Our jobs have too often pitted us against each other as enemies (despite my feelings that we are each fighting for the same thing—the preservation of the sea's rich diversity of marine life).
Last night I saw the more human side of David.
Concerned that I wasn't in the lab, he came to my quarters. He found me in tears. As there was no way to hide them, and he refused to leave until I told him what was wrong, I was forced to tell him the whole story.
God! Even now I have trouble writing about it!
I told him about the artificial insemination procedures and miscarriages. I told him about my husband's boating accident and death, on Oct. 28th. I told him that I had been pregnant, with the first chance to carry a baby to term. I fell apart, lost control, when I heard the news. Went into shock. My body terminated the pregnancy. The doctors couldn't save the infant. October 31st. How badly I wanted that child. I can't face this... can't face him.
David comforted me. I let the comforting go too far.
But it's been so long since I was with a man...
***
There was an urgent pounding on Katherine’s door, but she took the time to save and close the computer file before she answered it.
It was... Jim? ...she was so bad with names ...the Feeder.
“Dr. Cullom, come quick! There’s been an accident in the lab!”
***
At first Katherine could see no signs of trouble other than the huddle of team members in the corner, whispering and watching her. But at Helen’s work station there was evidence of a struggle. The computer, still on, though the monitor was dimming as the batteries failed, had crashed to the floor.
Her voice dead of emotion, she instructed a lab assistant to pick up the computer. “Save her work. There could be important information there.”
A box of slides had been swept off the table. Glass splinters littered the area. Halfway down the aisle, the bar stool from Helen’s station lay on its side in a puddle of water.
Katherine kneeled down to avoid the glare of the lights on the metal floor. She could just make out the damp, suction-cup marked trail that led back to the tank. The feeding hatch was closed. But a femur, with fresh bits of muscle and tendon still clinging to the joints, lay in the “octopus garden”, right outside Cthylla’s door.
As they watched, the rib cage was flung out of the lair.
“Kill it,” Katherine whispered. Her body began to shake.
Grasping a table leg for support, she stood stiffly.
The Feeder was trying, unsuccessfully, to fight off tears? panic? horror? Katherine couldn’t tell. She had little practice reading people’s emotions.
He babbled at her. “It... it ate Dr. Hydreah because it was hungry! It’s all my fault! I... but... octopuses are supposed to stop eating after they lay their eggs! Why is she still eating?”
Katherine knew no words of comfort. She offered the only advice she could. “Feed her now. Call the fisherman. Sedate her if you have to, but get the body out of there!
“Take pictures first. I want a full autopsy—including blood analysis for toxins. Let’s see how that poison works on the human system; and an analysis of the skin abrasion for feeding patterns. Let’s at least learn something from this!”
She strode out of the lab, well aware of the angry, shocked looks the team was giving her.
Katherine made it back to her quarters, locked the door, and turned on the radio before her knees gave way and the tears began. She composed herself and turned to her computer.
***
Field Journal November 1
Personal Addendum
Helen Is Dead. Because I Was Fucking David Gaughan Instead Of Doing My Job!
***
The team avoided Katherine as much as possible after that. In reality, there was no great difference in the amount of contact between her and the team.
Katherine did nothing to try to fix the rift in the weeks that followed, though she felt Helen’s loss far worse than any of them, and she desperately needed someone to talk to. She kept her distance because she didn’t want them to see that she had morning sickness.
***
Field Journal November 21
Arkham Industries has sent me a new assistant to fill Helen's position. His name is Johnny Depone.
His specialty is ocean ecology.
I'm not particularly fond of him, though I can't put my finger on the reason why. I sometimes think he's following a different agenda, though I can in no way criticize his performance or dedication.
Perhaps it is just my changing hormones, or the loss of Helen.
On the positive side, Johnny and David are old acquaintances, and get along well. So well that I'd question Johnny's alliances, if I didn't hear them arguing so often about marine conservation policies. I'm pleased with the arrangement, if for no other reason than it provides a buffer between David and myself.
***
Field Journal November 21
The eggs are the size of a beach ball now. And the Fertility Specialist was correct. Cthylla is winnowing the eggs, eating those she deems unfit to continue.
The Feeder, convinced that he's to blame for everything she eats, has upped her feeding to one hundred fifty pounds a day, heavy on Cthylla's favorite delicacies. Would that the team were so indulgent of me! There are more fish swimming in her tank than there are people on board this boat.
***
Field Journal December 1
Personal
I have decided to take a brief shore leave and visit my mother before the holidays. Undoubtedly, most of the team will want to go home for Christmas, if only for the weekend.
With no grandchildren in the family, we haven't made a big fuss about Christmas in years. Though I dread the reaction my pregnancy will cause. For Mother, Hope Springs Eternal, and Dies Hard. Each death is more painful.
But it should provide a welcome respite from our usual morbid conversations regarding Frank's death, and my dimming prospects for remarriage.
***
"Leaving without saying good-bye? I’m hurt!” David said.
Katherine tried to hide her sigh. She’d been so close to a clean getaway. She dropped her bag to the boat pilot waiting below the ladder and turned to answer.
“David, a high-impact, deep-sea oil drill couldn’t pierce your heart. What do you want?”
“Nothing much,” he said, smiling in a way that made Katherine queasy. “I just had a little bon voyage present for you.”
He handed her an envelope, printed with the ARN! stationery.
“A very little one, I see. What is it?”
She took the documents out of the envelope.
“Just a couple of restraining orders.”
Katherine looked up, shocked. “For what?”
“To protect two babies I happen to care about.”
She sputtered.
“You will not abort our child,” David said sternly.
Katherine started to protest, but David cut her off.
“Don’t tell me that isn’t why you planned this little trip.” Katherine said coldly, “I won’t have to go to the trouble. You’re well aware of my medical history. I’ve never carried an embryo to term. The odds don’t improve with age. So I wouldn’t start calling myself ‘daddy’ just yet if I were you.
“What’s the other little document?”
“It protects Cthylla’s baby. I won’t allow you to kill and dissect it in the name of scientific research. I have the court’s backing on this,” he said.
“That’s a little premature too, don’t you think?” Katherine snapped at him. “Cthylla may eat all the eggs. She’s got an appetite that just won’t quit.”
“Then feed her more—or I’ll file a lawsuit against you for animal abuse and neglect, and toss in a wrongful death against you on behalf of Dr. Hydreah.”
Katherine’s eyes narrowed and she dropped her voice to a whisper. “You are way out of line! You have no right telling me what I ca
n or can’t do with my body, or with my project. I will appeal.”
“I had no doubt that you would,” David said. “But the babies are protected while we fight it out.”
***
Field Journal December 24
It's quiet, with just Cthylla and me in the lab. Everyone else has gone home for the holidays.
We were in a holding pattern while the eggs developed. We expected it to last several more months. Cthylla had other plans.
There were only three eggs left when I began my shift tonight. She was fussing with them more than usual. She kept prodding them with her tentacles, until at last, a small tear formed and a small tentacle poked out.
I turned the spotlight on and watched the entire birth through the telephoto lens. It took over an hour for the little guy to struggle out of the egg sack, with Mamma pacing nervously the whole time.
He's a translucent milky color. His pigment sacs should develop within a few weeks. For now, his internal organs are clearly visible. It was amazing to watch his little heart pumping.
He shares his mother's appetite. As soon as he escaped from his sack, he devoured the other two eggs.
From Cthylla's egg winnowing, and the newborn's first meal, I think it's safe to hypothesize that Cthylla will care former young, rather than abandon it, like others in her phylum.
The timing of the birth is an odd bit of irony... or was it planned? Perhaps Cthylla didn't want a crowd witnessing such a private event.
***
Field Journal December 25
I have named the baby Cthyhni.
I'm having great fun today dropping small fish into the tank, to assist Cthylla in her training of the little guy. He is a natural hunter, and seems to enjoy the thrill of the chase and kill more than the meal itself.
I had to pay a premium to get a delivery on Christmas, especially with the request for some smaller fish. But I consider it a Christmas present to myself and Cthylla.
I have decided not to recall the team today, despite the birth. Let them enjoy their holidays. I am quite capable of operating the cameras and equipment for observation. And I think Cthylla will appreciate a few days of quiet with her baby.
***
Field Journal December 31
Cthyhni is growing like wildfire, and cavorts around the tank in a manner more befitting a seal than an octopus! He is a delight to watch, and we're getting very little work done, other than observing his antics.
He is a master escape artist. There seems to be nothing we can do to make the tank escape-proof. Luckily, Cthylla doesn't let him wander far before she gently hauls him back in with one of her tentacles. The extra tentacles have reappeared. They're coming in handy.
The team is having a party in the mess hall. I should drop by and toast in the New Year with some apple juice. But first, I want to stop by the lab.
The team won't miss me. They'll probably enjoy themselves more with my absence.
Katherine hit the Save command and turned off her computer.
***
In the lab, the lights were turned down low. Katherine enjoyed the artificial twilight. She walked softly to the window of the tank and gently rested her forehead against the cool glass.
Cthylla ambled across the floor of the tank until she reached the window. She seemed to be studying Katherine. They watched each other, until Katherine felt a wet tentacle on her arm.
There was no mistaking the odd sensation of an octopus’ suction cups. Katherine turned slowly, so she wouldn’t frighten Cthyhni, but he was not there. It was only then Katherine realized the tentacle was far too large to belong to the baby. She turned back to face Cthylla, unafraid.
The tentacle grazed across her body until it reached the plump curve of her belly. The tentacle rested there, and Katherine had the eerie feeling Cthylla was familiar with human anatomy, and knew she was pregnant.
Cthyhni was close beside his mother, her arm wrapped lovingly around him.
A shock coursed through Cthylla’s tentacle and into Katherine’s womb. The scientist fell to the floor, convulsing.
In the tank, Cthyhni jerked and turned a ghostly white.
David Gaughan stepped from the shadows, gently picked the woman up, and carried her back to her room.
***
A medivac arrived within the hour. Katherine was groggy, but still fighting as Johnny Depone packed her things. David sat with her, trying to calm her down.
“You must go to the hospital, for the baby’s sake.”
“The miscarriage has already started. Nothing can stop that,” Katherine insisted.
“The doctors disagree. You have to go to the hospital and try.” “No!” Katherine howled. “The baby is going to die! Why can’t you accept that? I want to stay here! With Cthyhni, with the baby who will live!”
“You care more about a sea monster than a human!” David accused. “I care about what’s alive, rather than what’s dying in my womb!”
***
Personal Journal January 7
After much fighting with the obstetricians, they've finally relented and allowed me to have my computer. They got more than their share of concessions in exchange, though.
I am to be confined to bed for the duration of my pregnancy. It wasn't too hard to agree to that, as I still can't bring myself to believe for even one moment that the embryo inside me will live. However, between David's court orders and a doctor with no regard for my medical history, it seems we must all wait and see.
I miss the lab, and Cthylla and Cthyhni. And most of all, Helen.
I am tired of the moralizing, the pompous righteousness of all these men, who see me as nothing but a cold-hearted bitch who cares more for her work than her unborn child. What do they know of the pain I must endure as I wait, helpless, hopeless, and without distraction, as yet another child withers and dies in my womb?
How can they ever know what that does to your head and to your heart? I can not hope this child will live! My sanity will not hold if I love and lose another child.
***
Personal Journal January 15
I am receiving daily reports from Johnny Depone via E-mail. The news from the lab is as dreary as my own.
Little Cthyhni has stopped eating. And Cthylla is neglecting him.
They have asked me what to do.
As a scientist, I should tell them to continue observing them. An autopsy of Cthyhni would answer many of the questions we still have about this species. But there's been enough death on this mission, and chances are good Cthyhni would survive if we released him and his mother back into their natural habitat.
We will not be sacrificing everything. We can tag and monitor the two of them.
I should order a new insemination attempt. Several international zoos could advise us on the problems of captive breeding. All the evidence—from Cthylla's continued eating, to the birth of a single baby—suggests this species goes through more than one birth cycle. But I find I haven't the heart to order the procedure.
If Arkham Industries objects to my decision, I have complete faith in David to file the necessary legal documents to see that my will is carried out.
***
Personal Journal April 3
I gave birth to a beautiful little boy two days ago! He was three months premature, but healthy. So tiny and perfectly formed! David was by my side.
To my bitter disappointment, they heavily sedated me. I never thought I would be blessed with childbirth. It eats at me that I could not experience the event fully.
The birth was not an easy one. I had severe hemorrhaging, horrendous pain! In all honesty, I probably couldn't have handled it without the sedation.
There was a lot of tissue damage. I have sixty-five stitches! The nurse told me this was the obstetrician's most difficult delivery in his forty years of practice.
I suffered bizarre hallucinations from the drugs, and, at one point, David tells me I screamed out in abject terror. I remember the vision vividly. There was tremen
dous pain and a sickening sensation of wriggling as the baby passed through the outer canal. (I know that's impossible, as they completely numbed my pelvis and thighs.)
I thought I saw the doctor hold up a limp, wriggly mass of flesh, full of grasping tentacles dripping blood and gore. It emitted a high-pitched wail that drilled into my brain.
I saw David take it and hold it up, like a proud papa. One of the tentacles brushed across his cheek, leaving a trail of blood and slime. Then he handed the thing to Johnny Depone, who whisked it from the room!
I blacked out at that point, possibly from the pain. Obviously, my mind was still on my work, even at such a profound moment! But I can't help but hope Cthylla and her son are well, swimming free and swooping down on some unsuspecting monster of a fish.
But enough of such musings. David and the nurse are approaching. It's lunch time for the little one. Just four pounds and six ounces—how could one so small do so much damage to my womb! He has brown eyes, and just a hint of angel-white feathery hair. And Daddy say's he's hungry! We've named our little boy Keenan.
Table of Contents
Contents
The Swelling
The Disciple
A Colder War
The Ghoulish Wife
The Last Horror Out of Arkham
Harold’s Blues
Documents in the Case of Elizabeth Akeley
The Plague Jar
The Dead Man’s Hand
A Little Job in Arkham
In His Daughter’s Darkling Womb
Pyrate Cthulhu: Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos, Volume 1 (4.0) Page 24