It Lives In The Basement

by Sahara Foley

  “Okay, Cassie, I'm going to carry you upstairs, then I'm fetching the midwife. Okay?”

  “I'm scared,” she whispered weakly.

  “You'll be fine,” he reassured her, knowing he was lying. “This may hurt, but I have to get you upstairs.”

  Cassie nodded, staring at him with her large, frightened eyes. Lifting her up in his arms, she moaned, burying her head against his shoulder. Swinging her around to go upstairs, he glanced at the stool she'd been sitting in. Blood. Not much, but enough to make him concerned. Deak carried the girl upstairs as gently and fast as he could. For being pregnant, she weighed no more than an oversized box of liqueur bottles.

  Deak laid her tenderly on his bed, helping her adjust the pillow and blanket until she was comfortable. “I'm going to fetch Lucille. I'll be right back, okay?”

  Cassie grabbed his hand. “Please, don't let him take my baby.”

  Deak patted her hand. “Cassie, I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you. I won't let anything happen to you, or your baby.”

  With a small relieved smile, she let her hand drop to the bed, her eyes closing.

  Two minutes later Deak was standing in front of Lucille's living quarters, jabbing the doorbell over and over. “Hold your horses,” bellowed a raspy voice through the door. “I'm coming.”

  The door slid open, revealing a medium-height, large bodied woman. She stared at Deak in surprise. She hadn't seen him at her doorstep for almost a year. “Something wrong?” she asked, as she tucked a strand of gray hair into her disheveled bun.

  “Lucille, I'm sorry to bother you,” Deak said in a rush, panting heavily from running, “but there's a girl in labor in my bar.”

  “Are you drunk?” Lucille asked with a dubious look.

  “Yes, no,” Deak stammered. He couldn't fault Lucille for being suspicious. He probably reeked of whiskey. He took a deep breath. “Look, Lucille, I wouldn't be knocking at your door after midnight, especially on Christmas, if it wasn't important. There's a girl in my bar, in labor, and I think there's something wrong. She's bleeding, and I don't think it's normal.”

  “So why didn't you call for medical assistance?” Lucille stood with arms crossed under her ample bosom.

  “Because she asked me not too, and I promised I'd help her.”

  She squinted her gray eyes, staring at him, her gaze traveling up and down his body. Deak shifted his feet, looking down, embarrassed he looked like a drunk who just wandered off the street.

  With a sniff and a slight nod, she said, “Wait here, I'll go grab my bag.” She retreated into her quarters, disappearing around a corner.

  Deak could see Mike snoring in a recliner, a vid-screen flickering on the wall across from him. In the corner was an artificial Christmas tree, covered with tinsel and twinkling red, green, and blue lights. Under the tree were packages decorated in bright, lively paper. When he glanced up, he saw mistletoe hanging over his head. Deak's heart lurched as tears burned the back of his eyes. Christmas used to be his favorite time of the year. He loved watching Kat and Tyler tearing open their presents. Their squeals of delight at what they'd uncovered. Afterwards, they'd drink eggnog while they listened to Christmas songs.

  Deak wiped away a tear. God, he missed them so much. Because of their deaths, he'd banned Christmas from his life. He shook his head. Kat would be so disappointed with him. She'd enjoyed the Christmas holiday almost as much as he had.

  Lucille appeared in the doorway, handing Deak a large, black satchel. “C'mon, let's go. We got a baby to deliver.” Deak slung the bag over his shoulder.

  As they proceeded through the tunnel, back to his bar, Lucille started asking questions. “So, what's her name?”

  “Cassie.”

  “Where's the father of the baby?”

  “I don't know. She wouldn't give me his name.”

  Lucille stopped and glared at him. “Why not? What's she hiding from?”

  Deak turned to look back at her, shrugging. “I don't know. She wouldn't tell me. All she said was her baby was in danger. That whoever the father was, wanted to kill the baby.”

  “Are you getting me involved in something illegal?” She squinted her eyes at him again.

  Deak shook his head. “I don't think so.” He ran his hand through his greasy, shaggy hair. “Look, Lucille, the kid's in trouble. She needs our help.”

  Lucille stared into Deak's brown, pleading eyes. She hadn't seen him care about anyone, or anything, for over two years. With a sign, and a slight nod, she followed Deak up the stairway into the bar. A frown appeared, as her eyes found the handgun lying on the bar. She tsked to herself, as she followed Deak to his living quarters. She stopped, mid-stride, mouth open in horror at the liquor bottles, dirty clothes, and crusted food containers strewn all over the place.

  Hands on hips, with pursed lips, she glared up at Deak. “If'n I knew you was a living like this, I would've had my girls already up here, cleaning. We'll be up tomorrow. This place ain't fit for man nor beast. Now, hand me my bag.”

  Checks flushing with embarrassment, Deak handed over the satchel, not meeting Lucille's condemning eyes. “Cassie's in the bedroom. I did change my sheets before I brought her up here.”

  “Well, at least you were doing a little thinking afore you got me,” Lucille said as she rummaged through her large bag. With a triumph “humph,” she brought out a pair of jeans and shirt. “Here. You stink. About time you cleaned up, don't you think?”

  Face burning with shame, Deak meekly took the clothes and retreated into the shower room. Stepping under the hot spray, he leaned against the wall, letting the water pound on his back. His muscles slowly started to relax. He'd forgotten how blissful a hot shower felt. He found a back brush and an old piece of soap. Standing under the steaming water, he scrubbed and scrubbed. As the dead skin and dried sweat sluiced off, he felt lighter, like the soap was removing layers of grief and guilt.

  For years, he'd been bemoaning the fact he didn't have a family. But these people here, Lucille, Mike, and some of the other patrons in his bar, were his family. After Kat and Tyler's funerals, they'd stood by him, offering their friendship and support. But he turned his back on them. Even after he became a self-centered, grief-stricken man, they went out of their way to make sure he was taken care of. He owed them a lot, or at the very least, a heart-felt thank you and apology.

  With a buoyant step, he strode into his living room, to be confronted with Lucille, her lips pressed tight, anger glinting in her gray eyes, arms crossed under her heaving chest. “What's wrong?”

  She surveyed him from top-to-bottom, a slight smile breaking her angry demeanor. “Heck of an improvement, but you're as thin as a rail. We'll get some meat back on your bones in no time, don't you worry.” She glanced back toward his bedroom, the anger returning to her eyes. “It's Cassie. Under those layers of clothes are bruises. Lots of bruises. She's been beaten, severely. I think she might have a broken rib, and …” Lucille stopped, taking a deep breath, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I ain't had no medical training, only the birthing of babes, but I'm sure she's dying. She's got a massive bruise on her abdomen. Looks like internal bleeding, and there ain't nothing I can do to help her. Don't know if anyone can.”

  Deak gasped, face going pale. He felt like he'd just been sucker-punched. With shaky legs, he lowered himself to a nearby chair. Not again. Not on Christmas. He shook his head. Get a hold of yourself. This isn't Kat or Tyler. You barely know the poor girl. So why was he reacting this way toward her?

  Running his hand through his long, damp hair, he understood. She'd saved his life. He was mere seconds from pulling the trigger and scattering his brains all over the bar. If she hadn't knocked on the door when she did, he'd already be dead. No more worries, no more caring.

  He looked up at Lucille. “Why would someone beat her? She told me her baby was in danger. Were they trying to kill the baby?” With fear in his eyes, he asked, “Is the baby –“

  “No, the bab
e's still alive,” Lucille said, patting his shoulder. “How? I ain't got no idea. Has to be a miracle. But if she don't give birth real soon, it'll die with her. There's one more thing.” Lucille's face tightened with anger again. “She's been branded, on her inner thigh. I'd seen this mark afore. She's a slave, probably kidnapped on Earth, then shipped here to be sold to the highest bidder. Them damn heathen bastards. With her honey-blonde hair, I bet she fetched a right fair amount, too.”

  A loud moan echoed from Deak's bedroom.

  Lucille gripped Deak's shoulder, staring him in the eyes. “Look, Deak. I need your help. Cassie's awful weak. She's about ready to give up. She's gonna need someone by her side to help her with the birthing. Are you up for that?”

  Deak's troubled eyes slid away from Lucille's penetrating gaze. Was he strong enough to go through the emotional turmoil of death again? Even for a stranger? But Cassie really wasn't a stranger. She'd saved him from his self-inflicted demons. And the demons chasing her weren't of her making. She was a victim, just like Kat and Tyler had been. Did he owe her? Yes, he did. If not for himself, at least for his wife and son.

  Deak looked up at Lucille, lips pressed together, eyes unflinching. With a nod, he said, “Yes, I am.” Standing, he pulled Lucille into his arms, giving her a warm hug. “Thank you. I don't know what I'd have done without you all these years. I'm sorry for the way I've behaved.”

  Eyes widened in surprise, Lucille embraced him back, just as tightly. “Nothing to be sorry for. Just promise you'll not turn back into the man you were afore today.”

  “I promise, but only if you're here to help me when my grief becomes more than I can bear.”

  “You got it. Now, we got to take care of Cassie and her babe,” Lucille said, shoving herself away from Deak. Turning, she strode into the bedroom.

  Deak followed her in, then stopped in shock. His heart leapt to his throat. Staring down at Cassie's slight form under the sheet, he could see the gray pallor of death creeping into her face. Oh, Cassie. What have they done to you? His hands clenched into fists, jaw tightening in anger, thinking about all the tragedy she'd suffered in her short life. Who were her parents? Where did they live? They would wonder the rest of their days what had happened to their daughter. They would never know they had a grandchild. If, that is, the baby survived.

  Cassie moaned again. She was struggling weakly under the sheet, fighting with the beginning of another painful contraction.

  “Deak!” Lucille yelled, as she rolled up the sheet, exposing Cassie's lower body. “Each contraction is leaving her weaker. I fear she'll pass out afore she can push out the babe. I need you to sit next to Cassie, keep her awake, and give her comfort. Just let her know she's not alone.”

  White lines outlined Lucille's mouth, unshed tears sparkled in her eyes. Deak knew she was also being affected by Cassie's tragic, short life. He hurried over to the head of the bed, and sat on the edge with one leg tucked under his butt.

  “Cassie, I'm here,” he said softly, tenderly brushing strands of wet hair from her clammy, pale face.

  She rolled her head, looking up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered as she took his hand. A weak smile flitted across her face before it turned to a grimace of pain, the contraction taking hold. She tightened her grip on his hand and started panting in short bursts, Deak panting along with her.

  “No, Cassie. You got to push girl,” Lucille ordered.

  Deak looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “Is it time already? She just started labor, didn't she?”

  Peering up from between Cassie's bent knees, Lucille said, “I'm not sure when she started, but she's fully dilated. She's got scars showing she's had at least one child afore, so this delivery should be faster.” She trained her eyes on Cassie. “C'mon. Push, Cassie. You got to push.”

  Cassie started grunting, head and shoulders off the bed, eyes squeezed shut, one hand balled into a fist in the sheet, the other gripping onto Deak's hand. Deak could see the muscles in her neck straining as she bore down.

  After only a few seconds, she let out a heavy sigh, sinking back on the pillow. “I can't. I'm too weak.” Her scared eyes looked up at Deak's.

  “That's okay, Cassie. We'll help you,” Deak said, patting her hand. He swallowed a lump in his throat, not at all sure what he could do for her.

  “You done fine, girl. I can see the head. Deak, get under her shoulders, help her sit up so's all she has to do is push.”

  Deak gently lifted Caasie's head, then scooched his bent leg underneath her head and shoulders. As he cradled her in his arms, he tenderly wiped the sweat from her face with the edge of the sheet. “You'll be okay,” he reassured her. But when his eyes met Lucille's, he knew he was lying. He could see Cassie's fate in the blood that coated Lucille's hands as she absently pushed a stray strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand. Tears pricked the back of his eyes, and he had to blink several times to clear his vision.

  “Okay, Cassie. One good push should get the head through. Now, push,” Lucille instructed.

  Cassie started straining again, as Deak tightened his embrace, trying to infuse his strength into her. Again, after only a few seconds, she gave up with a loud sigh, falling back against Deak's chest. Peering down at the girl, he could definitely see Death's handprint on Cassie's young face. He quickly glanced up at Lucille.

  She shook her head. “Ain't much I can do for her, Deak. She's bleeding too much. But if'n she don't deliver her baby right now, it'll die with her.”

  He looked back down at Cassie. Her eyes were closed, and he could barely see her chest rising and falling under the sheet. He gently shook her. “Cassie, honey, you have to give one more big push. If you don't, your baby will die. Please, you have to try.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, and pretty soon he was gazing into her blue eyes. With a shaky hand, she stroked Deak's cheek. “Please,” she whispered, “take care of my baby.”

  Tears started sliding down his cheek. “I swear, Cassie,” he said in a hoarse voice, “I'll protect your baby.”

  She gave a slight nod. Feeling her starting to strain again, he pushed her as far up as he could into a sitting position.

  “Just a little more,” Lucille encouraged. “Just one more push.”

  With an anguished scream, Cassie bore down as hard as she could, then fell limply against Deak's chest.

  “Got him,” Lucille said. Holding the baby upside down, she slapped his back. A loud waiting sound broke the silence.

  “Did you hear that, Cassie? You have a son. Hear him crying?” He stroked her cheek, knowing she would never see her boy grow up. “What's his name?”

  She stared into his eyes. “Chris … to … pher,” she said with her last breath, as her eyes glazed over, Death finally coming to roost.

  “Cassie, I'm so sorry.” Deak rocked her in his arms, sobbing. “It's just not fair. You didn't even get the chance to see your son.” Tears streamed down his face, as he mourned for a girl he never knew, wishing he had. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I promise to take care of Christopher for you. I won't let anyone harm him. I swear.”

  “I'm sorry, Deak,” Lucille said, standing next to him, holding the sheet-wrapped baby. “I couldn't save her. Cassie was bleeding too badly. Doubt anyone could've helped her. Here.” She held out the bundled baby. “It's time you met your son.”

  With trembling arms, he reached out and took the infant. It'd been years since he'd held a baby, but it felt natural as he cradled Christopher in his arms. He stared down at the blonde-haired child in wonder. What the hell did he just commit to? He was a drunk. He had no business raising a child.

  He glanced up into Lucille's understanding eyes. She patted his shoulder, a warm smile spreading across her plain face. Yes, Deak thought, I may be a drunk, but I have family to help me. Cassie had saved him from himself, and now she gave him a reason to live.

  Feeling his new son squirming in his arms, he peered down at the boy, tears of grief turning to tears of joy, a
nd his heart swelling with love. He knew his Christmases would be silent no more.

  * * *

  I have also enclosed Chapter One and Two from my current work-in-progress: The Revenge of Excalibur - sequel to The Secret of Excalibur. Please bear in mind this is a rough draft and unedited. And sure to change.

  The Revenge of Excalibur

  Chapter One

  Army boots: stomping, smashing the daisy with the blue center.

  Arthur Merlin jerked his head back. He'd been so entranced with the fathomless, turquoise eyes of the breathtaking female before him; he'd lost all track of time. He blinked his eyes several times, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. As he became aware of his surroundings, he heard the dripping of water into the small, inner cavern lake, the shuffling of equipment being set-up, and the echoing of voices off the distant walls.

  The image flashed through his mind again, more forcefully. Army boots: squashing, grinding the daisy with the blue center, into the cavern floor, until there wasn't anything left but small, unidentifiable pieces.

  Oh, shit. Major Breckenridge and Alpha Team. He'd forgotten all about them. Arthur had a lot of respect for the Major, especially after everything they'd gone through at Heathrow Airport and Lake George, but he couldn't let Daisy fall into their hands. If she did, who knows what would happen to the evil entity trapped in the legendary Excalibur? Daisy was the only one who could control it. Just thinking about the Shalit escaping its prison, made Arthur break out in a cold sweat. He'd already had his confrontation with the alien being, and lost. If it hadn't been for Daisy, he'd be dead. Arthur had to find a way to save Daisy, and keep the Shalit contained.

  He glanced at the tunnel entrance, where Major Breckenridge and Dr. Tober were striding purposefully toward him. He peered back down at Daisy. She was looking up at him with such love and trust. His breath caught, as he found himself falling under her spell. He shook his head. No, he couldn't let himself get mesmerized again. She was in danger, he had to save her.