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

by Matthew LeDrew

  -click-

  The creature grew stiff and ridged, its face showing the closest thing to emotion it had since it had appeared at the closet door. Its eyes grew wider, as though it recognized the tiny sound of metal on metal that had rung out towards it. It turned, its eyes narrowing again as it saw Al with one hand on the knob to the front door, and one still on the deadbolt he had just unlocked.

  “Maaanah!” the creature roared at the top of its lungs, turning its body so fast that its kneecaps snapped in the wrong direction, his femur breaking the skin and healing itself seconds later, leaving only the spurt of black blood as any evidence it had been there. It charged at Al, leaping onto its hands and feet and pouncing, its mouth opening half way through the motion to show all of those teeth again.

  Al screamed, bringing his arms up to block his face.

  A moment later, one of those arms slammed against the door, leaving a circular red splotch that ran down towards the floor.

  Tears coursing down his cheeks, he stared at the stub of mangled flesh and bone, clutching it with his other hand as blood sprayed out and onto his face and the ceiling, dripping back down on both of them. “Fuck!” he screamed, clenching his teeth so hard that one in the front that was decayed actually cracked and popped out, rolling along the floor and coming to a stop next to a shoe.

  The monster brought its hand upwards quickly, giving Al an uppercut with its palm open and its claws outstretched. The long one and the end of its middle finger caught the loose flesh where Al’s cheek met his jawbone and an instant later it was gone, along with all the skin on that side of his face right up to his receding hairline. When he opened his mouth to scream, his jaw came loose, falling slack against his chest. The creature reached up its hand again, shoving it forward after a second’s pause as if to aim. Its arm jutted forward, the talon-less thumb digging into Al’s lidless eye. Clear gelatinous goop came out as it wrapped its remaining digits around the back of the rapist’s head, then slammed him against the metal door with such force that his skull caved in, tiny bits of it sticking out of his hair as he slid lifelessly to the floor.

  The creature sunk its teeth deep into Al’s chest as the body lay on the floor, gnawing and gnashing about wickedly. There was a sick slurping sound as the dead man’s wet muscles contracted reflexively around their killer’s chin. Finally it reached what it wanted, withdrawing its head with the young man’s heart resting comfortably between its jaws. After a moment it clamped down hard, sending fountains of blood in all directions, before swallowing its prize.

  The black beast turned, its hands dripping with blood and brain matter, towards Phillips. Between the two, Cathy still sat on the floor unsure of whether to be happy or sad about what the Black Womb was doing all around her. The entire altercation had taken place in less than three minutes.

  It took a step forward. When it stepped out of the hall where Al’s remains were and into the light of the living room, Cathy could see redness pumping its way into the corners of its eyes. After a moment it went away, then came back again as the Womb took another silent step forward. It ground its teeth as if in pain, closing its eyes and clawing at its own skull with its claws. In her mind’s eye, Cathy could almost see the mental tug-of-war going on between Xander’s consciousness and the Womb’s. After a moment its eyelids split open again... revealing eyes that were a deep green aqua as the creature opened its mouth in what could only to perceived as a smile.

  “Black Womb lives!”

  “Oh, god,” Cathy gasped, kicking herself back against the carpet. Scrambling to her feet, she took off towards the door to the kitchen so fast that she almost tripped on a record that had been tossed out onto the floor.

  The creature watched her for a moment, looking at her the same way at cat looks at a mouse before giving chase, the light reflecting off of the opaque lenses it had for eyes. As soon as she reached the door to the kitchen, it leapt, landing next to the couch on all fours before standing up straight and walking in.

  Quivering and shaking as he used the record player to prop himself up, Phillips turned and ran towards the door and didn’t look back.

  The Womb stared into the small kitchen. The lights were off and the lenses over his eyes inverted and expanded to take in all the light possible, allowing him to see Cathy as she pushed a chair between herself and it on her way out the other door and into the back hallway.

  It growled like an engine revving, jumping onto the table and watching her run as his claws dug into its wooden surface. It jumped again, landing in the hall just behind her and slashing out with its claws, three of them catching her back and making long narrow lines there. The shallow cuts were already bleeding as she fell forward, slamming her head against an end table and knocking over the potted plant on it. Soil and mud fell into her hair as she hit the hardwood, the sky blue vase shattering right next to her. She turned to face it as it loomed over her, its face emotionless and barren.

  “Please...” she begged, her hands before her in defense just as Al’s had been. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the blood and dirt on her cheeks. “Please, Xander... not you.”

  The creature stopped in its tracks, its eyes narrowing at her.

  Cathy sighed and walked over to the Womb, placing her hand on the side of its face to force it to look at her. This time it did not turn away or object in any way, her touch sending a tingle through his oily black form. She traced its large eyes with her fingertips, looking deep into them. Really looked. Past the liquid hatred that covered him, somehow cutting through it all and getting past it unscathed. She squinted and bit her lip as she found what she was looking for, smiling. “It’s really you in there, isn’t it?”

  Redness poked its way along the corner of its retinas, until it twitched its head and the colour changed back to green again. It raised its arm high, extending the talons on it to their fullest.

  Pulling herself to her feet once more, Cathy darted into the closest door and slammed it behind her. It was dark, but there was enough light coming in through a shaded window to tell where she was. She had come into Phillips’ bedroom. She grabbed a hamper quickly, moving it in front of the door as best she could before darting into the closet and closing the door behind her.

  For a long moment there was nothing. She wondered if it had forgotten about her the second she was out of sight and had gone back to deal with the third rapist. The closet was damp and musty. It smelt of moldy laundry and a sterile smell that stung her nostrils and reminded her of hospitals.

  There was a crash as the door opened, followed quickly by another as the hamper slammed against the far wall of the room.

  Her lips shaking, she cast her eyes down and watched the tiny ray of light coming in from beneath the doorway. After a second, part of it turned dark with shadow as the Black Womb stepped into the room. She cupped her hand over her mouth to try and contain the whimpering sound that her mucus-ridden throat was making without her knowledge, pressing so tightly she might have cut off her own air flow.

  From outside the closet, she heard it growl. There was a ripping sound, and she could almost picture it crouched down on the floor and ripping at the carpet with its claws as it surveyed the room. It seemed like it was always doing something with its hands. Just like Xander. The thought scared her even more, a shudder escaping from her despite her efforts to stop it as she peered something under a pile of bloody towels out of the corner of her eye, almost obscured by her wet lashes.

  In the bedroom, the creature stopped scratching at the carpet and was immediately still and silent when it heard the shudder from somewhere in the room, followed by a sudden rush of air. Its eyes became small slits in its head as it stuck its tongue out, tasting the air for scents. Its head turned so quickly that it pulled a muscle, which healed even as it happened. It stared at the closet door, watching it as though it was supposed to do something other than what it was.

  Slowly, the creature crept towards it, its claws ready to strike at a moment’s notic
e as its head bobbed from side to side.

  Cathy watched as the shadow under the door became bigger and bigger, biting her lip so hard it drew blood.

  “Xander!” Cathy cried, getting out of the car and running towards him, with Mike not far behind. They embraced him, tears of joy streaming down all three faces. They fell to the ground, kneeling on the wet soil, still embraced. Xander leaned in and kissed Cathy on the forehead. “It’s alright.”

  She shook her head, trying to fight it, then finally gave up and simply burst into laughter. She hadn’t wanted to laugh right then. The way everyone was looking at her since trying to convince people that Grendel had raped her the night he died was merciless. There was so much in their eyes. Hatred, pity and always a little desire with the men, no matter who.

  Except Xander.

  “Thank you,” she said honestly, her voice sounding like the sun. As if warm sunshine on your face could speak to you and tell you that it would empower and protect you. There was security in her voice, a place where he could make his home.

  “For what?” he asked, cocking a brow at her.

  “Making me laugh,” she explained, those pink lips curling into a smile. His hand lingered near hers so she took it, her fingers dancing gently across his.

  Again it twitched, grinding its long teeth against its gums.

  The closet door flung open as Cathy pushed her arm forward with something in it, a bottle whose contents were now surging towards the creature as it was distracted.

  Rubbing alcohol spewed into the Womb’s eyes and was immediately absorbed by the retina. They turned pitch black around the edges as the blood vessels in them exploded, sending the tar the monster used for blood into its pupils. It thrust its head backward and screamed something that couldn’t be described in human terms, though it was clear it was the creature’s version of a vile curse. Its hands went to its face instinctively, which only resulted in it tearing at its own eyes with its talons.“Ma-gda!” it bellowed, finally opening its eyes again in time to see Cathy bolting towards the door.

  It screamed longer and louder than she had ever heard it. Although it wasn’t English, it sounded like Phillips screaming for her return in the school. As she re-entered the hallway, it occurred to her that she had managed to piss it off.

  She stepped on the shattered remains of the vase, a large chunk sticking through her shoe and into her foot. Hissing in pain, she tumbled to the floor again, this time catching herself. When she tried to get up again, she felt a weight on her back and looked over her shoulder to see that face of the Black Womb through clumps of her dark hair, its piercing eyes like greenish-blue spotlights. “No!” she cried, even as it raised its hand again.

  “She looks much tastier than I remembered...” Phillips said, the voice cutting through the darkness. “Let’s have us a taste, then?”

  “No...” Cathy protested, trying in vain to get her attackers off of her.

  Spider broke off she and Xander’s kiss and looked at him. “Don’t forget. Pain is your power.”

  Pain is your power.

  From somewhere deep inside, the consciousness of Xander Drew let loose with one final push for freedom. The creature’s eyes began to glow red as it brought its talons up and again started to tear at its own face, falling backward off of Cathy and screaming. Then, without any other warning the black ooze fell from his body as if it suddenly lost the ability to cling there, splashing against the floor and leaving a thin layer of blood surrounding Xander’s naked form. He pushed back a scream, falling to the floor and shuddering. He was cold, even though it was quite humid here in the house. Slowly, he crawled over to Cathy and held her close to him.

  She pulled away from him, her eyes filled with uncertainty and fear as her lip curled slightly in disgust.

  “It’s alright,” he said softly. “It’s alllll right.”

  Her body shaking as she finally let go of everything she’d been holding onto, she collapsed into his arms and pressed her face against his naked, blood-drenched chest and started to cry in massive heaves, wrapping her arms around him. He stroked her hair as best he could, making a soft shushing sound to try and calm her.

  There, alone and naked with her in the dark as her clothes hung off of her, he realized what Spider had been trying to tell him all along. Pain is my power, he thought, his eyes growing so wide that he was physically unable to shut them. His hand began to shake. It wasn’t his pain that had triggered the Womb and saved them both, or the transformation back. It wasn’t his suffering. The thing that had triggered it at Sara’s wake, in the fever dream and just now was emotion. The desire to protect his friends. It was their pain. He looked down at Cathy, shivering in his arms. Her pain.

  He found this information sick, twisted, and absolutely no help at all.

  Dr. Darren Phillips walked down the hall of Coral Beach High School towards his office the next day, a broad smile across his lips. He was confident of his own immortality and had even enjoyed the fifteen-minute walk to work today, just as Greer Donaldson had attempted to do not long before. The thought brought a smile to his face and a song to his heart as he skipped over the stairs, waving to Tommy, Sud and some girl he hadn’t seen much of. Then he waved to Randy, the young man smiling back at him.

  He was humming the Cheshire Cat song from Alice in Wonderland without a care in the world. Those kids couldn’t pin anything on him, he’d made sure of it. Cathy was known for crying rape and Drew was long suspected of being a gang member and a killer. The police wouldn’t believe anything they said, if that... thing hadn’t killed them anyway. He hadn’t found a trace of either of them when he ventured home to dispose of Al and Raine’s bodies. It was no matter anyway. He’d kill them soon enough.

  He twirled a key around his index finger, the tag on it saying something about how life was unpredictable. It was a line from that song by that guy in that band. Everyone knew it. Phillips stopped the key where it was and tried to shove it into the keyhole of his office. That was when he noticed that his door was open, just a little. Curiouser and curiouser. He chuckled inwardly, pushing the door open to see who was inside.

  Mike and Derek both sat casually on Phillips’ desk, sifting through files on Allan Bishop and Bram Raine at their leisure, not even bothering to look up when he came in. Both had a satisfied smile on their faces. Tim White was in front of them, holding up a third file. It was on a one Phillip Masters, but they all knew him as Dr. Darren Phillips... Before he got his name changed, of course.

  “What is this?” Phillips demanded, trying to play innocent. His face gave him away though. Innocent men didn’t get their faces covered with sweat that quickly, nor could the blood have drained from his face that fast on shock value alone.

  “This is your criminal record, Mr. Masters,” Tim informed him, and Derek could not help but chuckle at his own private joke. Mike wondered if Smith would ever clue him in on exactly what that joke was. “And this,” Tim continued, holding up a small sheet of paper with a police header on it, “is a signed statement from Julie Peterson pinning you as the third rapist to attack her.” Tim smiled, visibly enjoying this. He wasn’t done yet. “And finally, this,” he teased, handing up a third sheet. This one had a Federal border along the top. “This is a warrant for your arrest.”

  Phillips said nothing, his keys dropping to the floor with a clang as he lost motor control.

  Tim smiled. “You’re going back to Cleveland, Phil. Where I’m sure there will be plenty of big, nice, friendly men named Molly that’ll show you exactly how a rape victim feels.”

  CHAPTER NINE:

  CASE CLOSED

  Agent Tim White walked through the revolving doors of the Coral Beach Police Department, immediately starting to peel out of the beige trench coat he’d worn into the office. He stopped in his tracks just past the door, his eyes bulging slightly as he looked toward his desk.

  “Not a bad day,” the man leaning against his cubicle said, running a hand through his auburn hair and flashing
Tim a quick smile. It was the type of smile a used car salesman gave when you knew he was about to sell you the bridge, but you liked him anyway for it. He flipped the page of the police file he was holding, glancing only briefly at the pages. “Phillip Masters was wanted on eight counts of sexual misconduct back in Cleveland. They’ll be happy to have him back.”

  “Not as happy as we’ll be to be rid of him,” Tim growled as he marched over to his desk and tossed his jacket upon it. “Duncan Taggart, I presume?”

  The man smiled, shooting Tim a little two-fingered salute. “That’s me,” he chimed, giving Tim the once over and smiling.

  “What?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Your name’s Tim White. And you’re black. Please don’t tell me I’m the first person to point out the irony in that.”

  “To my face, yes,” Tim sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Is there something I can help you with? I’ve hung up on you twice, what more can I say?”

  Duncan closed the folder and waved it in front of Tim’s face. The red-stamped word ‘CLOSED’ shimmering back and forth in front of him, its ink still wet. “You did great work here, White. And with the Genblade case, but I told you that before.”

  Tim nodded, tapping his index finger on the rail that ran across the top of his desk.

  “But let me ask you this: how much fun is it doing a rape case?”

  Tim stopped, thinking back to when he’d asked Mike that very same question only a few days before. It felt like months. “None at all,” he said finally, his voice hushed.

  “That’s what I thought,” Duncan said, his mischievous grin returning. “Now, are you ready to get to work?”