Stork

by Shane McKenzie

  She reached past the metal rods in the box and pulled out the book. Bloody fingerprints stained the cover and some of the pages were matted together with gore, but Suzey ignored all that, cracked it open and read the first line.

  “On the last house in a little village the storks had built a nest, and the mother stork sat in it with her four young ones, who stretched out their necks and pointed their black beaks which had not yet turned red like those of the parent birds.” She spoke the words out loud past clenched teeth, her molars grinding together. The pages rustled as she trembled.

  The old woman’s picture was back in her hand, the book on the floor now. She didn’t remember setting the book down, didn’t remember picking the photo back up. The jagged glass bit into the tips of her fingers, but she only gripped it harder.

  I know where you live. I know exactly where you live. And I think it’s time the devil’s spawn paid you a long overdue visit.

  And then she was on her feet, just a hint of breaking glass somewhere beneath her. Then at the front door.

  Visions of electrical cords slicing through the air whipped her mind, the sharp smacks of pain striping her body, breaking her skin. The taste of her screams coated with tears and mucus filled her mouth.

  The feel of cold metal entering her, deep, further and further, deflating the life that grew there. In and out and in and out, over and over and over again.

  And then she was outside, the hot sun assaulting her with its rays, drying the blood on her fingers. The fingers gripped something, and she looked down to see the electrical cord swinging from her grasp, wrapped tight around her palm and turning the flesh there white. Where did that come from? she thought.

  With her free hand, she fondled her belly, then took steps down her driveway.

  And then she was at Grandma’s house. Her lip curled and she snarled as she stared at the front door, knowing the woman who tortured her as a child lay comfortably inside.

  I’m home, Grandma. Finally home. And I have a story to tell you.

  ***

  Eddie walked through the aisle until he reached his seat—a window seat, thank god—shoved his carryon into the overhead, then sidestepped his way to his chair. An elderly woman sat in the aisle seat, turned toward him and smiled.

  “Always nice to have a handsome young man beside me,” she said, then reached out and patted his knee.

  “Not as nice as sharing knee space with such a gorgeous woman. If I was only ten years younger…”

  She giggled, put a hand to her chest. “Young man, behave yourself.”

  They smiled at each other for another couple of seconds before Eddie turned to the window and watched the men load up the luggage.

  “Going home or leaving home, dear?”

  This is going to be a long flight, he thought. Looks like a nap is out of the question. “Going home. To a pregnant wife, actually.”

  “Oh, how lovely. I’m sure she’s very pretty.” Eddie couldn’t help but sense the disappointment in the woman’s tone.

  “Most beautiful woman on this planet.”

  “Mmm hmm.” She suddenly found the inflight magazines to be quite interesting, plucked one from the seat pocket in front of her and flipped through it.

  Thank god.

  Eddie turned back to the window and leaned his head against it, but just as his eyelids began to shut, a vibration tickled his thigh.

  Hoping it was Suzey, he jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled his phone out. But it was only an email from Paula with a message: “Thought you’d like to see this. Who was this lady anyway?”

  Eddie’s brow creased as he opened the email. A news article, the local paper in Travis.

  Elderly woman found murdered inside of her home.

  He checked the date, blinked, double checked it. Eleven years ago. A picture of the old woman sat in a floating box above the article, her face expressionless, no hint of joy or happiness. She was all scowl, cold and hard.

  Joyce Bastion, sixty-five years old, was found dead in her bedroom on Sunday evening when her neighbor noticed the smell coming from the woman’s home. Multiple lacerations and blunt trauma to the head were said to be the cause of death. Bastion, widow and mother to a deceased daughter, lived alone according to the neighbor. “Always kept to herself, didn’t leave the house much. I just don’t know who would do something like this to such a sweet old lady.”

  Eddie let the phone slip from his sweaty palm and clatter to the floor. His mouth dried up and he tried to swallow, but couldn’t conjure the saliva. The seat in front of him blurred as he lost himself in his thoughts.

  “You dropped your phone, dear. You…are you all right?”

  He heard the voice, but didn’t register it was aimed at him until the fragile hand touched his knee. His body flinched and the woman retracted her hand and gasped.

  “I’m…I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine, I’m fine.” He looked into her face and almost jumped again at the wrinkled skin, the pale eyes, the silver hair. “Just…just tired, that’s all. Dead tired.”

  “Oh, I know all about tired, dear. You know, I…”

  As the woman jabbered on about god knows what, Eddie stared back out of the window, manners forgotten, and wondered what in the world all of this could mean. A ding echoed in the cabin and the pilot began his speech.

  When the plane finally rolled toward the runway, Eddie didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

  ***

  There she was, in her chair, rocking…rocking. The television was on, a gameshow, spin the wheel, win a prize.

  “I’m home,” Suzey said.

  The old woman leapt from her chair and turned to face her. “My god, missy. You scared me half to death.”

  “It’s been a long time, but I’m finally home. You were right, you know. Right about everything.”

  Grandma tried to fake a smile, massaged her hands as she took shuffling steps forward. “I don’t mind you coming to visit me, missy, but a courtesy knock would be welcome next time.”

  “But you didn’t have to treat me the way you did.”

  “I what?”

  “You could have loved me…cared for me. Things didn’t have to turn out this way, Grandma. You know? Maybe you could have helped me.” She reached down and grabbed the other end of the cord, snapped it tight between her fists sending a deafening crack through the air.

  “Now wait just a minute—”

  “Stork, stork, fly away.”

  Whap!

  The cord sliced through the air in a vicious arc that walloped the old woman on the side of the neck and down her shoulder. She gasped, moaned, and fell backward. Her backside made a loud thud and she rocked herself and gripped her hips with quivering hands.

  “Stand not on one leg, I pray.”

  Whap!

  A long red welt rose on the woman’s arm as the cord smacked it, wrapped around it. Suzey ripped it away, bared her teeth.

  “P-please…please stop. Why a-re you…why—”

  “See your wife is in her nest, with her little ones at rest.”

  Suzey swung her foot and connected with the underside of the woman’s chin. The false teeth shattered and clattered to the floor like broken egg shells, stained red and dripping with spittle. The woman lay on her back, kicking her legs to try and scoot away from her attacker, but there wasn’t enough strength to carry her far. A high-pitched whimper rattled lightly from her mouth, like air escaping a balloon.

  “Don’t k-kill me. Don’t…please d-don’t…”

  “They will hang one, and fry another.” Suzey crushed the broken denture pieces as she pursued the old woman.

  Trying to act innocent, trying to beg for mercy. The nerve…the fucking audacity of this woman.

  “You take it…take w-whatever you want. Just l-leave m-my home…just leave me be…”

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  Suzey screamed as her arm grew a mind of its own, a mind thirsty for blood and revenge. The cord flayed strips of flesh a
way from the woman’s face, arms, and chest. Skin opened, leaked blood onto the carpet. Grandma had ceased all screaming, all begging, and curled into a protective ball, just the way Suzey used to do. The woman’s bowels released, her bladder deflated, formed an odiferous puddle around her pitiful body.

  “They will shoot a third, and roast his brother.” The pistol had been tucked in her waistline at her back, and her hand reached around, grabbed hold of it, pulled it around front. Suzey didn’t remember bringing it, but her hand knew it was there. Grandma’s white fluff of hair was soaked in red and yellow and brown, and Suzey buried the barrel there, pressed down until she felt skull, and pulled the trigger. She stood there for a few minutes, watching the blood puddle grow, soak into the carpet, reach to the kitchen linoleum and skate across its surface. Then she leaned over, put her mouth right to Grandma’s ear. “I’m evil after all, Grandma. No soul. An empty shell, just like you said. But not my baby.” She ran her fingertips over her belly and smiled. “The stork will bring my baby a soul…I’ll make him do it.”

  ***

  Suzey lay on her bed, hands blood-stained and shaking. Her thoughts were cloudy, muddy, and she couldn’t put the pieces together. She remembered finding the box, remembered the metal rods that lay within it, stained with old, dried blood that covered half the length of each one. But that box still lay on the living room floor, away from her.

  My…my babies.

  She couldn’t look at the rods, didn’t like the memories they conjured. And the book was there, caked with blood. Just seeing it there, seeing the cartoon stork on the cover, caused the story to recite itself within her head, non-stop, over and over.

  And she remembered finding Grandma. There was yelling, a possible struggle, but it could have all been a dream. She thought she remembered the sun on her skin, but she wasn’t sure if she ever left the house.

  But the blood. Where did all the blood come from?

  A wave of panic set in and she bent over, peered at the crotch of her pants, but it was clean, no sign of trauma. A sigh of relief blew from her lips and she allowed herself to sink backward into the bed, let the pillow embrace her and squash under her.

  The broken glass…I just cut myself on the broken glass, that’s all.

  Her eyelids gained weight and she was powerless to fight them as they lowered and sleep scraped away at her consciousness.

  An old woman stood at the end of her bed, smiling at her, tossing torn bits of hot dog bun onto the sheets. Blood oozed from between her teeth and striped her chin before dripping to the floor. Red wounds like zebra stripes streaked across her flesh, seeped globs of thick blood like mouths spitting out chewed food.

  “They’re good luck, you know.” she said.

  Suzey shot up to a sitting position, scooted backward and kicked her comforter toward the bleeding woman. Balls of bread, soaked in blood, bounced off her body, her face. “What are you…why are you here?”

  “Greeks thought the stork was a baby thief, can you believe that?”

  “Get out of my house…go. Leave!”

  The windows blew open, crashed against the wall. Glass tinkled and rained to the floor and a cloud of white feathers burst in, swirled until landing gently on Suzey’s bed.

  And then the stork entered, stood on the windowsill with one foot, its neck stretching into the room and pointing its long, red beak at Suzey. It opened its mouth and hissed, extended its wings and flapped a whirlwind of hot air over Suzey’s body, burning like car exhaust.

  “Good luck…good luck…”

  Sloppy mounds of bloody bread slapped Suzey in the face, piled up on the bed. The woman smiled and bled.

  “No, no. Please no!”

  The stork, its feathers soggy and hanging from its body, patches of gray skin showing through, hopped into the room. When it flapped its wings again, the cries and whimpers of children filled the air, tortured faces pressed tight against the stork’s exposed skin, as if trying to escape from its stomach.

  Its eyes glowed red, and as it strutted to the foot of the bed, its wet webbed feet slapping against the floor, soaking dirty pond water into the carpet, its head bobbed back and forth atop its rubbery neck.

  “Baby thieves, missy.” And the old woman took hold of Suzey’s ankles, spread them apart with unnatural power.

  Suzey’s joints popped and she screamed, tried to fight and kick the woman away, but was powerless against the woman’s strength. When her legs were pulled apart as far as they would go, a piercing wail exploded from her birth canal, blew with such force, it swept the old woman off her feet and into the next room.

  My baby!

  The stork was unaffected and stood its ground, peered into her womanhood with a stretch of its neck.

  Her baby cried, long and hard, and she thought she could feel it retreating deeper inside of her, trying to hide from the devil bird.

  “Please…”

  And then the beak was in her, digging deep, to her core, and her baby screamed.

  ***

  When the plane finally landed after what felt like an eternity in the air, Eddie dialed Suzey’s number before the captain said it was okay to do so.

  Straight to voicemail again.

  “Shit! Goddamnit!”

  “You okay—”

  “Will you please leave me the fuck alone and mind your fucking business?”

  The woman gasped, stood and turned her back to Eddie as the other passengers exchanged looks and shot glances his way.

  He ignored them all and dialed 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1 emergency, do you need police, fire, or EMS?”

  “Police, police please. I need someone to do a welfare check on my wife, I’ve been calling and she won’t answer and I think she may be in some kind of trouble.”

  The operator got the address, assured Eddie they would be there as soon as possible, but Eddie planned on beating them there. Just as the Safe to Unbuckle Your Seatbelts sign lit up, he forced his way through the crowd, leaving his carryon behind, and exploded out of the plane.

  Raised voices and curse words were fired in his direction from behind, but he pushed on, sprinted into the terminal, down the escalator, and through the doors.

  “Emergency…I have an emergency,” he told the woman whose cab he had just confiscated. She stood outside with her arms in the air.

  “Nice one, buddy,” the cabbie said. “She looked like a snobby bitch anyway. Where to?”

  Eddie shouted the address. “Please, man, as fast as you can. Huge tip for you, okay? Go, go, go.”

  “You got it, buddy.”

  And they peeled off, zoomed around cars, and screeched onto the highway toward home.

  Eddie didn’t know what he’d do when he got there, didn’t know what he’d say to his wife, but all he could think about right now was getting home.

  ***

  Suzey awoke screaming and thrashing. Feathers floated all around her, coated the bed, and for a moment, she thought the stork was there, in her arms, fighting with her, but she saw that it was her pillow, torn open and spewing its innards. Long deep breaths inflated her lungs and she wiped the sweat dripping from her face.

  Jesus Christ…it felt so real.

  She could still feel the stork’s beak inside of her, tunneling, searching for her baby. A rhythmic throb pulsed between her legs, and she winced, fell from her bed and writhed on the floor.

  The old woman…why was she in my dream?

  “Eddie?” No answer. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, and she knew he was due home sometime today. Her cell phone lay in pieces on the floor, and she cursed herself for breaking it, longed to hear her husband’s voice.

  Her eyes flew to the window, but it was shut tight. The image of the massive bird smashing into the room through that window still haunted her. The cries of the children vibrated through her flesh and refused to stop.

  No, I won’t let it have my baby.

  “You can’t have my fucking baby!”

  Eddi
e’s pistol lay on the end table by the bed, and she grabbed it, squeezed it. Bloody fingerprints dotted the handle, and she wondered where they came from for a moment, but shooed the thoughts away as she tightened the laces on her running shoes.

  The sun was still out, though the hottest part of the day had passed. In the distance, the pond water sparkled, and her eyes danced across the surface, in search of her nemesis.

  Can’t have him…can’t have my baby.

  She launched from her doorstep in a full sprint, gun in hand. Heads swung in her direction, loud words were launched at her, but she ignored all of that. Joggers and dog-walkers and people pushing strollers, every one of them parted, moved out of her way as if they understood the magnitude of her mission, knew what she had to do.

  The lone duck floated happily in the center of the pond, dunking its head to cool off every few seconds. It swam in the opposite direction when Suzey came storming by, quacked to show its disapproval, then finally took to the air. It could sense my anger, Suzey thought. Knows I’ve come to cloud the water with fowl blood.

  The elderly couple with the black labs walked by as Suzey stood at the edge of the pond, gun out in front of her, sweeping the water.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” a male voice said. “We got kids around here, lady.”

  Suzey heard the words but didn’t acknowledge them. She breathed deeply through her mouth as she searched, but didn’t see the bird anywhere.

  “Did you hear me, goddamnit? We’re calling the cops.”

  Suzey swung the pistol around and aimed it at the couple. “Where is it?”

  The woman screamed and fell to the ground, covered her head with her arms. The dogs barked, yanked on their leashes and snapped.

  “Calm down…just stay calm,” the man said, gripping the leashes with one hand and holding out the other. He fell to his knees, said something softly to his wife.

  Suzey growled, left the quivering couple behind as she jogged around the bend and searched the other side of the pond. She would find the son of a bitch, she knew. If it took all fucking night, she would find him.