A hiss sounded from the bedroom as he approached, and he opened the door to discover Meria sitting on the edge of the bed, a white cotton ball pinched between her fingers. She patted it across a long set of scratches on her forearm, hissing another breath in between her teeth.
"What happened?" he asked.
She startled at the sound of his voice, and looked up. Her eyes were wide, and she looked as if she'd been caught doing something nefarious. "Just disinfecting some scratches."
"Where'd you get the scratches?"
"I tried to pet the neighbor's cat. You know, that calico that always comes into our yard? Guess I caught her at a bad time."
Ted studied the dark brown stains on the shirt she wore. "Is that all your blood?"
"Of course it is. You think I killed the damn cat for scratching me?"
He hadn't thought of that at all. But now, hearing her say it in that hard tone of voice, he wondered. She wouldn't go that far, would she? "I got you some meat. Hungry?"
"Set it on the table, please. I'll have it once I'm done with this."
Normally, she grabbed the meat and ate it right away. She'd been starving when he left, writhing in pain.
Chills ran up his spine, and he backed out of the room.
***
A poster popped up on the neighborhood shared mailbox two days later. Missing: Shelly, calico cat. The picture was of the cat he'd seen and petted multiple times. She was a sweet girl, always quick to rub her body against someone's legs if they weren't paying the proper amount of attention to her. Her purr had always calmed him.
The cat Meria said had scratched her when she tried to pet it. Missing.
Over the course of the next couple weeks, more posters popped up. Cats and dogs. People's pets were disappearing.
No way his wife could be responsible. She loved animals. It was all a coincidence. Besides, someone would have caught her by now, and surely he would have found a body, some evidence, something.
There hadn't been any rabbits in the yard lately either. And there'd been a mess of feathers under a tree in the backyard just yesterday.
Stop it. You're being crazy.
But was he?
***
Ted woke up to a searing pain in his thigh. Something held him down.
He struggled, lashing out.
It held on, the pain continuing.
He jerked his leg back then shot it forward, thrashing to remove whatever was clamped down on it.
He could just make out a lump under the blanket. Had something gotten into the house?
Bringing the other leg toward his chest, he kicked as hard as he could, making contact with the lump. It was solid, but the kick loosened it. He kicked again, this time sending it and the blankets backward off the bed.
He jumped out onto the carpeted floor, and turned the light on.
The bed was empty. No Meria. No creature.
His thigh was missing a chunk, the flesh torn and ragged. Blood poured down his leg, plopping on the carpeting in fat, dark drops. The pain was intense. He slapped a hand over it, applying pressure.
He kept pressure on it as he crept around the foot of the bed. There, at the base, lay a series of lumps that led to a single leg sticking out from under the blanket. One long, pale, human leg. He grabbed an edge of the blanket and flipped it off the form of his unconscious wife. Blood dribbled down her chin and along her cheek, mouth wide open, eyes closed. He'd knocked her out.
Her stomach moved.
Guilt flooded him in a hot rush of shame. He picked her up and placed her on the bed, careful not to touch her stomach or the creature that moved inside it. He threw the covers over her then headed to the kitchen to grab a package of meat, of which only a small portion remained. He set this next to her so she'd discover it when she woke up.
That settled, Ted locked himself in the bathroom, finally allowing the heaving breaths of his panic to overtake him. There was a first aid kit under the sink, and he grabbed this, pulling out gauze and antiseptic cream. He couldn't go to the doctor, even though the wound could probably use stitches. Instead, he washed it with warm water and soap, which stung, amping the aching pain up by several increments. It took two packets of cream to cover every inch of the wound with a thick layer, and all of the gauze to wrap around his thigh multiple times.
There was no way he was going back out there, not and sleep next to that thing that had taken a chunk of him as he slept. Double checking the door lock, he climbed into the bathtub and thought about what to do. He couldn't leave her. She was pregnant with his child. But what else could he do? How could he stop this from happening again?
Something was terribly wrong with Meria for her to go this far. He'd convinced himself that she wouldn't harm the missing pets from the neighborhood, but maybe he'd been wrong. No, certainly he'd been wrong. His wife was possessed, maybe. And that called for a priest. He made a plan to find help tomorrow.
It took a long time, but he finally drifted off, curled into the fetal position in the tub.
***
Ted wasn't having any luck. He'd been told by one pastor to ask the Catholics. But even at the Catholic church, he was told they didn't do exorcisms. Instead, he was encouraged to seek mental healthcare for her.
He pulled up to his house in the evening, having been out all day on his mission. Exhaustion oozed through his body. A bag full of meat sat next to him, cool and bloody. She'd be beyond starving at this point; he'd left her alone all day.
His chest hurt with the panic he felt as he forced himself out of the car. He could feel the pulse leaping in his throat. The house was dark, the windows’ soul-less eyes watching him with a supernatural hunger. It took every inch of willpower in his body simply to put one foot in front of the other to approach the front door. Ted fumbled his keys out, fitting the right one into the lock. The sound of the tumblers in the deadbolt crashed and echoed around him. It startled him into stepping backward from the door. His heart leapt into his throat.
“This is your wife, you idiot,” he said aloud.
Sure, a wife who had woken him up by gnawing on his thigh the night before.
Taking a deep breath, Ted pushed the door open, slowly, quietly. He waited a beat before stepping into the darkened hallway. Every inch of him ached to turn on all the lights in the house, to make it blaze. Instead, he flipped on the hallway light and stood there a moment, scanning the house as far as the meager light reached. He didn’t want to wake her, to face that hunger and her keening voice.
Ted slid the door shut, locking the deadbolt out of habit. He put his keys on the table and slipped his shoes off. His stockinged feet muffled his steps as he walked down the hallway toward their bedroom.
He heard a rumbling snore, but it came from the kitchen to his right. The blood now pounded in his ears so loudly he could hardly hear over it. He peeked into the kitchen.
Meria slept on the floor in front of the fridge, her white nightgown covered in blood. Her hair was clotted with it on one side. An unpleasant, cloying stench reached his sinuses.
Underneath that smell was another, one of feces and urine, of human waste.
He entered the kitchen fully then reeled backward, tripping over a large bag laying to the side of the entry. His head and back slammed into the wall, reigniting the pain in his thigh and sending new pain shooting through skull and shoulder.
Beside her lay a man in a blue uniform. Their mailman. His button-up shirt was open, and a bloody, open wound gaped just above the nipple. His throat had been ripped open, blood puddling around his head and shoulders, a strip of skin hanging over the flap. On his thigh, exposed due to the pants being around his knees, was a series of different sized bites.
Ted was frozen, stuck in place. He could no more move than sing a sonata. His wife, his kind, beautiful, intelligent wife, had murdered a man and eaten him. Their mailman was slight, but it still seemed impossible for her to have overpowered a grown man. Sure, Ted had noticed an iron strength about his wife
lately. Instead of the soft roundness he had expected with pregnancy, she had become wiry and well-muscled. Yet was she this strong?
His breathing stopped when Meria stirred.
She stretched, a moan escaping. She rolled to her side, lay a hand on the mailman's chest. Ted waited for recognition of what she'd done to dawn on her. For her to freak out, back away, cry, something. Instead, she maneuvered herself into a better position and took another bite out of his chest, jerking her head side to side and pulling against the skin stretched taut between the body and her teeth.
She drew back, eyes glazed over. Thick blood dribbled down her chin. She didn’t appear to notice Ted. Some deep, dark, terrified part of him was glad of that. His instincts screamed for him to run, to hide. Predator, shrieked his reptilian brain.
She swept her tongue around her lips, licking off the gore. A bit of hairy skin clung to her bottom lip. She drew it in with her tongue, chewed. Then she stuck her tongue out, pulling a piece of hair off it, and returned to the man's chest, where she sucked loudly then bit down. Meria's head eased backward, eyes closing in bliss. She chewed purposefully.
Finishing the bite, Meria stilled. Her mouth hung open, a dribble of blood running down from one corner. A slight smile graced the edges of her lips, as did another clump of skin. Her cheeks were flushed, skin dewy. She looked healthier than she had in days. Weeks.
Confusion jumbled Ted's brain, a fog filling him from the head down. She was beautiful. He should feel revolted, and he did, but the woman he loved sat before him, glorious in a way she hadn't been for a while.
His gorge rose, and he barely managed to turn his head before retching onto the floor. He vomited until nothing but bile remained. The wretched taste of his stomach acid coated his tongue, the roof of his mouth. The smell assaulted him, bitter and sweet at the same time. He spit then cried like a child, lost and desperate, hands pressed to his head.
"Ted?" She looked around, looked down at the corpse beside her. Her eyes widened, lips drawing back from her teeth. "What have I done?"
His legs refused the command to run, but he also couldn't move toward her.
She gasped, her entire belly moving to the side. Her face scrunched, hands flying to her belly. Tears leapt to her eyes and she gasped out, “It hurts.”
One hand left her belly and reached for him. A small chunk of meat fell from her fingers and landed with a plop on the bloody floor.
He heard his own voice, desperate and pleading, repeating, “No, no, no. . .” His body trembled. The wall kept him penned, trapped.
Despite his fear, Meria did not come after him. She rocked and emitted a keening wail that made the hairs stand up on his entire body. It went on and on, his eardrums vibrating until the sound became staticky.
“Stop it!” he screamed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Without thinking, he reached up and to the side, feeling along the counter for something, anything, to defend himself with. His hand closed over the slim, smooth handle of a knife. He grabbed it, holding it before him.
Meria didn’t notice his approach. This had to end. This wasn’t his wife. What monster grew in her womb? He had to stop this before it was too late. His entire mind and body rebelled at the sight of her. A sensation rode his spine like something living, digging into his nerve endings and making him wish desperately for it all to stop.
Just as he stepped over her body and raised the knife in preparation to bring it down, Meria stopped her wailing, her mouth forming an “O” of surprise, eyes wide. Her stomach stilled, and with a gush of fluids, her water broke, spreading blood and viscous liquid across the kitchen floor to mingle with the gore already there. A startled sound escaped her lips. She looked up at him and smiled.
“The baby. It’s time!”
He paused. Now that she was looking up at him with that delighted smile on her face, he couldn’t quite bring himself to finish what he had started. Wasn't even sure what he'd been about to do. Attack her? Cut the baby out? He looked at her, looked at the knife, and dropped it. She took this all in, eyebrows creasing in puzzlement. He saw the moment she realized what he’d been doing, saw the hurt and fear cross her face, the tears flood her eyes.
“Let’s get you to the hospital, Meria. Your bag’s already packed.” They had packed it just last week, when she’d officially crossed the threshold into full term. He offered his arm. “Here, let me help you up.”
Tentatively, she reached for his arm and let him help her to standing, keeping her eyes on his. She bent over and gasped, sending him back into a fear spiral that once again she would begin to wail in that creepy and disturbing way, but she just began breathing in the rhythmic hee-hee-hoo way they had been taught in the birthing class. He went forward and took her in his arms again, holding her until the contraction finished. All he could think of now was getting her in the car and to the hospital.
Meria pulled back and looked at him, then down at herself. "We need to wash up before we go. And to clean up this mess."
This mess, he thought. A human life. He couldn't let anyone know she had resorted to this. He'd have to take care of the body, hide it. Bury it. Quickly.
"You get cleaned up. I'll take care of this."
She kissed him on the cheek, her lips sticky with blood.
He shuddered.
***
Nine hours of hard labor later, Meria gave the final push, letting out a guttural yell as she did so. The doctor pulled the baby free and sucked the fluid from its throat with a suction bulb.
Ted shrunk away from the doctor and Meria. He looked for any sign that his child was the abomination he feared it to be.
Smiles danced all around, and the nurses and doctor efficiently went about the business of weighing then swaddling the baby. A plump nurse put the wrapped baby on Meria’s chest. Meria beamed, taking the baby in her arms and nuzzling him, talking to him in an exhausted, but nurturing tone. Her face glowed as it had in the beginning of the pregnancy.
“Hello, sweet Jamie. I’m so happy to finally meet you.” Instead of the harsh, pained voice Ted had become accustomed to, she said this with a gentle coo and touched his tiny hand.
Jamie blinked up at his mother. From what Ted could see, his wife held a normal baby. Perfect, even. Everything he’d expected. Their classes had told him that purple color was normal. Otherwise, he was certain he would have run.
He inched forward, eager to see his child, yet still filled with trepidation that at any moment he would sprout horns and grow to ten times his current size.
Ted reached out a cautious hand and stroked a finger down his son’s velvety cheek. A gentle scent wafted into his nose, pushing out the various unpleasant scents of the hospital room, and he understood what they said about the baby smell. So soft, so sweet…so perfect. Meria hadn’t birthed a monster, after all. This was no demon or abomination, but an innocent child before him. His son! A dream come true. Ted moved all the way in and allowed himself to feel the pure joy and pleasure at finally seeing his baby boy. Meria looked so content that Ted felt further reassured.
The plump nurse stepped up, interrupting their reverie. “It’s recommended that you try to nurse him as soon as possible, so he can start getting the colostrum.”
Meria nodded and moved Jamie to her breast, opening the nursing flap on her hospital gown. She used her thumb to pull the bottom portion of his jaw down.
Ted gasped in horror as he saw his son open his mouth wide on his own, displaying a row of sharp teeth, before latching onto her exposed nipple. Meria gasped and let out a pained shriek as baby Jamie began to feed.
“It often hurts at first,” the nurse said, stroking the baby’s head.
Sound Advice
The highway was a grey ribbon leading into a dark nothing, yellow dashes an infinity. The monotony was broken only by a rodent skittering across here, a crack in the pavement there. No other cars passed the minivan as it marched onward through New Mexico toward its vacation destination in California.
Inside the shell of the van were one sleeping child and his parents, who were awake, but just barely. Glazed eyes stared out into the darkness, hands clutching coffee cups from the last gas station they’d passed. The rich scent of coffee mingled with the salty-fat odor of old fast food and the sweat born of a day in a hot car.
“This sure is a dull drive, isn’t it?”
“It is at night.”
“Hey, Marcy?”
“Yeah?”
“About earlier, I—”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now. This is our vacation.”
“I still think we should discuss it.”
“Bill, I said I don’t want to talk about it, and I meant it.”
Bill glanced over at his wife. She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, body rigid. He’d known she’d find out some day, but he’d been hoping he’d have good news by the time she did. It had been intended as a happy surprise, not an expensive failure.
The silence in the car seemed to invite the darkness in. The headlights washed over an animal hunched on the side of the road. Its eyes glared at him, red and oddly large. A shiver crawled up his spine and he shook it off, trying to catch a glimpse of it in his rearview. It was gone, just as quickly as it had appeared, and he looked ahead again.
“Did you see that coyote, Marce?”
In answer she leaned forward and turned the radio on, scanning through the staticky stations for some music. The white noise grated on his nerves, practically making his spine itch with irritation. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, a deep, pleasant voice sounded, loud and clear.
“Hello, the Rez! This is Joe Ravenshadow, coming on for the night. How about a little Creedence to keep away the night creatures?”
The familiar notes of Bad Moon Rising floated out of the radio. Bill felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up as he thought about the animal he’d seen. He knew he was being silly, letting himself get the heebie-jeebies like this, but he couldn’t help it. There’d been something about the animal—it had looked deformed, appearing more human than animal. And those eyes…
Blue Sludge Blues & Other Abominations Page 9