Christopher Ransom: The Birthing House

A yard of cord came down stretched taut. There the hands were bound by the same black rope. The arms, stretched until the shoulders had dislocated, were bruised all the way down and into the milk-white skin of her naked torso. Can't see shouldn't see don't want to see the face cover your eyes don't let her see you with the black eyes. Her breasts were full, engorged. Not black eyes. Black around her head. She was blindfolded, and later, when he had time to process such things, he would realize that had been an act of mercy.

Nadia's belly bulged, and the gash ran from under her breastplate to the pubis. Her intestines were strewn about, leaving what he could only assume to be her womb, ovaries and the rest of her organs spread between her knees, the tops of which touched the blood-soaked floor. Her legs were tucked behind her, the feet like the hands, bound and swollen purple.

He was walking in it. He saw his red sandals merge with the blood congealed and so thick the skin broke like the top of a Jell-O mold. To one side lay one of the stainless-steel gaffs for handling the serpents. It was caked with blood and more of her grue.

Our Eden.

Nadia's mouth hung open, her teeth exposed. His mind shortcircuited and he knew that he needed to stop the screaming but he could not move. It wasn't only that she was here and cut this way. A deeper part of him was not surprised to find her here at all. It was more the problem of how could it be , her insides all torn out like that, strung in this tableau pose, when she had seemed so alive just a short while ago and now he could still hear her screaming, screaming for the baby that had been so callously removed before its due date.

37

As her screams wound down and became whimpers and then one long chain of suffering breaths, he used the garden shears to cut the rope. The body slumped cruelly on to its face. He used the dirty plastic tarp to cover her naked back and buttocks. He knew that she deserved better, but there wasn't time for any of that now. Whatever fate had befallen Nadia Grum was irreversible.

His wife was here. Alive.

Jo was on her feet, swaying. Her face was wet with tears and mucus. Her eyes were wide from shock and red, her skin gaunt. Her entire body was under siege, the cords in her neck like cables on a suspension bridge as the earth quaked and threatened to tear her asunder. Her teeth were literally clacking. He understood the next few minutes - maybe seconds - would determine the rest of their lives and possibly end one or both of them.

He took a step toward her with his palms up, and she jerked back, slamming into the metal garage door with a nerve-jangling clatter. He stopped, but left his hands up high. He did not realize he was crying until he spoke.

'Jo, I did not do this. Please, don't run away. I swear to you, on the lives of our dogs, on my mother's soul. I did not hurt this girl. This is the first time I have seen her since she was alive in our house two days ago. I am begging you to believe me one last time. I did not hurt this girl. I did not do this.'

He was not sure she could even hear him. The way her eyes were roving around, he suspected she might be hearing him but not seeing him.

'Joanna? Joanna Harrison. Joanna Keene,' he said, using her maiden name. 'I did not do this. A monster did this. I'm not a monster.'

But did he know that for sure? The past weeks were a blur of nightmares and strange changes. Someone had brought the knife into the bedroom. Nadia had been talking in another woman's voice. Alma's voice. But she couldn't have done this to herself - this required brute strength. Was it possible Alma had taken him over, moved him to act upon her cruel justice?

No, he would not accept that. He stepped forward, reaching for her.

'Stay away from me. You stay away!'

He kept his hands at his sides. She began to shuffle sideways but could not bring herself to abandon the hard surface of the metal door against her back. She moved on shaking legs, inching across the garage, her eyes hot and accusing.

'I won't hurt you. Please don't go. I won't ever make you do anything again, but please listen to me before you run away.'

She had reached the end of the wall and found herself in another corner. Rushing past him on either side would require passing within arm's reach. It appeared to be a risk she was not ready to take.

'Someone else was here. The mirrors. She came in and broke them like she didn't want to be seen. She left a knife outside the bedroom door, Jo. She wanted Nadia to run away. She said it was her turn to be a mother. Alma! She said her name was Alma. I've seen her. She keeps coming back for the babies. I don't understand what's happening here, but you have to believe me, Jo. I didn't do this. I didn't do this!'

Her eyes locked on him. 'K-K-killed her. You killed her. You're s-s-sick, a sick man. Don't move or I will tell on you. I will tell them what you did.'

She snatched a scrap of fence lumber from the floor. A plank of treated green pine perhaps three feet long and sharp at one end.

His legs buckled and he sat down hard on the floor. Show no aggression, only compliance. It's your only chance.

'See? I'm not. I won't do anything.'

She lunged from the corner and stabbed the wood at him as she ran by him, up the steps, out the door.

She's going, she ran away, she's going now, she's gone gone gone forever now - forever -

- unless you stop her.

No. Let her go. It didn't work.

And you're going to be in Hell eternal unless you make it work.

He was out of plans, but he went after her just the same.

38

When he stepped into the backyard the sky had turned from blue to a darkening gray slate. He walked until he could no longer stand his thoughts - what is she doing, who is she calling, where will she go - and then broke into a run.

He had crossed the deck and hooked around the back porch, halting when he saw movement down low. For an insane second, and they were all insane now, he thought the house was swallowing her alive. Her feet were kicking and shoving against the porch boards as her body was pulled through the dog door.

Then he understood that she had no other way in but to crawl through. He could hear the dogs barking inside, but it was a hollow sound, buried behind the walls.

He ran forward as her bare feet disappeared and the little plastic flap's magnet snicked into place. He tried the knob and indeed it was locked.

The gate. Why hadn't she used the gate to let herself out so she could run to the car, drive to the nearest police station or hospital? Was she going for the dogs, or a weapon?

He yanked the bolt on the gate and the wood screeched as it swung inward. He ran past the garbage cans around the side of the house. He slowed in case the neighbors had one eye out the window. He was relieved to find no one in the front yard, no patrol cars arriving with strobing lights to take him way.

The insulation. You insulated the garage to keep the snakes warm. No wonder everything was normal on the block; they couldn't hear her scream. Yes, and you couldn't hear Nadia screaming either, could you? How convenient. You were the one who ordered the garage insulated, just before you lured the girl next door into your twisted fantasy.

Stop it! Stop that shit right now!

He came through the front door. The dogs were barking from the basement. Jo was bent over the kitchen sink, retching herself empty. Again. He closed the door behind him and she turned around, snatching the same long serrated knife from the counter. The note that said 'other mother must go' was gone. Her face was pale, her mouth dripping water and a yellow trail of bile. Some of it stuck in clumps in her once beautiful hair.