Fook

by Brian Drinkwater

  “He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany smiled with a quiver in her voice as a tear broke free and ran down her cheek.

  Appearing in the nursery doorway, the nurse smiled at her audience as little Oliver began to squirm in his clear, plastic basinet as if anticipating his first meeting with his new parents.

  “Oh look,” Jennifer pointed excitedly as she tightened her hold on Bill’s arm.

  The maternity ward had been busy the last couple of days and Oliver’s basinet was at the center of a sea of newborns. Passing the first child, the nurse looked down with a big grin. It was clear that she loved her job; her favorite part being the times she had direct contact with the babies. Making her way to Oliver’s Basinet, she plucked the clipboard from the tiny bed, confirming that she had the right child, before returning it to the tiny hook and reaching for the now fully awake child.

  He didn’t need to see his wife’s face. The numbing sensation in his left arm told him everything he needed to know. The truth was, he was just as excited.

  Sliding her hands under Oliver, the nurse prepared to lifted the blanket wrapped baby from his bed, but hesitated as the lights in the nursery suddenly dimmed, then brightened, before dimming again with a slight flicker.

  “What was that?” Mrs. Brown commented on the strange power surge.

  As the lights returned to normal, the nurse shrugged to the crowd at the window before returning her focus to the task at hand. Reaching for the baby, she slid her hands under him before pausing once again, but this time in reaction to an odd sensation traveling up her arms. Pulling her hands out from beneath the blanketed infant once again she noticed the faint blonde hairs on her arms standing straight up as the sensation continued its migration toward her shoulders and across her neck to her head.

  “What the…?” Bill commented, eyes wide as the nurse’s shoulder length, bob haircut stood on end, and a static, crackling sound slowly began to build as the lights, once again started to flicker.

  Turning to the window, eyes wide with fear, the nurse started to take a step back toward the nursery door, just as a flash of bright light erupted over Oliver’s crib, followed by a loud electrical snap and a shock wave that sent the terrified nurse flying toward the large glass window. Striking the glass with her face, a small trail of blood marked the cracked glass as the stunned woman slid down the large window and collapsed to the floor.

  Shielding his eyes from the intense light, Bill looked up from the injured woman. The blast that had sent the nurse face first into the window had also pushed all of the other mobile basinets to the outer edges of the room, leaving Oliver’s basinet by itself at the center.

  “What’s going on!?” Jennifer yelled, as she, Mrs. Brown and Tiffany continued to look away from the bright electrical light show continuing from within the nursery.

  Wanting to answer, but silenced by his brain's inability to comprehend what he was witnessing, Bill continued to stare silently awestruck, as the bright light slowly faded while blue arcs of electricity continued their dance around the room.

  “Bill, what is it?” Jennifer looked up at her husband’s stunned expression while continuing to shield her face, before realizing that the light had dissipated.

  Still unable to answer, Bill continued to stare, mouth agape.

  Lowering her hand from her face, Jennifer turned in search of her own answers, though instantly wished she hadn’t as the only reaction she could muster was a blood curdling scream that instantly drew the attention of the other two onlookers.

  At the center of the room, still in the basinet, was the very child who only twelve hours earlier had entered the world, filling a long felt void in their lives, only now...he wasn’t alone. With him was a man, sitting on a metal chair, head back and screaming, though his cries were muffled by the loud electrical noise and wall between them.

  It wasn’t the man’s mysterious appearance from the bright light. It wasn’t even his cries of apparent pain or anger that were most disturbing. What baffled the horrified onlookers the most, was the man’s apparent cohesion with both the basinet and Oliver.

  Finally breaking free from his immobilizing shock, Bill ran toward the nurse's station, and the entrance to the nursery.

  The last bit of air erupting from his lungs in an gurgled scream, Jason lowered his head, momentarily pausing on the three, aghast onlookers before continuing down to the face of the screaming infant protruding from his chest. He didn’t need an explanation. He knew where he was, and he knew what had happened.

  The terrified newborn thrashed as much as his little body could, his head rolling back and forth while his arms bounced up and down on the mattress in front of Jason, while his tiny feet kicked against the other end of the firm surface to Jason’s back.

  With each violent shift, Jason could feel the infant pulling at his insides as their bodies were now one, their skin fused perfectly at the center of his chest and back. Not knowing if they were going to live or die, as the lightening storm continued around them, Jason slid his hands under the shoulders and head of the infant, the nurturing touch calming his younger self.

  A pound at the glass pulled his attention away from the child as a woman he’d never seen before began beating her fist against the transparent wall, screaming as tears poured down her face.

  “Hey!” Bill yelled as he appeared in the nursery doorway.

  Ignoring the threatening cry to his rear, Jason returned his focus to the life cradled in his hands, making eye contact with the infant as a wave of calm washed over them both.

  Closing their eyes, as if sharing the same thought, they vanished.

  ####

  Coming 2015

  Stranger than FOOK

  “Come on. You have to come up,” Justin begged, leaning over from the passenger seat for another denied kiss.

  “I told you, I’m not going up to your room because you’re drunk and all you want is sex right now,” Kristy laughed as she continued to dodge her boyfriend’s aggressive advances.

  “Nooo!” Justin protested, filling the car with the stench of Jack Daniel’s and beer as he slipped a hand between her thighs.

  “No! Bad boy,” Kristy playfully scolded her inebriated date as she grabbed his wandering hand and playfully slapped him across the face, drawing a brief look of shock, followed by a devious smile and ultimately another advance.

  “Ooh! You know I like it rough. We could do it right here. Come on.”

  “Justin,” Kristy whined, but did not shove him away this time as he began kissing her neck.

  “Right here in the car,” he mumbled between kisses.

  “Right here? In front of your dorm? What if someone sees us?”

  "Let them watch. You're so fucking hot. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

  "I wasn't worried about me."

  Pausing in his exploration of her neck, he was met by a broad grin. "Ha ha," he smiled before locking his lips to hers, stopping any further protests. She didn't fight the aggressive advance this time as she reclined the driver's seat, inviting him across the center console as their lips remained one. "This is actually going to happen," he thought to himself, shocked that his forward approach had actually worked.

  It wasn't like they hadn't done it yet. By relationship standards, theirs was still fairly new, having met only two months earlier at the beginning of the school year, but things had started off hot and heavy and had continued to progress rapidly. They'd done it in a back room at a party; in a locked, nightclub bathroom; they'd even done it in a stranger's motor home in a quiet residential neighborhood one night. This girl was definitely adventurous and he really didn't have any reason to complain, but with each daring act, the line was moved, which only begged him to move it further.

  Though she wasn't a prude by any means, she was hesitant about putting herself in any situation with a real likelihood of being caught or seen by another person. He didn't look at this hesitation as a turn off though. He looked at it
as a challenge. Though no stranger to landing attractive girls, he was particularly proud of Kristy, and something inside of him wanted nothing more than to show her off...in every way possible.

  "Wait," Kristy attempted to speak around Justin's lips as he continued his advance, having blindly unbuttoned her blouse like a pro but stumbling a bit with the intricate belt keeping him at bay. "Justin. Justin wait."

  "What?" he pulled back, taking the pause in action to look down at the damned contraption around her waist. "What's wrong?"

  "This isn't comfortable. Why don't we get in the backseat?" she flirted.

  He wasn't going to argue. He had been expecting her to put an end to this daring tryst at any moment, which is why he'd been hurrying through her clothing and probably why he was having so much trouble with the belt. If she wanted to get in the back seat, he wasn't going to argue. That meant that this thing was a done deal. The only problem he could foresee was figuring out where to move the line to next.

  Sliding back over the console, he started to recline the passenger seat, to make it easier to slide up and over, into the backseat.

  "No!" Kristy blurted as he placed his foot against the dash in preparation for the climb. "I don't want to damage the car. Let's just get out and go around."

  "If she wants me to go around, I'll go around," Justin silently complied as he lowered his foot, popped open the passenger door and jumped out, closing the door behind him as he reached for the backdoor's handle.

  Click.

  "It's locked," Justin complained as he repeatedly pulled on the handle before leaning over to look back in at the girl who was buttoning her blouse. "What are you doing? Open the door."

  Ignoring her boyfriend's pleas, Kristy continued buttoning her blouse, readjusting herself as she returned her seat to its upright position.

  Figuring that she couldn't hear him, Justin reached for the front passenger door again. It too was locked. Peering in the window again, his date was once again completely clothed and checking herself in the rearview mirror before turning to offer a “sorry" through the glass.

  "Sorry? Just open the door."

  "Good night, Justin. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  "This isn't funny," Justin complained as the car's engine started. "Where are you going?"

  Continuing to ignore the ongoing protests outside her car, Kristy put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, glad to see that Justin had chosen not to chase after her. Though she felt bad about giving him what was sure to be an excruciating case of blue balls, she did have her limits and there was no way in hell she was going to do it in the backseat of her car while parked in front of a busy boy's dorm.

  Bewildered by the sudden cold shoulder, Justin just stood at the curb, watching as his date's car rolled down the street. A brief flicker of the brake lights gave him hope that this was all just a cruel joke, intended to make him suffer for being so forward, but the hope was short lived as the red lights faded and Kristy's car disappeared around the building.

  With a lowered head and a mumbled "great," he turned and headed for the door.

  *****

  At just over fifty-thousand a year, not including room and board, one would think that a school, such as Cornell, would hire only the best contractors for building renovations. When Justin had visited the school last summer, he'd instantly fallen in love with not only the university's law school, but the town of Ithaca itself. The quaint northeast charm of the surprisingly busy little town had far more to offer than the dull, endless cornfields he had grown up with back in Nebraska. On top of that, the school had promised its incoming freshman that it would be undergoing a multimillion dollar facelift over the next year, prior to their arrival, with most of the money being spent on onsite housing. The once drab and outdated buildings were going to be turned into, "modern technological suites," was how the senior giving them the tour had put it. So far the only thing he'd seen was a fresh coat of paint in the lobby and free Wi-Fi throughout the building. It was hardly impressive. To make matters worse, the construction that was supposed to have been completed by the beginning of the school year, looked as though it had hardly even been started. There were holes in walls where pipes were being fixed. Only about half of the lights worked and if you were lucky enough to still have a functioning bathroom in your room, the odds of getting even lukewarm water were about fifty percent. Thankfully he and his roommate still had one such room.

  Arriving at his floor, Justin quickly hopped from the elevator. He'd considered foregoing the finicky contraption altogether after spending two hours trapped in it the week before, however given his current intoxicated state, getting stuck for a couple of hours sounded far better than taking a tumble down the dimly lit stairwell. Hardly anyone used the stairs. He could lay there for days before the elevator broke again, giving someone a reason to stumble upon his broken body.

  Safely on his floor, his thoughts returned to the bathroom inside his "suite" as he turned and proceeded down the hall, running his hand along the wall to keep the wobbly building from knocking him to the floor. With Kristy gone, the unfriendly combination of Jack Daniel's and Keystone Light had quickly taken the opportunity to make their presence felt as the two unlikely companions pushed at the lining of his bladder, searching for any means of escape. Though he would have preferred the more erotic sensation of evacuating his loins, given the urgency with which his two alcoholic companions were pleading for freedom, something told him that this was going to be the best piss he'd ever taken.

  Not even noticing the lacy black underwear hanging from the doorknob, Justin twisted the handle and was denied access by a soft click as the knob shifted only slightly in his hand before coming to a sudden stop.

  "What the hell?" Justin glanced up at the chipped numbers on the door, confirming that he was at the right room.

  309

  Confident that he was at the right place and recalling his roommate telling him earlier that he'd be home studying all night, Justin tried the door again, not entirely sure why he expected a different outcome or why he was surprised when he was again denied entry.

  "God damn it," he fumbled in his pocket for his keys, pulling them out and holding them only inches from his face as he attempted to pick the right one from the ring of blurry metal.

  Somewhat confident that he'd picked the right one, he began lining the key up with the center of the knob, since the keyhole was all but invisible at that point. As the key searched every surface of the round brass handle, he finally noticed the feminine object hanging right in front of him.

  Lowering the key, he grabbed the underwear, lifting them into the air to examine them before giving them a quick sniff and returning them to the doorknob. He knew what they represented. Even though he was a freshman, the random object hanging from the doorknob was a universally understood symbol in college. Most people used socks, or even a hair tie. He liked to slip an unused rubber around the knob, but not before spitting in it to get the full effect. He couldn't think of a better way to ensure privacy. "His roommate, obviously didn't care as much about privacy," he thought as he placed his ear to the door, while once again trying to silently slip the key into the lock.

  Annoyed by their continued imprisonment, Jack and Keystone suddenly banded together to issue one final assault, sending a wave of pain across his lower abdomen and causing him to forego the excitement of busting in on his roommate nailing some random slut. Instead, fighting through the pain, he traded the keys for his fist and began banging on the door.

  "Dude, I gotta piss! Open the door!"

  "Fuck off! I'm busy!"

  "I gotta go and I'm drunk as shit! I can't get my key in!"

  "Well I've got mine in just fine, so go away!"

  "Just open the door!" Justin continued to plea as another assault caused him to start dancing.

  "Use the one down the hall!" his roommate shouted, obviously not willing to be interrupted during his conquest.

  "Asshole," Justin mumbled as he t
urned and quickly began staggering toward the common bathroom at the other end of the hall. He would have continued to argue with the selfish prick, but given the urgency of the situation, the fight seemed futile and the eventual outcome devastatingly embarrassing.

  Again running his hand along the wall as he quickly shuffled toward the disgusting room at the end of the hall, he imagined what he was about to walk into. As more and more private bathrooms went down on the floor, more and more people were using the tiny public lavatory, and not just any people, college guys. The place was disgusting. Unless you were a trained deep sea diver and capable of holding your breath for extended periods of time, you were almost guaranteed to ingest at least some of the fecal cloud always lingering in the poorly up-kept room. However, with comfort the priority, Justin didn't even bother to take a deep breath before bursting through the door and making a b-line for the first of three urinals to his left.

  Fighting with his zipper as it momentarily caught on a stray thread, he contemplated just dropping his pants all together but thankfully didn't have to as the thread snapped and the satisfaction of freedom was quickly replaced by the ecstasy of relief. With every muscle in his body relaxed, Justin leaned forward, placing both hands against the cool tile wall as Jack and Keystone once again parted ways.

  "Where is he?” a faint whisper attempted to compete with the sound of urine against porcelain.

  Unaware of the voice, Justin instead opened his eyes to the realization of what he was touching. Quickly yanking his hands away from the wall, he was surprised to see that the white tile surface was amazingly clean. Even head high it wasn't uncommon to see the glossy wall mottled with tiny yellow blotches. Pushing the final few ounces of fluid from his bladder, he looked down at his urinal, as well as the two to his right. They too were remarkably clean.

  "About fucking time," he mumbled as the stalls to his back came to mind. Urinals were one thing. The disgusting shit closets were a whole different story. Pivoting to his right, shaking the last few drops free as he peered over his shoulder at the open stalls, he was again amazed at the level of cleanliness around him. That coupled with the faint scent of vanilla from what appeared to be a newly installed automatic mister overhead actually made the heavily used room somewhat tolerable.