax it out of its damned hole. What is with it?

  Cathy just watched him from her ice cold seat and twiddling her fingers. She glanced over at the tub curiously, seeing baby bath shampoo and toys there even though Xander had no siblings. The normally humorous sight did not help her now though, a barrage of images running through her head. “I try, y’know,” she said as she gazed down at the dark green floor tiles. They reflected her face in them, staring right back up at her. “I try to be good, and to think the happy thoughts, and to do whatever the hell else my parents, the guidance counsellor, and the frigging TeleTubbies say to do.” She buried her face into her palms, fighting to regain her composure as she forced the words out. “I haven’t been sleeping. That’s why I came over here last night, I needed to get away from my own bed. It doesn’t feel safe there anymore, y’know? Just knowing that Raine and Genblade and all the others know where it is... and Grendel, too.” She sighed. “I know he’s dead. Just like all the others. But I have these dreams... nightmares really, where he slips into my room late at night and...” She stifled a sob. “...Well, you know. And when I wake up, I’m never sure if I’m really awake. Like maybe, the real world is where I’m just his plaything and this is all just some stupid dream from my naive head. God knows, our lives lately aren’t realistic. They read like a comic book, for christsakes.” She paused for a long time then, staring at the yellow duck next to the soap on the edge of the tub. “He took it all away, Xander. The safety. I don’t feel safe here anymore. Not even around Mike. I’m just afraid that he’ll do it, too. I can’t even feel safe around you, and not just because of the Womb. Because you’re a man too and that makes me sound awful, and the fact that I don’t give a shit about Julie Peterson and her problems makes me sound awful and I am awful but I just don’t give a fuck!” she cursed, tears streaming down like rain now. “The worst part is knowing that it could all happen again, y’ know? That it will.” She stopped crying, becoming deathly quiet for a moment. “People don’t die all at once, y’ know. I’ll never believe that, no matter how many friends I bury. I think you die bit by bit over the years, each pain and loss slowly chipping away at your heart until there’s nothing left -- and then you just can’t take it anymore -- and then you die.” She stopped. She was looking at Xander’s feet, unable to bring herself to look into his eyes when she said this next part. She didn’t even want to say it, for it was a horrible thing to ask. But she simply couldn’t stop her lips from moving. “Well, if this isn’t what kills me... I don’t want to stick around and find out what does. I want to die, Xander. Kill me. Why not, you killed everything else...” she stopped and pursed her parched lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  He turned away from the mirror. “Sorry about what?” he asked coldly. “You say something?”

  Shock filled her eyes, as she realized he had not heard a word she had just said.

  “Be quiet a minute,” he said, raising a finger to her. “I think I almost got it.”

  Xander stared into the mirror, horrible thoughts filling his mind. His blood was pumping hard and it felt like it was too thick for his veins. Like the black blood.

  It was as if he was there -- that’s how vivid the memory of Engen was. He knew that was the key, it had to be. He could feel the heat of the reactor on his face as he raced against the clock to disarm it, Abner Jenkins -- The Alpha -- dying on the floor not far from where Xander stood, the murdering devil’s organs splattered out across the cold grates, blood filtering down through and landing on hot heating vents, creating a disgusting smell. He remembered the madman’s cries, and suddenly he could feel it. He could feel the change coming over him, the power.

  He opened his eyes again, trying not to lose the image of Alpha, his surrogate ‘father.’ He focused on a particular point on his face -- the upper cheek under his right eye -- where a scar had been ever since he was a child. When he focused on that area, it got very hot all of a sudden, as if he were burning a hole into it with his eyes. The skin seemed to boil, large bubbles forming there. It shrunk down until it disappeared into his face again, skin folding over the spot where the scar had been. The place where it no longer was.

  When he smiled, the skin quickly shifted back to the way it had been. Xander grunted impatiently, then tried again.

  This time, he felt something different. His entire face felt like it was on fire, smouldering with tiny boils that were popping up everywhere, covering his features.

  Cathy screamed as he fell to the floor, clutching at his face. He tried to withdraw his claws, but they would not come either, so he scratched at his face with his bare nails. When the boils finally stopped coming, they stayed. They’d reformed and folded his mouth and nose away, along with his left eye and both ears. His face was turning blue, and Cathy shook him by the shoulders, realizing suddenly that he could not breathe. She ran out into his room across the hall, grabbing a small blade that he had always kept there for god knows what reason. By the time she got back to the washroom he was going from blue to purple, with a little aquamarine around the corners of where his lips would be. She drew the blade back and stabbed him in the gut, right where his appendix would have been. The boils turned black then and melted off of him, leaving the same thin layer of congealed blood that accompanied every transformation.

  Pain is your power.

  He gasped for air, clutching his chest as breath filled his lungs and colour started to come back into his cheeks. For a moment it was all he could do not to have a heart attack, then he turned and grasped Cathy, bringing her into a hug. “Thank you,” he said honestly, kissing her neck softly. “I love you. Thank you.”

  She smiled, wrapping her arms around him gently and rocking him back and forth, his sweat dripping onto her shoulders and down her back again.

  “I know,” he said finally. He pushed her away and she saw that he was wide-eyed and looked crazed. “I know!�
� he shouted again, shaking her slightly.

  “Know what?” she demanded, palming both sides of his face and forcing him to look into her eyes. “What do you know?”

  “Why... I can’t,” he said in short gasps. “The explosion at Engen. I shouldn’t have survived that, the Womb’s still healing my body from it... it’s burnt out still, no power there. Not yet.”

  She nodded slowly. “That makes sense. How’d you figure that out?”

  “Spider told me, Cathy,” he said again, the sweat still pouring down and mixing with the blood now. “Spider told me that, and she said: pain is my power.” He crumpled his brow. “What does that mean?”

  Cathy shrugged solemnly, wishing she could help her friend more. “I don’t know.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  Then there was a knocking sound as the door was kicked in.

  “Get in the tub,” he said quietly, staring at the bathroom door. It was hanging open and swaying still from the force Cathy had used to open it. There was no lock on it; his mother had been bugging his father to get it fixed for weeks. All that was left was a few scraps of twisted metal where the lock had been. He looked across the hall at his bedroom door, and all the locks on that door. But the stairs were between the two and he could already hear their heavy, drunken footsteps on them.

  “What?” she whispered harshly, glancing over at the tub which simple age had stained a dark yellow. Her head seemed to be on a swivel. She wanted to look at the tub, but every time one of the criminal’s feet fell, her head snapped back in the direction of the door. Sweat was lining the edge of her hair now, making her bangs soak against her forehead. It did so in spirals, and if you looked at her the exact right way, she looked like an alien from Farscape or something like that. “No!” she blurted out, finally realizing his ‘master plan’. She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. “I won’t let you.”

  He grabbed her by the wrist, giving her a little shove in the general direction he wanted her to go. She nearly toppled over the side of the tub and beat her head off of the faucet. “Go,” he mouthed slowly. By this time, Xander could see Al and Raine’s shadows on his bedroom wall. It was unmistakable now; there was no question. Cathy still hadn’t moved, so he reached over and gave her a little nudge into the tub, pulling the curtain shut and hiding her presence.

  Xander crouched down, preparing himself. As soon as he saw their laughing, maniacal forms start to make their way up over the stairs, he bolted for his room. His feet flew along the floor he knew so well like wings, each impact sending a vibration through his body that irritated his bruises. That was alright, he knew there would be plenty more where they came from. As he passed by them he reached out and gave Raine a quick shove, nearly sending him toppling over the stairs. But the rapist steadied himself on the railing, and Al helped him regain balance from behind.

  Xander cursed softly to himself. His cheeks red and puffy from the sudden effort as he made his way to his bedroom door and opened it. He slammed it shut behind him, hearing their screams and protests, then quickly reached up and started to fiddle with the lock.

  Too late.

  They slammed on the door, forcing it into the young man’s face. Xander tumbled back, landing the arch of his back against the corner of his computer desk, of all places. Damn, he cursed again as he tried desperately to catch his wind and regain his footing. Unable to move, he watched both men enter the room like locusts, taking their places on either side of him. It was abundantly clear that, unlike in the movies, these two would not be coming at him one at a time and waiting for him to assure himself a victory.

  They lunged forward as one, each grabbing him by a shoulder just as they had done to Greer Donaldson, and probably Julie Peterson as well. Probably god only knew how many other people. They forced him down onto the floor and started slamming their fists and heels into his lower neck and jaw.

  “I’ll teach you, you son of a bitch!” Al laughed, as he picked up Xander’s wooden chair and slammed it across the boy’s face. Blood flew from Xander’s mouth and splattered against the wall, making a long red streak there. They were coming at him from both sides, with nary a space between blows. His head was so rattled he thought he could actually hear his brain bouncing around inside it, barely protected by the fluid therein. “Bastard!” Al screamed again, planting the soul of his boot squarely into Xander’s face.

  “Try to ruin our fun!” Raine chimed in, snatching up the knife that Xander had dropped and driving it deep into the child’s mid-section, puncturing a lung and coming a little too close to his heart for anybody’s comfort. “I know you did!”

  They finally slacked off, but Xander did not fight back. He fell to the floor in a heap, looking as dead as one could, blood seeping out of a swollen face that was so puffy in wasn’t recognizable as his own.

  Al laughed and cocked his head toward the hall. Raine got the idea and started to laugh as well. They both grabbed Xander by the shoulders again and carried him out of the room.

  The two of them dragged him into the bathroom, where Cathy watched in horror through the slits in the shower curtain as they started to dunk his head in the toilet, over and over again. They were trying to drown him, and were obviously very disappointed when they held him under for a full minute to little effect. Raine scooped up a bottle of Mr. Clean and shoved the nozzle into Xander’s battered mouth, then put as much pressure on the bottle as he could. The vile chemicals filled his lungs, burning them from the inside out.

  “No,” Cathy mouthed softly as she shifted back, watching her friend get beaten to what would surely be his death. She brought a hand to her mouth to stop from screaming, a hand that had been propping her up. She slipped a little on the slick porcelain, then caught herself... on the yellow rubber duck Xander had had since he was a child.

  -SQUEAK!-

  Everything stopped. Everything was silent. The only sounds were that of a few, solitary drops of blue liquid coming out of Xander’s nose, the only motion Al and Raine exchanging glances. Raine stared at the shower curtain for a long moment... then shrugged. Smiling at Al, the both of them again got Xander up, carried him to the stairs, and hurled him out over with all their combined might. He flew for just a moment, his eyes barely open, then he landed on his face with an earth-shattering crack! and flipped over onto his shoulder, which popped out of joint with a wet snap.

  Upstairs, Cathy stayed in the bathtub, huddled into herself until long after she was sure that Al and Raine were gone. Long after. When she started to hear the sounds of people taking their lunch breaks, which must have been hours after it had all begun, she decided to move. When she started down the stairs, Xander was still there. A pool of blood had grown around him in a roughly circular pattern. He didn’t seem to be breathing well. She ran to his side, wrapping her arms around him and forcing his head up onto her lap. He grunted in dismay, but said nothing else. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, stroking his blood-caked hair out of his eyes. And she cried.

  Because it’s not worth it unless they cry.

  And still, all that Xander could think were those four, simple words:

  Pain is your power.

  CHAPTER SIX:

  REAL EVIL

  Tim White marched down the hallway of Coral Beach High School, ignoring the frustrated rambling of Principal Shnieder beside him. He hated having to do this, but despite him loathing being back in these walls and the memories that they brought for him, he still couldn’t help but keep a certain swagger in his hips. There was a certain amount of joy in such a desperate situation, for he knew that he’d be gone soon. Gone far away from this horrid little town and all the cretins and weirdness that seemed to make their home here, and going all the way up to the hallowed halls of the FBI. He smiled when he thought of his badge, wondering when they would actually give it to him. He hoped that there would be a ceremony of some kind.

  “...don’t like this,” Shnieder continued in his high-pitched voice, the lights
gleaming off of his bald head as they strode throughout the halls. Tim could no longer tune it out, like a growing itch in the back of your mind. “Really don’t like this. Every time anything happens in this town, I’m the one who gets the brunt of the weight. I’m the one who gets his school turned upside down. I’m the one who -- ”

  “Shnieder, you little worm,” Tim cut off, stopping dead and turning to stare the troll in the eye. He had to look down to do so, and from this distance Shnieder looked to be about three feet high and shrinking. “I used to have to actually listen to this crap back when I was a P.D., but now I’ve been alleviated of your gross incompetence that got a good portion of this school’s student population killed less than a month ago, moron.” He reached deep into his pocket, taking only a second to appreciate the sound of the cowering man’s gulp as it echoed through the halls. He pulled forth a picture of a girl with bright, long blonde hair and a series of freckles in a line across her face. “Greer Donaldson. She in school today, by any chance?” he asked, though clearly the question was rhetorical.

  At least, it was clear to anyone with an IQ over ten. Sadly, Shnieder did not qualify. “No, she isn’t. How did you know that?”

  Tim frowned. “Because I just watched her parents identify her body.”

  All of the colour drained from Shnieder’s face. “She’s dead?” he asked, mortified by the notion. “She’s only fourteen.”

  “She’s comatose, actually,” Tim admitted as he placed one hand on the shorter man’s wiry shoulder. “They’re still doing the rape tests, but it’s fairly obvious what happened... There was a lot of bleeding.”

  Shnieder looked about ready to throw up. “I helped that girl study once or twice, back in my teaching days. Such a sweet child. What can I do to help?”