A horde of people stood in a tight huddle on the street, each one stretching their neck to get a look at something. Then Suzey saw the police cars, the ambulance. All parked in front of Mrs. Hopps’s house. She hoped briefly that the woman was okay, but she just didn’t have time to worry about it.
The sound of rustling feathers. It came from her right, and her head snapped in its direction. She crept toward it, gun at the ready, and through the tall grass, there stood her enemy, stark white against the green of the pond water.
The stork stood on one leg, and as Suzey took a closer step, its neck uncurled and its head swiveled around to look at her.
From behind, she heard loud voices, baritone arguing.
The stork opened its wings.
Suzey fired.
White feathers blew into the air in a vast burst. The bird floated on the water, a red cloud forming beneath it.
Screams, shouts, angry voices behind her.
“Put the gun down, now!”
Suzey waded into the water, grabbed the stork by the neck and hauled it out. As she strode back to the edge of the pond, her prize dangling heavy from her left hand, the gun held tight in her right, she saw the police officers, realized they were yelling at her, every one of them with a gun pointed, faces full of hate and sweat.
“Put it down!”
“I have to save my baby,” she said. “I have to.” And then she was running. She didn’t remember taking off, but she could hear the pursuing footsteps behind her. Her house was just down the street, almost there. The stork’s body dragged along, trailing blood, water, and feathers.
At her front door now. Demands were screamed at her, and she spun around and fired at them without thought.
“I have to save my baby!”
She jumped into the house, slammed the door behind her, and locked it.
The vibrations from the slamming door rang through the air, and Suzey’s legs grew wobbly, her vision darkening. She tried to concentrate, tried to brace herself against the wall before she fell over, but she found herself on the floor before she even knew what happened.
Blood pooled around her knees, and it confused her.
The stork’s blood.
She tried to think about Eddie, her loving and understanding husband, the warmth of his embrace and the strength of his arms around her. Where is he? she thought. Where is my love?
Her fingernails raked across the hardwood as she crawled across the floor toward their bedroom.
A nap…I just need a nap…I’m so tired.
She thought about their baby, how happy they would be once he or she was born. They would be a family then, just the three of them. They could live happily ever after. It wouldn’t matter anymore that she had no soul, wouldn’t matter that she was evil. Eddie and their child could help her, could make things right.
But the darkness engulfing her grew stronger, and before she could make it to the bedroom door, it swallowed her whole.
***
The cab screeched around the turn, and the driver slammed on the brakes. Blue and red lights flashed all around, and the street was thick with police cruisers.
“Oh God…oh Jesus.” Eddie kicked the door open and began a slow walk toward his home.
“Hey, buddy. Where the hell you going?”
Eddie pulled out his wallet, flung all the cash he had into the passenger window, then weaved his way through the cars.
A congregation of police stood at the end of his driveway, along with an ambulance. Two medics loaded an officer onto a stretcher, the man’s uniform torn open and a bloody bandage strapped to his chest.
“Whoa, sir. This area is closed off.” A large officer with thick arms shoved Eddie backward.
“That’s…that’s my house. What’s h-happening?”
The man’s eyes widened. “You better come with me, sir.”
Eddie was led to the group of officers at his driveway, all cursing at one another and glancing at the house every few seconds. An older man in a white button-up and khakis glanced over at Eddie and the large officer as they approached.
“Sir, this man says he lives here.”
“Yes, that’s my house…my pregnant wife is…oh god, where is she? Where’s Suzey?”
The officers all exchanged looks, and from what Eddie could tell, the news wasn’t good.
“You say your wife’s pregnant?” the older officer said.
“Yes, that’s right. Where the fuck is she!”
Eddie peered at his home, saw the blood on the front patio, the smears of it on the door and handle. The bullet holes.
He fell to his knees, and bolts of pain shot through his legs as they hit the pavement. “Please…please tell me what’s going on.”
“Sir, your wife shot a police officer. She was seen at the pond there with the gun, then she killed what people are telling me was a stork.” The man ran his hand over his face, exchanged more looks with the others. “And I have reason to believe she may be involved in a murder.”
How could he know that? It had happened eleven years ago… It’s impossible…
“An old woman who lives just down the street, on the other side of the pond there, was found dead today, bullet to the head. I’m willing to bet the bullet we pull out of my officer’s chest will match it.”
Eddie again studied the blood on the door, the holes. “You didn’t…kill her, did you?”
“Shots were fired, but she made it into the house on her own and locked the door behind her. We’ve been trying to reason with her, but can’t get a response.”
Eddie wiped the tears from his face. “I’ll go in and talk to her, okay? Please. You all stay out here, let me talk to my wife.”
Words were exchanged as the men talked it over, but Eddie was in no mood to wait. He stormed toward the house, ignored the shouts behind him. His key slid into the door, the handle slick with blood, and he entered the home with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Suzey! Baby, where are you?”
A trail of blood was smeared across the floor, leading into the bedroom. And…feathers. White feathers everywhere.
He wanted to run into the room, but his legs wouldn’t let him. So he crept along, eyes glued to the bloody slug trail beneath him. Sitting on the floor amongst shards of broken glass, just outside of the bedroom was a box. Its flaps lay open, bloody smudges along the edges.
Eddie didn’t recognize it, knelt down and peered inside. A children’s book lay on top, a cartoon rendering of a stork in flight on the cover. He tossed that aside, crinkled his brow at what had lain beneath it.
Long metal rods, each one coated and rusted with dried blood. He picked one up, ran his finger along the shaft; almost the whole length was painted with blood, and he picked them all up, counted three total.
No…no, it’s not what you think.
“Suzey! Suzey, answer me!” He was standing again, easing the bedroom door open. A low moaning sound, almost a growl, and a repetitive thumping.
When he entered the bedroom, when his eyes fell onto the bed, he collapsed backward, shook his head, raked his nails down his cheeks. “Suzey…no, s-stop…what-what are you…oh god…”
His wife lay on her back, feet propped up on the edge of the bed so her knees were bent and pointing to the ceiling. Her legs were spread wide, her panties on the floor. She clutched the dead stork by the base of its neck, and with violent thrusts, shoved its beak and head into herself, deep as it could go.
Eddie forced himself back to his feet and approached the bed with hot tears rushing from his eyes. A leaking hole on Suzey’s chest spewed blood in bursts, soaking into the bed. More blood oozed from her birth canal as the stork’s head was shoved in again, the bird’s feathers soaking and dripping with red.
The gun lay on the bed just beside her, and with a shaking hand, Eddie picked it up. He lay next to his wife, next to his child. His family.
“I love you, baby. I’ll always love you.”
He reached down and fo
und her hand, intertwined his fingers with hers, squeezed tight. The gun’s barrel entered his mouth.
Suzey turned her head, smiled at him. “I love you too.” And her hand went limp in his, her eyes and mouth remaining open.
He whimpered once, and then pulled the trigger.
Shane McKenzie is the author of Infinity House, All You Can Eat, Bleed on Me, Jacked, Addicted to the Dead, Muerte Con Carne, Escape from Shit Town (co-authored with Sam W. Anderson and Erik Williams), Fat Off Sex and Violence, Fairy, The Bingo Hall, and many more to come. He is also the editor at Sinister Grin Press. He lives in Austin, TX with his wife and daughter.
He can see you.
shanemckenzie.org
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