Fear Factors

by Peter Sacco

  “Do you know what I’m going to do first?” asked Hester.

  “What?” asked Martin, curiously.

  “I’m going to make love to you.”

  Martin was definitely at a loss for words. It had definitely been years. Had he forgotten how? Hester was offering. He never thought they would ever again. Might as well get it while you can. The last thing on his mind now was Harris, his paper and his wife’s desire to work. Hester was back!

  ***

  Six and a half months had passed since the operation. It was now years since Hester had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. Hester truly felt as if she was living a third life within the last four years. She had been working steadily part-time. She and Martin had been doing more things together. Martin had been taking more time off from work. He hired a second senior editor, something he would never have dreamt of doing in years past, to make more time for Hester. They truly believed all heartache was left behind them only to find out the rockiest road was yet to be traveled.

  Hester and Martin were attending a Broadway production on a Saturday evening. Martin had received two box seat tickets from his accountant who was unable to make the show. The show was not even an hour old when the dizzy spells came back. These were more than just the simple dizzy spells that Hester had experienced previously. They were to become the mother of all spells. Martin thought Hester was getting up to make herself more comfortable. The spell was so bad it nearly caused Hester to fall over the rail. She fell back into Martin’s lap. People seated across from them were the only ones to observe the stagger. Martin, confused by what had happened, jumped up from his seat while holding Hester. Hester looked up at Martin and smiled. “They’re back.”

  Martin carried Hester out from the private box and made her lie down on the sofa in the waiting room. An usher went to get Hester a glass of water.

  “We’re going to go to emergency,” sighed Martin.

  “I think that it’s gone,” clamored Hester.

  “I don’t give a shit. We’re not going to take any chances.”

  “For crying out loud Martin, I’m all right.”

  Just then Hester let out a piercing shriek. The usher came running with the glass of water. Hester violently grabbed at her head. Martin tried diligently to calm her. The pain was getting worse. Hester was screaming like she was possessed.

  “I can’t take it! I can’t take it!” screamed Hester.

  “Get me a damn ambulance!” shouted Martin.

  The usher disappeared once more.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” Martin spoke in a soft voice.

  “The pain Martin! The pain!” shrieked Hester.

  The couple in the box next to the Tanners’ came to the door to see what all the ruckus was about. The man shook his head and rudely closed the door before mumbling “You’d swear she was having a baby.”

  Meanwhile, the pain was so bad that Hester was beginning to convulse. Her body was beginning to toss on the sofa like a fresh catch flipping around on a hot, dry dock.

  “The ambulance is on its way,” panted the usher who came running back.

  The usher watched in fear as Martin tried to stop his wife’s body from convulsing. The scene reminded the usher of a movie he had seen that afternoon. In the movie, an electrician was electrocuted and his buddy was trying to save him by pulling him off the line. So desperate he wasn’t thinking logically and he grabbed his buddy’s free arm instead of bumping him. Before he knew what hit him, he was getting zapped just like his pal. Martin was now being tossed around just like the buddy in the movie.

  The paramedics had to strap Hester down on the stretcher. They had one hell of a time with her arms and head flailing about. One of the paramedics made the comment that he could not recall a woman of Hester’s age being so strong. The other paramedic added under his breath that she didn’t need a doctor, she needed an exorcist.

  Harris was waiting for them at the hospital. After seeing Hester in the state she was in he ordered she be placed on valium. He then had her booked into a room for the night. As Hester was being wheeled down the corridor, Harris stopped Martin by grabbing his sleeve. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” struggled an exasperated Martin.

  Hester was hospitalized for the weekend. They would have to wait until Monday to run a PET scan. The staff did not work on weekends. Hester was heavily sedated in a private room with Martin at her side. Late Sunday afternoon, Hester awoke and, through her delirium, saw Martin seated next to her. She struggled to talk, but nothing came out. Martin poured a fresh glass of water for her. She took a few sips and her whispered words froze Martin’s blood. “It wants to get out.”

  Martin looked at his wife, dumbfounded.

  “I can hear its cries,” whispered Hester.

  Martin made her sip more water. She was very delirious. He had wished she would sleep until Monday, but the nurse would be by soon with her dinner. Harris did not want Hester on IV. He wanted her awake. He told Martin that it would be better if she ate and drank of her own accord. The real reason, however, Harris wanted her awake was he had worried she might slip into a coma. He did not tell this to Martin. If it happened, it happened. There would be nothing anyone could do until they conducted the PET. Why upset Martin any further?

  At five-thirty, a young male nurse brought Hester her dinner. She was more alert now. For the last hour she had babbled about it wanting to come out. She had even told Martin she could hear it crying. Each time, Martin made her drink more water. The pitcher of water was almost empty. The orderly was going to be working overtime emptying her bedpan.

  After dinner was brought to Hester, Martin stretched and positioned himself comfortably beside her. He was going to feed her. Hester ate for ten minutes and then dozed off. The meal for the evening was chipped beef resembling Rawlings leather. Martin had a hell of a time cutting through it, knife and all. Hester had eaten enough and Martin thought it would be a good time to catch a bite himself. There was enough chipped beef and veggies left, but never. Not on your life! Martin kissed Hester on the forehead and left for the diner across the street. He would be back in half an hour. The door closed slowly behind Martin. Hester’s eyes opened immediately. She scanned the room for life. No one was home. She now had the moment she had waited for. The idea popped into her head like a light bulb, or perhaps something smaller, as there was not a hell of a lot of room in the old noggin. The dinner tray was resting on the swinging table in front of her. If she could just prop herself forward enough, she could reach it. Someone was outside the door. She slouched back down and closed her eyes. She could barely make out the shape of the male nurse through tiny cracks. He had brought a large pitcher of water with him and left it on the night stand. He stopped for a moment and glanced at the food tray.

  Don’t you dare take it, thought Hester. The nurse finally left the room, without the tray. Hester slowly opened her eyes and sighed. She forced herself forward and grabbed at the tray. Her right hand fell short. She propped herself up higher and threw her right hand forward, again. It was now resting on the tray. She seized the instrument of choice in her right hand and studied it. She examined the residue of chipped beef on its dull blade. It would have to do. She would just have to make the best of it. Hester brought the knife to her mouth and kissed it. Holding the knife in her right hand, she then raised it over her head. She lightly tapped it’s point on the top of her scalp. The small amount of pain caused her to wince. She was going to do what needed to be done. She was going to let ‘it’ out.

  ***

  Dinner at the diner had been a break from reality for Martin. He had a big, thick, juicy burger with golden onion rings. He was definitely certain the meal would not help his cholesterol or his ulcer. Martin watched the waitress refill the ketchup bottles. Martin thought back to when he was a little boy and how he
used to love eating ketchup right from the bottle. His father had pegged him as taking after his wife’s side of the family for being so weird. This memory caused Martin’s mouth to form a tiny grin.

  “Those were the days,” he whispered.

  The hair on the back of Martin’s neck stood on end as he walked into Hester’s room and she was not there. Even more horrific was the blood all over the pillows and the bed. Martin choked on his bile as he bolted from the room. What the hell had happened? Where the hell was Hester?

  As Martin approached the nurses’ station, he flagged down a male nurse. “Where the hell’s my wife?”

  “She’s in the operating room.”

  “In the operating room! In the operating room?”

  “Yes sir...”

  “What the hell’s happened?” Martin interrupted.

  “Your wife tried... I mean...”

  Dr. Harris stormed out of the elevator. Martin pushed past the nurse and met Harris. “What’s going on, Peter? “ Martin bellowed.

  “Hester tried to take her life. She butchered her skull pretty bad.”

  “Hester did what?” Martin shouted.

  A stunned-looking Harris grimaced at Martin.

  “You don’t know what happened?” asked Harris.

  “No, I don’t, pleaded a worried and confused Martin.” I just got back from dinner.”

  “Martin, it appears that Hester may have caused herself minor damage. Her actions have resulted in an excess fluid build-up in the brain. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like she’s resembling someone who has just had a brain aneurysm.”

  “Oh my God.” whimpered a beleaguered Martin.

  “We might have to go in and see the extent of the damage,” said Harris.

  “When?” whispered Martin.

  “I have to start now, Martin.”

  “Please save her. She’s all I’ve got,” cried Martin.

  “I’ll do what I can.” Harris ran down the hall, as Martin slouched up against the wall. Martin began to weep.

  Hester lay lifeless in her surgical garments as tubes protruded out of her head like electrical cords out of a power-bar. The surgical team gathered around awaiting Harris. The surgical team, dressed in ocean blue, resembled a group of aliens conducting experiments on their human specimen. Mozart’s Flute Quartet in G major softly flooded the operating room.

  Harris finally arrived and was ready to give the performance of his life. Harris ordered the already shaved head be cut open with the saw. The incisions were relatively the same as where Lambert had cut previously. Harris used the scars as guides. The scalp and bone were slowly peeled away from the rest of the skull.

  Sweat had already started to form aqueducts at the bridges of Harris’ nose. The damage that Hester had caused was worse than Harris had first thought. The brain was more swollen than he had anticipated. Both the frontal and parietal lobes looked as though they have been blown up by balloons. The team of surgeons gasped at the sight of the brain. Harris ordered suction to clean the thick bloody residue and cranial fluid that had seeped onto the brain. As the brain became more visible, so did the swelling. The operation lights began to reveal an unusual growth in the frontal lobe. The brain was almost clean. The swelling was becoming more lucid. It appeared to be more than just swelling. Harris could not believe what he saw. One of the operating nurses had to turn to vomit.

  “Good Lord!” moaned a disbelieving Harris.

  Several members of the team leaned forward for a better look.

  “It’s looking right at me. It’s alive! “ struggled Harris.

  The eyes of a fully matured dwarf fetus stared into Harris’s eyes. He noticed the absence of its limbs, eyelids, nose and chin. The fetus was smaller than the palm of his hand, and as thick as a computer mouse. And the worst part of it all was, “It’s alive!” he whispered.

  “I’ve never seen anything in all my years,” one of the surgeons stuttered.

  “Never,” added Harris. “How’s it possible?”

  “It’s amazing!” added a surgeon.

  Seven hours later in the waiting room, Martin was seated in much the same state as he was for the Lambert surgery. A mentally and physically exhausted Harris walked into the room and sat next to Martin. Martin could read the glum expression on Harris’ face. There was also a glisten of perplexity in his eyes. Martin struggled for words as Harris stared ahead still in somewhat of a daze.

  “She didn’t make did she?” Martin whispered.

  Harris’ gaze was still fixed.

  “She’s going to live Martin, but she’s going only to have the use of her right side.”

  “She’s going to live?” asked a relieved but astonished Martin.

  “That’s not all,” added Harris.

  Martin stared at Harris who turned and grimly faced Martin.

  “You’re also a new dad.”

  Chapter Eight

  Trick Or Dream

  Sarah Carter lay asleep on the couch on a dark and uncanny Halloween evening. The green striped colonial chesterfield rested in the middle of the large family room. The room was dark, except for the light from the television screen which reflected off the brown paneled walls. Sarah rolled over onto her side and resumed her dream. The television speaker screamed as the werewolf from Stephen King’s Silver Bullet, palmed off the side of another victim’s face. Sarah’s dream became more lucid.

  The wind whistled through the breezeway that led to the Carter home. A large, deformed jack-o-lantern smiled a sarcastic grin at the children who came trick-or-treating. Young Jack Carter struggled hopelessly to tie his vampire cape around his neck. Mary Carter distributed treats to the children at the door. As she was about to close the door, two eleven-year-old boys pushed their way into the house. The larger of the two boys, Henry, was dressed as the Incredible Hulk. Green make-up dripped from his sweaty chin. Malcolm, the smaller boy, was dressed as Beevis, a character from the Beevis and Butt-Head Show.

  “Can I help you kids?” asked a surprised Mary Carter.

  At that moment, Jack finally got the cape tied around his neck and glanced at to the two boys standing in the doorway. “It’s all right, mom,” laughed Jack, “It’s only Henry and the Milkman.”

  Mary Carter stares at the two boys for a moment and suddenly recognizes them. “I’ll be! The two of you definitely fooled me.”

  “See milkman, I told you these costumes were perfectomundo!”

  “What did I tell you about calling me that name, Henry?” warned Malcolm annoyed.

  Henry flicked the back of Malcolm’s ear and told him to shut up. Jack impatiently put his vampire fangs into his mouth.

  “Great costume, Jack,” complimented Malcolm.

  “Yeah, how original,” snickered Henry sarcastically.

  “We’re leaving now,” slobbered Jack.

  “Can’t understand a word you are saying, honey.”

  Impatiently, Jack removed the teeth out of his mouth and sighed. “We’re going now!”

  “Oh no, no young man!” replied Mrs. Carter shaking her head. “You heard what your father said.”

  Henry nudged Jack in the back. “What did your father say?” he whispered.

  Jack turned to the two boys and angrily shook his head. “My father thinks we aren’t old enough to go out by ourselves.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” quipped Henry.

  Mrs. Carter shrugged her shoulders and went to the door for the next round of trick or treaters. “Sorry, boys, but those are the breaks. Jack’s father is going to go out with you.”

  Sarah Carter walked into the foyer and snickered. “My, my, the children are going out to get their candy.”

  “Go to hell, Sarah!” snapped Jack.

  Mrs. Carter turned to Jack and offered
him a look of contempt. Jack replied to her gaze by raising his arms as if to plead innocent.

  “Hey, she started it!”

  “I don’t care who started it,” replied Mrs. Carter, “I won’t have that kind of language in this house.”

  As she closed the door and walked back towards the kitchen, Jack Carter, the elder, came down the stairs.

  “What language won’t you have in this house?” he asked, glancing sharply, first at Jack, then Sarah.

  “Oh nothing dear. It’s all been taken care of,” smiled Mrs. Carter.

  Jack studied his son, and the two boys. “You guys ready to go?” asked Mr. Carter.

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” answered Jack resignedly.

  “Baste me, taste me, waste me,” replied Henry under his breath. Mr. Carter glanced into the kitchen at his daughter as she poured herself a glass of milk.

  “Sure you don’t want to come, Sarah?” smiled Mr. Carter.

  Sarah offered her father a smile. “Be real, dad. I’m going on fourteen. Like I think not.” Sarah took a gulp from her glass of milk. “I think I’ll watch a scary movie, and maybe pig out on some of Jackie’s candies when he gets back,” smiled Sarah, glancing over at her brother.

  “I doubt it, sis,” replied Jack.

  The boys headed out the front door, with Mr. Carter following them after giving his wife a small peck on the cheek.

  “No snacking along the way,” shouted Mrs. Carter after the boys.

  “Don’t worry, dear, I’ve got things covered,” yelled Mr. Carter as he walked out the door.

  Sarah asked her mother if she needed any help handing out candies to the kids. Her mother shook her head and Sarah made her way to the family room. Upon arriving, she briskly grabbed the remote from atop the television and clicked it on. Erie sounds were dispatched from the television’s speakers and quickly filled the room with the sounds of Halloween. Sarah flopped down on the couch and fixed her body into a comfortable position. She switched off the table lamp. She could feel her eyelids weighing down like anchors. Before she knew what hit her, Sarah fell into a restful slumber on the couch. She had been working hard all day long on a project for school, and finally her energy had run out.