Then Comes the Child

by Christopher Fulbright

  Dennis thanked the doctor, who, clipboard in hand, left the room. He sat on the chair to wait for the nurse to arrive.

  The nurse arrived with an orderly and together they wheeled Alison through the hall and towards another room full of buzzing machines. Dennis followed closely behind as the nurse rattled off a few questions.

  “Is she taking any medications?”

  “Yes, she’s on Clomiphene as part of her fertility treatment.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not currently. Maybe a daily vitamin.” Dennis was finding it hard to keep up at the pace that the orderly and the nurse were walking; pain seared his body as his injuries were jarred by the fast steps.

  “Okay, thanks. We’re going to take her into this room for a sonogram. I’m sure you’ve been through these before if she’s been treated for infertility.”

  “Yes, lots of them.”

  “Good, then you know what to expect. The technician will be here shortly. I’m going to try to wake her for the procedure.” The nurse smiled, and turned her attention to Alison.

  “Alison?” the nurse asked. “Alison, can you wake up for us, honey?” The nurse took a damp cloth that another nurse handed her, and began to wipe Alison’s face and forehead with it.

  Alison stirred.

  “Alison? Do you know where you are?”

  Alison smacked her dry lips and looked around under fluttering eyelids. “Dennis?”

  “I’m right here, Ali.”

  She searched for him and held out a hand. Dennis took it and held it tightly.

  The nurse smiled. “Alison, you’re in the emergency room, and we’re going to do a sonogram to see if we can see anything out of the ordinary inside of you, okay? Dennis tells me that you’ve had sonograms before?”

  Alison nodded sluggishly. “My stomach hurts,” she said, and then moaned.

  “We’re going to do everything possible to discover why that is, but for now, we’re going to look inside and see what’s going on.” The nurse nodded to the technician who squeezed a glob of gel onto a paddle and folded up Alison’s pajama top. He pushed the paddle onto her flesh. Alison winced, and grabbed at the tech’s hand. “Ow!” she wailed.

  “I know it hurts, but we have to do this. We need you to help us, okay?” The nurse took Alison’s hand and held it tight. She looked over at Dennis and gave him a look that indicated that he should do the same thing. He swallowed and took her other hand.

  The technician proceeded cautiously. On the screen Dennis could see a pulsing black and white image, but as always he could never make heads or tails of anything. The technician smiled at him, and looking back at the monitor, suddenly frowned. He began to click and type. Click and type.

  “Is everything all right?” Dennis asked with mounting concern.

  “Mmm. Just a moment, Mr. Walker.” The tech continued moving the gel-coated paddle over Alison’s stomach and noting numerical points on the monitor.

  The nurse reached over and picked up a different sort of wand, pressing it against Alison’s mid-section. A loud, rushing heartbeat filled the room. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

  “What’s that?” Dennis asked.

  “That’s a baby’s heartbeat,” the nurse answered.

  “A baby’s heartbeat?”

  “Yes, your wife is apparently pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?” It was all Dennis could do to echo the nurse’s words.

  “Yes, and from the looks of the sonogram results, I’d say she’s about 16 weeks.”

  “16 weeks? That’s four months?”

  “Yes, she’s just entered her second trimester.”

  “But, that’s impossible.”

  The nurse laughed and smiled. “You’re looking at the baby on the screen, Mr. Walker.”

  Dennis felt his heart crashing inside. Four months? How could that be? It was impossible! The nurse just didn’t know the entire story.

  The technician made more concerned and grim facial expressions.

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Dennis asked the man in the blue scrubs who was quietly pressing the paddle around on Alison’s stomach.

  “I think it’s best for the doctor to come in here and talk with you.”

  “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong with my wife.”

  The nurse hit the intercom button. “Wanda? Could you send Dr. Holt in here, please?”

  Dennis paced the small room, wringing his hands in front of him. He kept glancing at Alison and towards the sonogram technician. Dr. Holt entered at a fast clip. He crossed the room and went to the sonogram machine and studied the monitor. “This can’t be right,” he said quietly. “Is this machine working properly?”

  “Yes, doctor. Nothing wrong with this machine,” the technician said.

  “Excuse me,” the doctor said and moved past the technician in order to peer closer at the monitor, pointing here and there with his pen, muttering to himself.

  Dennis shifted nervously near Alison’s bedside. She opened her bleary eyes and stirred. “Dennis? Is everything okay?”

  “It’s okay, honey. Dr. Holt is looking at the sonogram. Just rest, baby.”

  The doctor paused for a moment and looked at Dennis. “Is she taking anything, is she on something right now that would make her drowsy like this?”

  “No, sir. She’s been this way since the vomiting. I figured she just exhausted herself.”

  The doctor scowled and looked back at the sonogram. “Did you get a look at this sonogram, Mr. Walker?”

  “I can’t ever what’s what on those things.”

  “Well, I’m making out a condition we call Polyhydramnios. It’s an overabundance of amniotic fluid. But, what I’m most concerned about is the fetal development. There’s no way to say this in a manner that would be comforting.” The doctor paused and looked at the monitor again.

  “Go on,” Dennis prodded, needing to hear what was wrong, no matter how disturbing it might be.

  The doctor studied Alison for a moment. She continued to sleep. He sighed. “This fetus is severely deformed. The closest I’ve ever seen to anything even remotely resembling the formation of this fetus’ body are photos of specimens collected in the years following the Chernobyl nuclear disaster.”

  Dennis felt his heart skip a beat. “How so?”

  Dr. Holt used the end of his pen to point out things on the screen. “Here. Where we should see two legs, I can clearly define two legs and some sort of protruding tail-like formation. I’m guessing it is another leg trying to form, which indicates there is something wrong on a chromosomal level.”

  “What’s this?” Dennis pointed to something along the spine of the fetus.

  The doctor shook his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looks like a wing. See how it is folded up? It looks very similar to an unhatched chicken fetus. That’s really odd.”

  “You ever see something like this in your Chernobyl cases?”

  “No, never anything quite like this. I can’t even begin to know what you must be feeling right now, or how you’re going to tell your wife. I do want you to know we have professionals on staff that can help you if you need emotional support. You and your wife need to discuss your options.”

  “What do you mean by options?”

  “Whether or not you will terminate this pregnancy. It’s uncertain if a fetus with these types of deformities could live outside the womb for any period of time. And, even if the infant could survive, you and your wife have to decide if that is the quality of life you want your child to have. Years and years of potential surgeries would be in your future if the child did survive.”

  Dennis tried to speak but the words choked in his throat. Mutated. Deformities. This wasn’t their child. This was something evil. Something alien that had been forced upon them.

  He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this had to do with their...experiences. With that thing.

  “Oh, my god,” Dennis said and leaned back against the wall, pain jolting his
body. He held his head in one hand.

  The doctor looked sympathetic. “I know this is a lot to deal with.”

  Dennis shook his head. The doctor had no idea. No idea at all.

  19.

  The doctors left them alone for a while. Outside the hospital room window the sun had gone down and darkness pressed against the glass. Shadows gathered in the entryway of the room, and the only light was above the bed, putting Alison in the spotlight, and Dennis half-sleeping in the chair next to her. He nodded off for a few minutes and then awoke suddenly with a start.

  Silhouettes of doctors and patients passed by in the hallway.

  He looked at Alison. Her eyes were half open, and she was squinting. “For God’s sake, turn off that light.”

  Dennis found the switch and killed it, casting the room into darkness, except for the blue light from the television that talked silently to itself in the corner. “How do you feel?”

  “Not so great...but better.” She gave him a strained smile. Her hand rested on her slightly bulging stomach. “My God, honey, am I pregnant?” A glimmer of hope flashed in her eyes.

  He had an image of the deformed fetus in her womb.

  She saw the look that darkened his features, and realization settled over her. “What’s the matter?”

  Dennis took a deep breath. “You’re pregnant, but...the fetus is deformed.”

  Alison squinted at him as if he’d said something to offend her. “What do you mean deformed?”

  “Honey, it’s extremely deformed. The doctor said it would mean a life-long series of surgeries just for a child like that to survive.” God, he thought, don’t make me have to explain what it looks like.

  She shook her head no. “I don’t believe you,” she said, and put her hands on her stomach as if he might try to rip the child out of her and she was guarding against the attack.

  “Honey,” Dennis said. “The ultrasound was...really disturbing—“

  “Disturbing? Our baby?”

  Before he knew it Alison’s palm had smacked against his cheek and he stood very still for just a second, not really sure that she had hit him. She looked at him seething with anger.

  “Alison,” Dennis said firmly. His cheek was hot with the sting from her slap.

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing you say, Dennis. Do you realize you’re talking about our child? A child. In my womb.”

  “Not our child.”

  Alison was silent. The look on her face said that she had resolved not to hear anything bad about the baby.

  “I think,” Dennis said after a moment. “That you should see the sonogram results and talk to the doctor yourself.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to talk to the fucking doctor.”

  Dennis’s eyebrows rose. “You’re serious?”

  “I’m serious,” she said. “I’m dead serious. I want out of here and I want to go home.”

  He shook his head and his mouth hung open for a moment. He finally managed something that sounded reasonable. “Alison, you might get sick again. Remember the hotel room bathroom? I think you should wait for the doctor to come and give us some more information.”

  “Dennis,” Alison’s voice suddenly went down an octave, tight and a little bit menacing as she said, “I’m going home.” She began to climb from the bed and the sheets fell away from her body so he could see again the marks the attacking demon or whatever the hell it had been had left on her flesh.

  That’s a demon child inside of her. The rational part of his mind offered this suggestion and he didn’t even laugh at what would otherwise have been a ludicrous thought.

  Alison pulled her clothes out of the closet. Her stomach bulged even more than it had just an hour ago. As she reached out to grab her sweater off the hanger she convulsed and doubled forward as the size of her stomach expanded again—noticeably—and she was stuck in a half-bent contortion of pain.

  Dennis rushed forward to help her. “Nurse,” he called into the hallway. “Nurse!”

  20.

  Dr. Holt looked at both of them with a grave expression. Alison had been given medicine for pain and it was working gloriously. Her eyes were glazed and she looked between both of them with a detached sort of indifference.

  The doctor addressed them. “This fetus is growing very rapidly—it’s grown almost an inch since we last observed it.”

  Dennis looked at the doctor and then at his wife’s bulging stomach. He still couldn’t believe it. He blinked at the doctor. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that your wife is probably going to deliver this baby soon.”

  “What?”

  “I understand your disbelief...believe me, Mr. Walker. I’ve never seen anything like this in my eighteen years as a doctor.” He shook his head. “Mr. Walker, may I be frank with you?”

  Dennis nodded. “Please. Dennis.”

  “Dennis. Look, I’d personally recommend that we terminate this pregnancy now. At the rate the fetus is growing, there’s a possibility it could seriously damage your wife’s internal organs. This could get very dangerous.”

  “No!” Alison gave a narcotic-induced shout from the bed. “No, I don’t want that...not like that.” she gave a moan and then her head turned to the side on the pillow and she fell into a fevered sleep.

  Dr. Holt gave Dennis a sympathetic look. “I can’t make this decision for you.”

  Dennis looked at him. Their eyes met and Dennis saw the doctor for a moment as just another man with a family and friends and probably somebody in his family had died or been seriously ill, so he knew. He knew, and he was sorry.

  “Thank you,” Dennis said. “I need a few minutes.”

  “Of course. I’m going for a cup of coffee. Can I bring one back for you?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Dr. Holt stepped out and disappeared into the shadows of the room’s entryway.

  Alison stared at him from the bed. For all of the real consciousness he saw in her eyes, she might as well have been sleeping. The light was turned on again above the bed, but it had been dimmed. It reflected as red pinpoints of light in each of her eyes.

  “No, Dennis,” she said.

  “It’s going to injure you if it grows anymore.”

  “I want it,” she said.

  Dennis’s stomach turned. “There’s a chance the baby may still live if we do this.” The lie had slipped between his lips before he could take much stock of its necessity. He tried to backpedal; god, he didn’t want to lie to her, but the thought of that...baby coming home with them filled him with a special kind dread. “Either way, it has to be done. I won’t risk your life.”

  Alison was quiet for a minute and he thought she might have dozed off from the medication; then she said: “This might be our only chance.”

  “No,” Dennis said. “There will be other chances. It will happen. The right way. In God’s time.”

  “God’s time?” Alison’s head lolled on her pillow as she swiveled her neck to look at him.

  Dennis recalled his past life, his first marriage to Alexandra, and all the time he’d spent praying to God. He remembered praying until the last day that they were separated, and then he just stopped. Since then, it had occurred to him to pray on a handful of occasions. And this was one of them. He reached for Alison’s hand. “Everything will be okay,” he told her. And he silently followed up his promise with a prayer.

  21.

  By 3 a.m., the fetal growth had become so great that the doctors decided to induce her labor. She was far beyond any abortive measures. They started Alison on a Pictocin IV drip, and shortly thereafter her contractions started. Dennis stayed at Alison’s bedside.

  Dennis clinched her hand as another contraction came, this one longer and stronger than any of the others, and she writhed on the bed, groaning.

  Dennis watched transfixed as the doctor worked between his wife’s spread legs. Alison’s pain became more frequent and she squeezed
his hand tighter with more urgency. The scene blurred for Dennis as he chanted silently that everything would be okay. The doctor’s voice became a monotone drone, and the nurses’ responses were rote and hurried.

  Soon the doctor was instructing her to push, and Alison’s face contorted in pain. Veins protruded on her forehead, and her cheeks flushed red. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and one of the nurses had come to the other side of the bed to check on her vital signs.

  Alison let out a bloodcurdling scream at the last “push” which was followed by a sudden commotion.

  “Here it comes,” said Dr. Holt, his tone steady.

  Dennis caught himself holding his breath. He realized with a sting of guilt that he hoped it would die.

  “My god!” exclaimed a nurse.

  “Watch it!” said Dr. Holt. “Nurse, help me keep this pinned....”

  One of the nurses reached down to help, a look of horror evident in her eyes above the surgical mask.

  Alison’s cries of pain faded to slow moans, and before Dennis’ astounded eyes, he saw something that looked like the wing of a baby bat fly into the face of one of the nearby nurses. With a shout the nurse jumped backwards as something lashed out and cut her cheek, ripping off her mask. She cried out again and recoiled from what appeared to be thrashing wings.

  Two more nurses rushed to assist Dr. Holt. Something that looked like a gray fleshy snake rose up from between Alison’s thighs. Dennis was frozen in place. He tried to take a step back but couldn’t. He didn’t want to see what had just come out of his wife.

  The snake-like thing coiled up over Alison’s crotch as the second nurse cried out and jerked her hand away from the child. They managed to cut the umbilical cord and Dr. Holt wrapped the struggling bundle in a blanket, gently restraining it with both arms.

  When Dr. Holt stood; Dennis could see the baby’s face. It looked like a human newborn baby, but the shade of its skin was all wrong—it shone like the greasy skin of an eel, blue-gray and mottled. Also, there was something else—his eyes caught it as soon as the doctor gave Dennis an open look of horror: the child had a tail that hung out of the end of the bundle about six inches. It hung in the air and writhed like a snake—it was the thing’s tail that he’d seen!