The HUM: The complete novel

by Michael Christopher Carter

  Willing a smile back to her mouth, her granite gaze held at bay doubts which already threatened her traction on the treacherous ascent of her sanity. The cold steel of recognition of an old foe threatened to cleave her heart from her chest. Maybe it would be for the best. The further she climbed, the further she’d fall when the tenure snapped.

  Who would want to be a father to an alien baby? She loved the life inside her no matter what. But could she really expect someone else to? Was it even fair to build up his hope? What if it wasn’t born at all; snatched away by its alien creators? She’d be shackled to a man (albeit a nice, decent man) she didn’t love.

  “Drink that, dear. I think the excitement’s been a bit much for you.” The kind wrinkled hand of an elderly lady held a cup of tea close to her mouth. Sipping the hot nectar, its calming effects welcome, she took the cup in quivering fingers. “I’ll just put it down here for you, shall I?” she said, taking it from Carys as a spill seemed unavoidable. Carys nodded and turned away to disguise the moistness in her eyes.

  Clenching a fist, she forced away the shaking. For the sake of my baby, I’ll learn to love Marco. And if I can’t; and if my baby’s never born, I’ll deal with it then. Marco will get over it if things don’t work out. But for me and my child, it could be our only chance, she decided, vowing to seize the opportunity

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Facing the future

  December was almost upon them, and the small town of Narberth prepared for its Christmas celebrations. From the colourful lights (yet to be switched on) draped like bunting from one side of the street to the other, to banners announcing the upcoming Winter Carnival and ‘Civic Week’, it was clear that Christmas was a big deal in Narberth.

  It was a pleasing distraction for Carys with the twenty week scan date looming ever closer. This one, she was keeping close to her chest. She’d declined the invitation to perform on the carnival float of Narberth Christian Fellowship because of just feeling too heavy and hormonal to be a reliable help. But she supported from the side-lines with bacon sandwiches for her fiancé and the rest of the crew.

  Being appreciated in the bosom of her new church family made her feel popular for the first time in her life. And since Marco’s romantic proposal, she felt like a princess.

  Despite the date of her scan being etched into her brain, every morning she checked her diary and calculated the days to her appointment. She’d fumble at the pages and squint at the little squares on the calendar as though the simple addition was the most complicated of mathematical conundrum.

  Denial at her odd, manic ritual served to protect her from an admission that she was spiralling downwards. If Diane was aware, especially if she understood the reason for her daughter’s anxiety, she would have joined her, the pair tumbling to an abhorrent, emotionless abyss, like a tandem jump with no parachute.

  Her obsessive anxiety meant bus routes had been planned well in advance, and she was acutely aware of the anxious waiting she’d have to endure when the bus reached her destination an hour early. Falling on a college day had provided an unsuspicious reason to leave the house with the caveat she needed to go in a bit early for some advice.

  The float her friends were working on was a clever replica of the Town Hall church on wheels. Dan Paulo was going to be at the front leading the congregation in clapping and singing, whilst Marco and the band would play accompaniment and provide lead vocals as they did every Sunday.

  When Carnival night came, the float was praised for the religious theme, celebrating the true meaning of Christmas; conspicuous amongst the three Father Christmas’s (a Welsh Sion Corn version made it four.) Nativity scenes from local nursery schools kept with the religious sentiment, whilst bigger schools represented films currently at the cinema such as Harry Potter and Star Wars.

  Three of the pubs in the town chose Pirates as their theme. Two wore Pirates of the Caribbean garb, with Elizabeth and Cap’n Jack Sparrow in unconvincing costume, whilst the third depicted the richest pirate who ever lived, Pembrokeshire’s own ‘Barti Ddu’, ‘Black Bart’.

  After the parade, the crowd lining the streets to capacity good- naturedly made their way to the pubs and social clubs to continue the day’s heavy drinking. Others stood and watched the fireworks filling the air with their showers of fiery colour.

  For Carys, the fizzing pyrotechnics symbolised the final distraction before the event she’d been dreading claimed her full attention.

  The morning of the appointment arrived, and Carys showered and dressed in plenty of time for the bus, which was perfectly on schedule, despite the icy conditions of the cold December morning. Carys gazed out from the bus window at the Preseli mountains. She pondered how they appeared so similar to the view from her bedroom window despite the different aspect the A40 trunk road to Haverfordwest offered.

  With a satisfied nod, facts from tourist guide books she’d pored over months ago surfaced in her mind. The remarkable similarity was due to the two hills flanking the highest point of the range, Foel Cwmcerwyn, Preseli Top.

  On the North side stood Foel Feddau (bare hill of graves), whilst Foel Eryr (bare mount of eagles) rose to the south. And the two peaks matched one another’s triangular shape, and extended to exactly the same height.

  Stepping from the bus, the imposing building that was Withybush General Hospital, glared at her from its myriad of oblong eyes, daring her to turn and run. But, no. She was going nowhere. Today was the day she’d dreaded for weeks, but she had to know - was her baby’s development normal?

  After checking in at the reception desk of the Antenatal Clinic, she sat with other expectant mums waiting for their scans in the stuffy waiting area. Her nervous gaze rested on each of the mums in turn, scrutinising their bumps, wondering who dwelled inside each one, busily budding for birth.

  A prick of guilt at denying her mum this moment stung her eyes, settling on her abdomen above her own bump bringing with it a wave of nausea. Looking away to appease her guilt, she was the only one there without a mum or a partner with her.

  She couldn’t have had company though, could she? Unsure what she was about to encounter forced her isolation. But she missed the comforting hand of Diane, or Marco, or even her dad.

  A noise grabbed her attention as a sonographer or midwife or someone else in a nurse’s uniform opened a door off of the waiting room and called a woman’s name. In response, one of the girls, accompanied by her mother and husband got up excitedly from their seats and followed the nurse into the room she had come from.

  They disappeared for fifteen minutes before re-emerging with grins on their faces and clutching a folded card Carys assumed was the scan photograph.

  “We’re having a little boy!” the girl announced jubilantly to anyone who was interested. The father looked quietly chuffed, his name set to live on for another generation.

  The rest of the waiting room mustered fake smiles as their own babies took all of their real attention. Carys hadn’t given thought to what sex her baby might be. She dreaded being unable to contain her distress at being asked “Do you want to know what the baby is?” What sex, or what species?

  The same procedure played out a few more times before the moment she was dreading finally happened. The same nurse came out of the room and looked questioningly around.

  “Carys Ellis?”

  She got up, obviously by far the least excited of any of the girls waiting. She shuffled despondently into the room and followed the instructions to sit on the examining couch.

  “No-one with you?” the nurse asked unnecessarily. Carys shook her head as the nurse adjusted her clothes and applied gel to her bulbous belly.

  The lights dimmed as the nurse swung a monitor into both of their views. As the ultrasound paddle moved around her stomach, it made a sound similar to a vinyl record skipping until the whop whop whop sound of the foetal heartbeat was detected.

  “A good strong heartbeat. That’s what we like,” the nurse seemed delighted to impart. “H
opefully, baby will turn and give us a nice photograph. They cost three pounds if you want to keep it.” Carys nodded that she would as she tried to recall the coins in her purse and her bus journey home. She was sure she had enough.

  The nurse announced that she had a good shot, but didn’t explain where everything was. Carys hadn’t deciphered the image before it changed and the nurse began a different job looking at very specific parts of the foetus. Carys’s heart felt as though it would burst through her chest as her anxiety reached new levels.

  ‘Calm down,’ she instructed herself. The taking of measurements began and Carys felt as though she might faint.

  “Everything okay?” she rasped as she couldn’t help herself but ask. The sonographer remained silent but seemed undeterred.

  She moved the computer curser to a point on the unfathomable picture on the screen with a touchpad and a clicking noise followed. It was quickly followed by another brisk movement of the cursor on the screen and another click. The distance between the two points, Carys supposed, was a measurement that would indicate normal development… or not.

  Carys started to be able to decipher the image. She saw little legs, the head was obvious and then a hand moved briefly over the face. Carys started as the fingers on the little hand appeared inordinately long. She glanced at the sonographer for a reassuring sign, but she continued gazing with an alarming intensity.

  When the freaky hand moved, the face it had partially covered displayed the most enormous eyes. And the head that housed them was large and disproportionate to the body.

  Carys had seen pictures of scan pictures before in magazines and despite these alarming features the foetus looked largely normal, but the sonographers prolonged silence, so different to the twelve week scan she had received, that was alarming Carys the most.

  “Is something wrong?” Carys asked again. The hush was becoming unbearable.

  “I’m sure everything’s fine…” the nurse began, “but I’m just going to go and get a colleague. Okay?”

  Carys nodded as tears stung the backs of her eyes. She’d feared it for months, but the reality was still a shock. Praying fervently the colleague would make it all better, she lay alone, the blank screen of the monitor offering no comfort.

  The door flung open, making her jump, and two nurses, the sonographer from before and another woman, much larger in both build and stature, came striding into the room.

  The bigger woman took the seat where the smaller woman had previously taken the scan. The niceties of introductions were remembered suddenly and distractedly and the larger woman turned briefly to Carys and smiled unconvincingly.

  “Okay, dear?” she turned away again before receiving any answer. After performing the same procedure as the original sonographer, she turned off the machine, wiped the gel from Carys’s stomach and helped her sit round.

  As she sat, legs dangling off the couch, the larger lady, with supportive nods and ‘Hmmm hmmm’s’ from the other, explained the ultrasound findings.

  “You aren’t here with anybody, are you, dear?”

  Carys shook her head. Why? Why did she need to be here with someone?

  “I don’t want to worry you,” she persisted, “but I’m going to refer you to the consultant Obstetrician, Mr Overton. He’s ever so nice.”

  “Wha… what’s wrong?”

  “None of the anomalies we look for were detected… but we are a little concerned with the size of your baby’s head. It is unusually large. It may be that it will even out later on in the gestation, but you may have to bring your due date forward, and you might need to have a Caesarean section. Like I say, the consultant will tell you all about it.”

  The featureless ovoid heads of the alien creatures loomed in Carys’s mind. They’d take her baby away. As soon as they saw him (she said him, a sex hadn’t been established) she was certain: they’d take her baby away from her.

  The nurse placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

  “Is there any reason to think that Mr Ov...” she’d forgotten his name already.

  “Overton,” the nurse reminded. Carys nodded.

  “…will recommend termination?” she choked.

  The sonographer frowned, shaking her head. “I can’t predict what Mr Overton will say, but I very much doubt that will be his recommendation. It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

  The photograph was handed to her in exchange for her three pounds. Either kindness or disinterest (Carys suspected the former) elicited silence in response to the freakish appearance of the photo. It looked so unmistakably alien to Carys that it could have been a science fiction poster.

  Carys rode the bus home in stunned silence staring surreptitiously at her little picture, keeping it hidden from public view to avoid questions. She knew why the baby had a big head, of course she did. She’d known all along that the scan would turn out like this. And all the security she’d enjoyed since accepting Marco’s proposal felt jeopardised.

  She couldn’t show him, or anybody else; or tell him how worried she was. Tears that had threatened to breach the dewy surface of her eyes while she lay on the examination couch, flooded unremittingly from her eyes now.

  Face hidden, sobs subdued, she still attracted the attention of other travellers. Something in her manner, whilst attaining sympathetic looks, prevented anyone approaching her. Travelling from the hospital in her condition the answer was probably all too obvious, and what could they say?

  What if he doesn’t want to marry me once he sees the baby? She didn’t even love him, but she knew she wouldn’t find a better provider. The only attention she’d got before was from a rapist. It wouldn’t get any easier with a child, would it? If Marco rejected her, she’d be alone, she was certain.

  The wedding needed to be soon: before the baby was born and it was too late, and before she became too huge. She could say it had suddenly become the most important thing to her for the baby to not be born out of wedlock, even though biologically it made no sense.

  Anxious now to get back to Narberth and start things moving, the bus journey seemed terrifically slow. She didn’t have to wait long to speak to Marco though, because he was driving towards the bus stop as she climbed down from the bus. Spotting her immediately, he pulled up, rushing out gallantly to open the car door for her.

  “Hello, beautiful!” he said loudly. “Need a ride?”

  “Can we go somewhere?” she asked. “For a coffee or something? I really want to talk to you.”

  A worried frown creased his forehead. “Er… okay. Everything all right?” He looked understandably concerned as to what the urgent topic of conversation might be. Was she getting cold feet? But as they sat enjoying Latte’s in Lillie’s Coffee Shop, his anxiety turned to elation.

  Marco couldn’t quite believe his luck that the incredibly beautiful girl he’d seen in a photo just a few months before was going to be his wife soon. And for a Christian boy who’d saved himself for his wedding night, it couldn’t come soon enough!

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The influence of Discovery

  Christmas day, 2001

  The guests at the wedding of Marco Donatello Paulo to Carys Diane Ellis were the usual congregation, with the addition of course of Stella; delighted to be invited to spend Christmas with her favourite family; and seeing Carys so happy was the best present ever.

  The service followed a usual Christmas day service with the wedding tacked on. Getting married on what was Carys’s favourite day of the year anyway had been Marcos special surprise to his bride. Unsure to start with, expecting guests to be few, and her own quiet family day compromised. In the end she’d succumbed to the romance, and thrown herself wholeheartedly into it.

  Carys glowed like a royal bride in a dress from an intriguing boutique, White Bride, in Narberth’s exclusive little town centre. Marco looked incredibly handsome, as only a tall dark Italian can. Geraint proudly wore his police uniform, complete with domed helmet on his daughter’s insistence. And Diane w
ore a blue two-piece with a large hat, a proud smile, and a tear in her eye.

  It was the perfect wedding day with the perfect guests. Afterwards, many of the congregation transformed the hall into the perfect reception venue, with live music and food prepared by the best cooks in the town. It was all… perfect.

  They milled around the hall throughout the day, danced into the night and finally received their gift from the two parents, who had paid for two weeks to the island of Mauritius. The perfect honeymoon for the perfect married couple to begin their life together. The perfection wouldn’t last for long.

  The honeymoon was lovely, as it should have been. Fabulous weather, but not too hot for a pregnant bride. For Carys it was the last chance to relax before the countdown to an uncertain future raced to its conclusion.

  When they returned from paradise, they were to move into their marital home together, not share either of their parents’ houses. Marco had been encouraged from young adulthood to buy property and had already mortgaged a town house which he’d rented to a family whilst they found somewhere to buy. Their move out matched with Marco and Carys moving in.

  Marco was so excited planning the nursery (or he was making a good show of it to impress his new bride at any rate.) Carys struggled to match his fervour but came up with an appropriate neutral colour scheme. What colours did extra-terrestrials like anyway?

  Normality soon took over as Carys grew and grew. Marco worked every day and she continued waddling to college. On her free days, she spent time with her mum, who had given up trying to ignite excitement in her daughter for her upcoming big day (she’d been in hormonal hell herself in pregnancy, so didn’t push it.)