by Peter Ackers
20
I didn’t find it in the trunk until today, during a casual search. Casual!! A pregnancy test. Positive. She says. Maybe a planted agent would say that. Aaah, have to trust her! Won’t let me supervise. Naughty paranoid! She will have someones baby soon, my plan will work. I will be out, but out into what? I care not. There is enough food and water here, of sorts, to keep us for maybe a year. Plenty of time. Plenty of time. Tough job, bringing up a child. Books to teach him, lightbulbs to see by, food and water for his growing bones!!!! Plenty of everything. They have thought this one out. But I am smarter, ha! Wait and see.
December 25
If I’m counting my days right, it’s Christmas. L’s stomach is showing. She carries success and safety. But I will write less now, because I was wrong earlier. Not plenty of everything. Not. Just this one pen. And just one notepad. Must not ramble. Not. But the ironic thing is this: I WANT to write, write and write, it comes to me succinctly (see!!!!) though I forget my own name at times.
March 18 1984 (or not)
Sickness. Thin and weak. Vomiting, L. Ha, guess that means it’s morning. Ha ha. If she loses our baby, hope is lost too. Baby just few months away now. We have decided on Joey for a boy, and Lisa for a girl. Purpose and reason. Karma.
March 22
Baby born. Premature. L says it looks wrong, but she’s just scared about early birth. I’m da surgeon here and I blame the conditions. Stale air, no real food, no exercise except daily grind looking for things I missed, like hopefully seams in the walls, other. Sores from all the lying down. I suspect cameras, though. nudity for my viewers. Nice That lightbulb… mebbe me wanna smash it, hide from their eyes, he he, made a lasso from tails of creatures, but nowt to use it on yet.
April 3
L dead, but I not sad. Not while turtle-spider tastes so foul. She will nourish our bodies, making strong da father and da son for the tasks ahead. Joey is indeed deformed as L suspected, for he seems to have no real mouth or ears or eyes. He will not hear, see or speak to me. Is this another test? How does man teach such a child?!?
April 8
I put it off until today. Joey fits under the door. Took summa L’s skin, strips tied together, a fine leash. Tried to use the lasso of tails, but he likes its smell and wants to eat, an I gotta save it for ????? Joey went today where I have dreamed of being for somewhere near a year. A year in this hole. But he sees, hears, speaks not. Tough 4 us both. Can’t enjoy sun or sights. Poor he.
June 4
The mirror. I was silly. The lack of food, I think. L is spoiling now, but I have a gut again and a strong jaw. But I save some back. Joey needs a treat like any animal performing a trick. And an animal he is, for his deformities worsen with each passing day, as if he grows unnaturally. I suspect that those who can contrive such a place as this can also get hold of sperm and tweak it however they want.
(later)
I used the compact mirror to view the other side of the door, see my cell my box my room my home. A handle protrudes from t’other side. I know what to do. Karma, methink. I know this for one reason - what? I am smarter, that’s what. Smarter.
June 5
Joey has been foodless for a day. He cries. His nose works just fine. Followed like some cat following the smell of chicken, although mummy smells far from as succulent. Across the floor, to the door, up, up the door until he stands, stands for the first time, reaching up. He jumped and I gave him the treat, mummy’s tit (now that’s what I call breast-feeding), Taut him well, good dad me. But I will let him eat tails too, methink, cos his teeth sharper n mine and he
June 6
Glue. Glue in trunk. No use for glue cept what I think of. More n more this seems a test. By glue vial, another, something foul and yellow. I sense poison. And at night, it all seems to come together. The OTHERS out there, THEY come close. Noises outside, against wall; I remember, TV, bears scratching their backs against trees and when I compare this to that, it scares me. Big THEY. I fear THEY needed by me soon, and dead, and I gotta do it with lasso or poison if tis poison, or mebbe just bare hands - dunno dunno.
Scared.
(later) June 7 morning methink -
Glue. Joey want meat. Glued meat to door, bout height of a doorhandle. Drips and smell, but he want it.
June 8
He reaches. Too high, it. It is almost good fun to watch. Watch like TV. But now I must do my part. Back soon, folks!!
(de dum de dum de dum)
I lifted him until his hands were grasping that meaty and then I held him there with one hand, held by the hair, ha ha, dangling but not hurt. Hands around the handle. I placed my other hand around his and turned them, turned as if to make him twist it off. Then move my hand and he twist alone, goodie, let him take the food away. Mummy’s tit. Now that’s what I call breast-feeding, ha ha.
June 9
The drill. Meat, lift, turn, treat. Meat, lift, turn, treat. Drill. Drill it in. Practice makes
June 10
The drill. It breathes now funny through nose. A way of communicating? Nasal problems? Vomiting is frequent, me n it. Bad food, bad air, bad life.
November 2
IV Flow Rates: Infants IV Flow Rates: Infants
Weight Weight Weight Weight First 60 minutes First 60 minutes Next 300 minutes Next 300 minutes
(lb) (lb) (kg) (kg) (ml/min) (ml/min) (ml/min) (ml/min)
2.2 1 0.50 0.23
4.4 2 1.00 0.47
8.8 4 2.00 0.93
(note: L skin for net to catch bigger/more turtle-spiders)
13.2 6 3.00 1.40
17.6 8 4.00 1.87
22.0 10 5.00 2.33
IV Flow Rates: All Others IV Flow Rates: All Others
Weight Weight Weight Weight First 30 minutes First 30 minutes Next 150 minutes Next 150 minutes
(lb) (lb) (kg) (kg) (ml/min) (ml/min) (ml/min) (ml/min)
22.0 10 10.00 4.67
44.1 20 20.00 9.34
(big OTHERS use to smash door in???) good plan)
88.2 40 40.00 18.68
132.3 60 60.00 28.02
176.4 80 80.00 37.36
220.5 100 (could try shouting for help) 100.00 46.70
242.5 110 110.00 51.37
there once was a man,
or was there two,
the funny thing was,
he they had only one shoe
November?
Taller. It reaches meaty handle with jump. I help. Mummy nearly away, just scrapings. I think of what would have happened had I not injected her daily with the lipids so kindly left for us. Memories of dad fattening up the biggest turkey prior to Christmas. Ha.
November?
Mummy’s left butt cheek, all that remains. Flat and big. Big-ass girl, ha. Feel tis good nutrition, cos mind alive! I toss scraps to Joey-thing under door, I slap its hands every time it reaches under the door, trying to come to me. 3 months now on other side, growing fast, too big to return. A throbbing beat in my head constantly, pure hope. But turtle-spider catch good and stomach full and brain working again. Itchy body, nanoevil in me, working me. Brain and body going on, on, on. I no daft, I surgeon, and I know no one would have survived on the amount of water n food I’ve been consuming. Onward my mission. I hate that lightbulb. It will die soon, methink
February? 1986
No Caesarean necessary 4 L, ahhh, so I should have realised my surgeon’s hands would be needed elsewhere. Ho ho. The morphine. The thick scissors. Wish I hadn’t blunted them in the door seams now. If my writing is a bit illegible after this, you’ll know why. My mind is clear and lucid, and I wish it wasn’t. The bastards could have at least left a bottla whiskey!
Here goes. Daddy’s turn to feed junior.
March 1
Gotta start counting days again, even if wrong. Jo tall now he walks beyond the door an I see his feet moving, hear them at night. I hear him jumping and reaching for handle, won’t turn it, can’t turn it? Stomach burns with emptiness, a vacuum, no feeding him now, cept enough to survive. Joey-thing’ll learn
from its mistakes. That’s how we live.
(i think there4 eye am)
Was saving mummy’s skin for emergency. Already used some as net for turtle-spider delikasies. Now it wraps my hands and feet, I need just the two to write. Just as a point of interest, toes taste better than fingers.
(
Recalling my anatomy skills. Hurts my brain. Muscles. Which are necessary and which are not. Big muscle, arse muscle, forget the name. Without it, a person can still stand. Quadriceps, biceps, triceps, forearm muscles. Cheeks, nose. Lots and lots. Choices, choices. Memory going, cept remember drip flow rates oh so well, cos oh so that keeps me alive, n Jo seems not to need it. ???
March 3
Aaaah!! Glutimus maximus, or sumthing like that. Biggest mussle, now in my stomach, heheheheh. Not win no arse-kicking contests now though
March 6
Handle handle handle, Turn the handle idiotthing
Joey-beastnastything cries, face distorted into an inhuman mask - ha ha which it is anyway ha haaa No food for two days, it hungry. handle wiggles. Wait and see. Oh, by the way, bulb dead. At night my world is black. But I think better. No bright light stabbing eyes though gotta write by gap in door durin day.
March 9
OTHERS roaming outside, THEY go no near beastnastything though. Like they know summat I don’t bout himIt. I have poison. But I yearn to drink it self n end this
March 20
Four feet. Four feet is the height of the handle from the ground. How quickly MY SON grew in just months. I don’t think he’s human. And he struggles now against his restraints, the skin of mummy that is tied around his neck. When I pulled
