Nemesis

by Shaun Hutson

  Hacket turned slowly.

  ‘I don’t want to argue, Sue. Especially when we’ve nothing to argue about. I just want you to hear what I’ve got to say.’

  She exhaled deeply.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The treatment which Curtis perfected, from what he told us, it sounds like some kind of growth drug. He said the foetus would develop at an increased rate. I think I know what he’s doing. What he’s using.’

  Sue looked on impassively.

  ‘The drug must contain some traces of pituitary secretion in order to cause that acceleration.’

  ‘So what if it does?’ she said, flatly.

  ‘The baby could be affected by it. If the dose was wrong it could be too small, perhaps even deformed.’

  ‘And your friend told you this, did she?’ said Sue, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  ‘I mentioned it to her, she gave me her opinion,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t care, John. I knew the risks, we both did. Do you honestly think that a man of Curtis’ expertise is going to give me the wrong dose? He said himself he’d treated other women. He’s not some mad scientist from a bloody horror film, he’s a trained doctor and I don’t care what your friend says. I’d trust Curtis with my life. Mine and our baby’s.’

  ‘Just try to see my point of view,’ he asked. ‘I love you. You’re all I have since Lisa died. I don’t want to lose you too.’

  Sue got to her feet and headed for the hallway.

  ‘If you don’t want to lose me, then don’t stand in my way,’ she said. ‘Let me have this baby.’

  He heard her footsteps as she climbed the stairs.

  Hacket waited another moment then poured himself some more whisky, downing the contents of the tumbler in one gulp.

  He suddenly felt very alone.

  Seventy-one

  Ronald Mills pulled the .38 from beneath the pillow and flipped out the cylinder, turning it slowly. Then he snapped it back into position and pushed the gun back out of sight.

  Whenever he left the hotel he would take the gun with him, stuffed into the pocket of his jacket. The knife he would slide into his belt but now, he didn’t intend leaving The Bull for the rest of the evening so he left the weapons beneath the pillow:

  He crossed to the window which looked out onto the main street of Hinkston and peered down at the dozen or so people passing by. It was late, almost 10.30 p.m, the cinema down the street had emptied out about fifteen minutes earlier and the disco didn’t open during the week, so the street was quiet.

  Mills glanced across at the phone beside his bed.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door and he opened it.

  Paula Kirkham stood before him holding a tray.

  She smiled broadly, shaking her head gently, allowing her long hair to cascade over her shoulders. She wore no bra beneath her T-shirt and Mills noticed that her nipples were straining against the material.

  He stepped back to let her into the room, watching as she set the tray of food down on the bedside table.

  ‘Will there be anything else?’ she asked, smiling.

  ‘No,’ said Mills, holding the door open, as if to emphasise the fact that he wanted her out.

  She looked most put out and wiggled past him, glancing briefly at him. He closed the door and she heard him lock it.

  Paula hesitated outside the door, ear pressed close to it.

  The man didn’t seem attracted to her.

  He’d been a guest at the hotel for the last five days, keeping himself to himself, ignoring the other guests and her own advances. She didn’t think too much of him. Ugly bastard really.

  But, he was single.

  Alone.

  He was a perfect choice.

  Just like the man before him.

  She struggled to remember his name.

  Jennings, that was it. She smiled as she remembered.

  The ones before Jennings she could not recall.

  There had been too many.

  She stood for a moment longer outside the door then slowly made her way along the corridor to her own room.

  Mills heard her footsteps as she wandered away, only then did he turn his attention to the plate of food which she’d brought him. He nibbled at one of the sandwiches, his eyes flicking back and forth towards the phone every now and then. Finally, he pushed the remains of the sandwich into his mouth and reached for the receiver.

  Pulling the number from the pocket of his jacket he dialled.

  And waited.

  ‘Come on you fucker,’ he murmured, listening to the purring at the other end.

  The phone was finally picked up.

  It was a woman’s voice on the other end.

  Mills sat listening to her, his breathing subdued, the smile spreading across his face.

  ‘Who is this?’ she asked.

  He put the phone down.

  Another five minutes and he called again.

  This time he recognised Hacket’s voice.

  ‘Who’s there?’ the teacher snapped.

  Mills sat on the edge of the bed, the phone held slightly away from his ear.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ Hacket rasped.

  Mills put down the phone.

  He chuckled, the grin slowly fading.

  The game was nearly over.

  Hacket’s time had come.

  Mills held the knife up before him.

  And then there was the woman.

  Paula Kirkham stood naked outside the door, her breathing low and rapid, like an animal in the heat.

  She glared at the door as if trying to see through it to the man beyond.

  To Ronald Mills.

  She pressed herself close to the cold wood, feeling her nipples stiffen as she rubbed herself gently against the smooth paintwork, feeling the moistness between her legs.

  Her mouth hung open, streamers of sputum dripping from it as she salivated madly.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled.

  Seventy-two

  She heard movement on the landing.

  Julie Clayton sat up, her ears alert for the slightest sound.

  Footsteps on the carpet.

  She swung herself out of bed, jabbing her husband as she did so.

  Mike rolled onto his back and groaned, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ he croaked, seeing Julie pull on her dressing gown. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost 3.36 a.m. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Mike, hurry,’ she said, moving towards the bedroom door.

  The expression on her face told him how frightened she was. He hauled himself out of bed, following her out onto the landing.

  She was approaching Craig’s room, aware of the sounds coming from within.

  ‘Oh God,’ murmured Mike. ‘Not again.’

  Stuart Lewis stood over the baby, looking down, his eyes fixed to the blazing stare which seemed to pin him as surely as light draws a moth. He could not look away from his son.

  The baby was gurgling loudly, rocking itself back and forth in its cot frenziedly, grasping at the sides with its tiny fingers.

  Michelle joined him, reaching for the baby but Stuart put out an arm to hold her back.

  ‘He needs me, Stuart,’ she protested but her husband merely remained where he was, looking down at his child, watching as the boy suddenly stopped thrashing about and lay still, gazing up at his parents. His eyes flicking back and forth from one to the other.

  Lewis shook his head slowly.

  ‘It’s not us he needs,’ he said, quietly.

  And she understood.

  Elaine Craven picked up the phone immediately after it rang. Despite the fact that it was so early in the morning she knew who it would be, and she was not wrong.

  The voice at the other end belonged to Patricia Stokes.

  It was her daughter, Emma, she said.

  Elaine said she understood.

  Patricia wasn’t sure what to do.

  Elaine tried to reassure her,
touching her own bandaged arm as she spoke.

  Upstairs she could hear the shouts and snarls.

  She spoke calmly and slowly to Patricia who seemed to relax a little, the longer the conversation went on. Finally, she said goodbye and returned to her own problem.

  To her Emma.

  Elaine waited by the phone a moment longer then she took a deep breath and made her way back up the stairs.

  It had happened so quickly this time.

  The shouting continued.

  As she reached the landing she had to steady herself against the bannister, noticing that her hands were shaking.

  She thought she had become used to it by now, but, somehow, the fear still remained.

  Seventy-three

  She hadn’t mentioned the pain to Hacket.

  Hadn’t thought it worth talking about the silent twinges which she felt around her vagina, especially during their lovemaking.

  But now, as Sue Hacket reached for the can on the shelf before her, she sucked in a deep breath, reacting as if she had been punched. The pain was sudden and severe. She gripped the shopping trolley for a second, waiting for the discomfort to subside, which, thankfully, it did. A woman passed and glanced at her, noticing the look on Sue’s face and, for a moment, Sue thought the woman was going to stop, but she merely smiled and carried on with her own shopping.

  Sue dropped the can into her trolley and walked on, parading up and down each aisle, filling the trolley, trying to ignore the stabs of pain telling herself that they were lessening.

  Curtis had said nothing about side-effects. Nothing about pain. If she still felt as bad when she reached home she would call him. Visit him if necessary.

  However, as she reached the check-out the pains did indeed seem to be diminishing in severity. Sue ran a hand across her belly almost unconsciously as the woman ahead of her packed her groceries into a succession of carrier bags. Sue shuffled uncomfortably as she waited her turn, brushing a speck of dirt from the leg of her jeans.

  She waited for the pain to return.

  It didn’t.

  She began unloading her shopping onto the conveyor belt.

  If she’d mentioned the pains to Hacket he would have panicked, she thought to herself. He would have started complaining about the treatment again. Why couldn’t he just be happy in the knowledge that they were to have another child? Why all the questions and doubts?

  She packed the groceries away then paid the cashier, using the trolley to transport the goods out to the car.

  As she unlocked the back of the car the pain struck her once more.

  A deep burning sensation between her legs and she gripped the trolley for a second until it subsided.

  Sue put the groceries in the back of the car then turned to return the trolley.

  The man seemed to loom from thin air.

  He was carrying an armful of shopping which promptly fell from his grip as he collided with Sue.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dropping to her knees to help him gather up the spilled groceries.

  Her own handbag had also fallen in the collision and she scrabbled to retrieve its spilled contents.

  ‘It was my fault,’ said the man, shoving tins back into the shopping bag. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

  The combination of food and the contents of her handbag had rolled for several feet around the car, some beneath it, and it took about five minutes to pick up everything. Everything except a couple of squashed peaches which had fallen from the man’s bag. He looked down at them and shrugged.

  ‘I was eating too much fruit anyway,’ he said, wistfully.

  Sue smiled, the expression twisting slightly as she felt more pain.

  ‘Are you OK?’ the man asked, seeing her wince.

  She nodded.

  ‘Thank you, yes. I’ll be fine.’ She managed another smile. ‘Sorry again about…’ she motioned to his squashed fruit.

  ‘No problem,’ he told her, smiling as she climbed into the Metro and started the engine.

  He was still smiling as she drove off.

  He watched her turn a corner and disappear and, as she did he slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the prize he’d taken from her handbag in all the confusion.

  The purse looked small in his large fist.

  Ronald Mills wondered how long it would be before she realised it was gone.

  Seventy-four

  It was happening too fast.

  It was as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button on life, and now events were moving at break-neck speed, faster than he could comprehend.

  The ambulance, its siren blaring loudly, took the corner so fast it almost overturned.

  Hacket gripped one edge of the stretcher to steady himself, with the other hand he held onto Sue’s outstretched fingers. Her face was milk white, a thin sheen of perspiration covering her. She had her eyes closed tightly, her forehead wrinkling as each fresh spasm of pain racked her body.

  ‘Isn’t there anything you can give her?’ Hacket asked the ambulanceman who rode in the back of the vehicle with them. But the uniformed man merely shook his head and looked on impassively.

  ‘We’re almost at the hospital,’ he said, flatly, glancing at his watch.

  Sue gripped Hacket’s hand more tightly and he felt helpless to comfort her. All he could do was to wipe the sweat from her face with his handkerchief.

  ‘It won’t be long now,’ he murmured. ‘Hold on.’

  Jesus, he felt so fucking useless. There was nothing he could do to ease her suffering. Nothing to stop the pain.

  So much pain.

  Her body stiffened then relaxed, as if someone were jabbing her with a cattle prod. The spasms became more frequent, more severe until finally she shouted aloud from the pain which raged inside her swollen belly.

  Hacket pulled the sheet down and looked at her stomach. It was bloated and, as he watched, he could see the skin gently undulating.

  ‘How much further?’ he rasped, glaring at the ambulanceman.

  ‘Not far,’ the man said, also glancing at Sue.

  ‘John.’ Her voice rose in volume, dissolving into a scream of pain.

  Hacket saw the first droplets of blood dribble from between her legs and she stiffened, her body jerking every few seconds.

  She began to breathe rapidly and loudly, holding Hacket’s hand so tightly it seemed she would break his fingers.

  ‘It’s starting,’ she gasped, raising her legs and opening them.

  ‘Help her,’ Hacket snarled at the uniformed man, his face pale as he saw a steady flow of crimson beginning to pump from Sue’s distended vagina. The outer lips seemed to swell and open like a blossoming flower and the sheet beneath her was stained by her life fluid as the contractions became more savage.

  The ambulanceman struggled towards the far end of the vehicle, almost overbalancing as it took another corner doing over fifty. He retrieved some oxygen and stuck the plastic mask over Sue’s face, but she merely pushed it away, beyond help now, knowing that there was no turning back.

  A searing pain filled her lower body and she felt an incredible pressure building between her legs.

  Hacket held her hand, his eyes riveted to her swollen vagina.

  A moment later he saw something white appear between the folds of flesh. Something white and bulbous.

  The baby’s head.

  Pieces of placenta were draped over the skull like bleeding streamers, some of which dangled from Sue’s vagina as the child fought to free itself.

  The head burst free.

  Hacket sucked in a deep breath, watching as the torso began to emerge.

  ‘Nearly finished,’ he said. gripping Sue’s hand even more tightly. ‘Nearly…’

  The words trailed away and he felt the bile rising in his throat, felt his eyes throbbing in their sockets.

  The child had a large hump on its back, just below the nape of its neck.

  A hump large enough…

  Hacket shook
his head in horrified disbelief as he saw the child emerge.

  Sue was still contracting her muscles, as if anxious to expel the child from her body.

  The ambulanceman looked on, his face also pale, his eyes wide.

  The hump on the child’s back wasn’t skin and muscle.

  It was bone.

  Thick bone.

  A second head.

  The eyes had formed, but where the mouth should have been, was a gash. No lips, just a rent across the lower face. But the eyes were open, blinking away the blood and fragments of placenta which coated it.

  And, in that brief instant before he finally surrendered to his revulsion and vomited, Hacket noticed that the obscene hole which passed for a mouth was curling up at either side.

  The eyes fixed him in a blazing stare.

  The second head was smiling at him.

  He sat bolt upright in bed, his breath coming in gasps, his heart thudding madly against his ribs.

  He turned to look at Sue, surprised to find her sitting up looking at him.

  She was smiling.

  Seventy-five

  Hacket wiped a hand across his face and sighed, the last vestiges of the nightmare gradually slipping away.

  ‘Jesus,’ he murmured. ‘I had a bad dream. About you and the baby.’

  She held his gaze for a moment then slowly leant across and kissed him, her tongue flicking against the hard edges of his tongue before sliding into the warm moistness beyond. Hacket responded, feeling her arms glide around his shoulders. He lay down beside her, raising one knee so that his thigh was rubbing against her vagina. She was already wet and he felt her moisture dampen his leg as he ground it against her, his own movements matched by her slow rhythmic thrusting. She moaned in his arms as he allowed one hand to find her right breast, teasing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then kissing the swollen bud for a moment before transferring his attention to her left breast.

  Sue reached down and cupped his testicles, rubbing gently, grazing the base of his shaft with the nail of her index finger.