Nemesis

by Shaun Hutson

  She brushed the hair from her face, noticing as she did that her hand was shaking.

  Hacket had wanted to come with her but she had assured him she would be fine alone. She trusted doctor Curtis. Felt safe in his hands.

  ‘Come and see me’.

  The door to the surgery opened and the receptionist ushered her through, finally leaving her alone in the office. Although it looked different from the other times she had visited. For one thing there was no sign of Curtis. Sue saw a door leading out of surgery and she heard footsteps approaching that door. A second later the doctor entered. He was wearing a white lab coat over his clothes but that was the only item of protective clothing in evidence. He greeted Sue warmly and invited her to follow him through the door which she did.

  It opened onto the cellar.

  The white-washed walls almost glowed so dazzling bright were they painted. In the centre of the room was a couch, covered by a white sheet and, beside it, a trolley which sported a dizzying array of surgical implements.

  Sue swallowed hard as she saw them, and glanced anxiously at Curtis, who merely smiled and led her to the lower level.

  It was unexpectedly warm down there and she could hear an almost monotonous drone of something which she guessed might be a generator. Access to it though was hidden by a series of screens which surrounded the couch.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Curtis asked, smiling warmly, and Sue, once again, was captivated by his eyes. She felt as if she were drowning in them. Floating.

  ‘A little nervous,’ she confessed.

  ‘Then the sooner we get started the better,’ the doctor said. ‘Are you warm enough? I want you to be comfortable. The procedure doesn’t take more than about five minutes.’ He touched her arm softly. ‘And I’m sure you’ll find it worthwhile.’

  She smiled, relaxing visibly at his touch.

  ‘If you could undress for me,’ he said, quietly.

  Sue nodded almost imperceptibly. The words were spoken slowly, almost tenderly. The words of a lover, not a physician. He handed her a white gown from another of the trolleys which she laid on the couch. Then she began unbuttoning her blouse, glancing at Curtis as she did, surprised that she didn’t feel the slightest twinge of embarrassment.

  Curtis turned his back as she pulled the blouse free of her jeans. He bent over the trolley, inspecting a number of syringes which were laid out, it appeared, in descending order of size. The largest was over eight inches long, the smallest no bigger than his index finger.

  ‘Is your husband still opposed to this treatment?’ Curtis wanted to know, his back still to her.

  ‘He wasn’t really opposed to it,’ Sue informed him, unhooking her bra. ‘He was worried because he didn’t know all the details.’

  ‘I told him as much as I could.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Does it worry you?’ Curtis asked, turning round.

  Sue stood before him, naked from the waist up but she made no attempt to hide herself. Instead she stood facing the doctor, almost willing him to inspect her breasts, aware of the tightening and swelling of her nipples.

  ‘I want a child,’ she whispered, removing her shoes. ‘I don’t care what it takes.’ As she spoke she began to unfasten the zip of her jeans, easing them down over her slender hips until she stood before him in just her panties.

  The droning of the generator continued, a low hum which matched Sue’s increasingly deep breathing.

  As Curtis turned away from her for a second she was aware of the tingles running up and down her spine, of the growing excitement which was spreading through her body. As she prepared to remove her panties she felt the wetness between her legs.

  Completely naked she swung herself up onto the couch.

  Her breathing was coming in shallow gasps, her chest heaving almost expectantly.

  ‘Slide your bottom forward to the edge of the couch and open your legs,’ Curtis said, softly, laying one hand on her thigh to aid her in that simple manoeuvre. As he moved between her legs he could smell the musky odour of her sex. She shuffled around, gyrating her hips slightly, trying to slow the pace of her breathing.

  ‘I’m going to give you a local anaesthetic,’ he told her, quietly. ‘Just relax.’

  She eased her legs further apart, inviting him to move closer. Sue was gazing at the ceiling, she didn’t see Curtis reach for one of the smaller syringes.

  With infinite care he parted her outer labial lips, already swollen and red, slick with the moisture of her excitement. They had ·parted like the petals of a flower and he saw her stomach muscles contract as he gently moved the needle closer to her vagina.

  The steel point slid easily into the tumescent flesh and Sue sucked in a deep breath as it penetrated her, holding that breath as Curtis pushed on the plunger, emptying the contents of the shaft into her. Then he withdrew the glistening needle carefully and laid it on the trolley.

  ‘You might feel a little groggy,’ he told her. ‘If you do just let yourself fall asleep. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  She smiled.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered, closing her eyes, waiting for the next, deeper penetration.

  ‘This time,’ Curtis breathed and brought the largest of the syringes closer to her slippery cleft, pushing the needle inside until he felt it press against the spongy tissue of her endometrium. Sue arched her back slightly as the syringe was pushed deeper into her uterus and she felt fluid filling her. Felt a warmth spreading up from her thighs and across her belly. Her nipples ached, such was their stiffness, and she brushed one breast with her hand, suppressing a gasp as her fingers raked against the hard bud.

  Curtis remained between her thighs, squeezing the last drops of fluid from the thick container, finally withdrawing it carefully.

  Sue let out a long breath, her eyes flickering shut.

  Curtis looked down at her and smiled.

  ‘It’s done,’ he told her, watching as a smile spread across her face.

  He reached for the gown and gently laid it over her. ‘Rest for a little while, the doctor said, standing over her until he saw that she was slipping off to sleep. Then he pulled off the rubber gloves he’d been wearing and tossed them into a nearby waste bin, washing his hands in the sink at one corner of the cellar.

  He had his back to the door when it opened.

  Curtis only heard the footsteps behind him, moving towards the couch.

  Towards Sue.

  He turned slowly to see the other figure standing over her.

  They exchanged glances and Curtis merely nodded, a silent affirmation of what the other wondered. Like the mute answer to an unasked question.

  The figure reached for the gown and pulled it up, inspecting Sue’s body, gazing at her full rounded breasts, flat stomach and the small triangle of light hair between her legs. Legs which were still slightly parted.

  Curtis, still drying his hands, joined the newcomer, who was still looking appreciatively at Sue’s naked body.

  ‘It won’t be long now,’ Curtis said, quietly.

  The other nodded.

  Sixty-eight

  ‘That’s about the tenth time you’ve checked your watch and we’ve only been out here for ten minutes,’ Jo Milton said, smiling.

  Hacket shrugged and dug his hands in his pockets as they walked.

  ‘I promise not to look again,’ he said, smiling.

  All around them the sound of children playing, shouting, arguing, laughing and sometimes fighting merged into one endless cacophony of noise. Break-time, twenty minutes in which to unleash the furies built up during class, thought Hacket looking round at the children.

  A group of boys were kicking a ball against a wall to his right. To his left three or four girls were standing around peering at a magazine. One of them looked at Hacket as he passed and smiled. The others dissolved into a chorus of giggles.

  ‘Seems you’ve got an admirer,’ said Jo, chuckling.

  Hacket shrugged.

 
‘Catch them young, that’s my motto,’ he told her. ‘What about you, Jo? Any entanglements?’

  ‘A boyfriend you mean?’ She shook her head and sipped the tea she was carrying. ‘Nothing serious.’

  Hacket glanced at her, struck, as he had been at their first meeting, by her good looks. Her face was full but not fat, her pointed chin making her look much more thin-featured than she actually was. Her high cheek bones accentuated the look.

  Was this how it had started with Nikki? A casual conversation?

  Hacket tried to push the thoughts aside, but they persisted. Jo was very attractive indeed, and as she looked at him he found himself gazing deep into her eyes, stumbling through the clichés to find one that described them.

  Inviting eyes?

  He’d played this game before.

  Come to bed eyes?

  He forced himself to look away from her, glancing around the playground once again at the noisy throng of children.

  ‘How long have you been married, John?’ she asked.

  ‘Five years,’ he told her, again avoiding her eyes.

  ‘Happy?’

  ‘What makes you ask that?’

  ‘It’s an innocent enough question isn’t it?’ she said, defensively.

  Well go on then, tell her, his mind prompted. Tell her you’re happily married. It’s just that you wouldn’t refuse if she was available would you?

  Or would you?

  ‘Jo, can I ask you something,’ he said. ‘In your official capacity.’

  She smiled.

  ‘That does sound grand, John. What is it?’

  ‘Is it possible for a foetus to gestate inside the womb without having travelled along the fallopian tubes?’

  ‘Is that a trick question?’ she chuckled. ‘What’s the next one? Who won the FA cup last year?’

  ‘I’m serious. You’re a biologist.’

  ‘I teach biology, there’s a difference.’

  ‘But is it possible?’

  ‘Through certain forms of artificial insemination yes.’

  ‘You mean that the egg is planted directly into the womb?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Is it fertilised first?’ he wanted to know. ‘I mean, the egg couldn’t be placed in the womb then fertilised by normal means?’

  ‘No,’ she said, flatly. ‘There are certain nutrients and proteins found in the ovaries and the fallopian tube which are essential to the development of the foetus.’ She looked hard at him. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, John, this is a little deep for this time of the day isn’t it? We’re doing playground duty not "Mastermind".’

  ‘Just humour me will you? What about the growth rate of the foetus, is there any way it could be speeded up? To cut the gestation period for instance?’

  ‘Well, theoretically, yes.’

  Hacket looked at her, stopped walking and gripped her arm.

  ‘How?’ he wanted to know.

  Some of the children nearby saw him grab Jo’s arm and turned to look but the two teachers moved on after a moment or two.

  ‘How could it be done?’ he repeated.

  ‘Growth is regulated by the pituitary gland. Too little causes dwarfism, too much causes the opposite and disfiguring disease called acromegaly. The gland secretes the hormones that regulate growth.’ She looked puzzled. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting at, John.’

  ‘Could the gestation period be altered by these pituitary hormones?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Yes, but no one has ever done that.’

  Hacket sucked in an almost painful breath.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ Jo persisted.

  Hacket didn’t answer.

  All he was aware of were Curtis’ words ringing in his ears.

  ‘This is my project, Mr Hacket. My treatment.’

  Sixty-nine

  He pulled a piece of the scab from his hand, picking away at the crusted flesh until it came free.

  His eyes, however, did not leave the playground.

  So many children, thought Ronald Mills, smiling.

  They ranged in age from eight up to about fifteen, he thought, watching as they cavorted noisily around in the school yard.

  A tall privet hedge formed a boundary between the school field and the road on one side but Mills could see easily over this barrier as he walked along, glancing at the children as he did.

  Groups of boys were playing football; girls were skipping or chasing each other or merely standing around talking.

  Mills stopped as he caught sight of two young girls no more than nine years old. The first of them had gleaming blonde hair, so pure it looked almost silver. It reached to the middle of her back and, as she stood talking to her friend, she would occasionally toss the mane of hair with one hand. Her companion was slightly darker and a little taller.

  Mills smiled as he gazed at them, feeling the first stirrings in his groin. He slipped one hand into his pocket, rubbing his stiffening penis.

  Across the road from the school there was a row of houses, each one painted white with tedious uniformity. It was from the bedroom window of one of these houses that a woman watched Mills.

  He stood staring at the children for a moment or two then moved on, looking behind him as he did so.

  He saw the woman standing at the window.

  She froze as she realised he’d seen her, attempting to duck back behind her curtain, but Mills merely stood gazing up at the window, as if challenging her to re-appear.

  She didn’t.

  After a moment or two he moved on, glancing one last time at the two children in the field beyond.

  It took him less than fifteen minutes to wander around the entire perimeter of the school and he came to the gates where he had begun his vigil earlier. There he lit up a cigarette and continued gazing into the playground.

  He recognised Hacket immediately.

  The teacher was with a woman, walking slowly, talking to her.

  Mills sucked hard on his cigarette and watched Hacket with the same determined intent as a predator watching its prey.

  He didn’t know how long he stood there, but finally the sound of a bell disturbed his observations.

  The children flooded towards the. school buildings, Hacket and the woman were caught up in the flow and, in moments, they too were gone.

  The playground was empty again.

  Mills finished his cigarette then turned and headed back to his car.

  He was smiling as he slid behind the wheel.

  Seventy

  The house was in silence when he entered.

  Hacket paused by the front door, listening for any noise from within but, upon hearing nothing, he gently closed the door and walked into the sitting room.

  Sue was lying on the sofa, her eyes closed.

  Hacket looked at her worriedly and immediately crossed to her, kneeling beside her, shaking her gently to rouse her. She opened her eyes, looked up at him and smiled.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, softly.

  She nodded and sat up, rubbing her temple.

  ‘Just a bit of a headache,’ she told him.

  ‘How did it go this morning?’ he wanted to know. ‘With Curtis? I thought you might have phoned when you got back.’

  ‘I didn’t want to disturb you. Besides, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was fine. I feel fine.’

  ‘How long did it take?’

  ‘I was back home within two hours. Doctor Curtis told me to take it easy so I did. I must have dropped off.’ She began to rise. ‘I’ll get the dinner.’

  ‘No, Sue, leave it. Just sit,’ Hacket told her, crossing to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a large whisky and Sue a Martini. Then he sat beside her on the sofa, easing one arm round her shoulders.

  ‘What happened?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘It was simple, just like Curtis said it would be.’ She told him what had happened. The injection. The period of sleep which followed. Hacket listened intently, sipping his drink occasionally.<
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  ‘Did Curtis say anything more about the nature of the treatment? What it involved?’

  ‘He told us about it the other evening, John,’ she said, wearily.

  ‘He didn’t tell us everything,’ Hacket protested.

  ‘You’re never satisfied are you?’ she snapped. ‘Why do you need to know so much? Surely the most important thing is that we can have another child.’

  ‘I don’t like the idea of you being used as a guinea pig.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You speak as if I’m the first he’s treated. We know the treatment works.’

  ‘Yes, we just don’t know what the treatment is.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ Hacket continued. ‘I was talking to one of the other teachers today.’

  ‘About this?’ Sue blurted, angrily. ‘It’s our business, John.’

  ‘Calm down, Sue, I just needed to know a few things. I think I might know what Curtis is doing. What some parts of the treatment are. One of the biology teachers, Jo, she said…’

  ‘She?’ Sue interrupted. ‘It’s always a woman isn’t it? You always seem to get on better with women, John. Is it easier to talk about your problems to a woman than another man?’

  He knew where this was leading.

  ‘She was better qualified to answer my questions,’ he said, irritably.

  ‘Well, a teacher is a step up from a secretary isn’t it?’ said Sue, acidly.

  ‘For Christ’s sake.’

  ‘A little talk. Is that how it started before? With the other one?’

  Hacket glared at her, his anger mixed with the guilt which still plagued him. He resented Sue for making him feel that guilt again. He got up and poured himself another drink, his back to her.

  ‘Are we going to talk about this or not?’ he asked.

  ‘What? You mean about what your lady friend told you today? Or about our baby? Except you seem to be more interested in your little chat.’