Stork Read online

  Stork

  by Shane McKenzie

  “Stork” © 2012 Shane McKenzie

  Cover Art © 2012 Vincent Chong

  All characters depicted in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without the publisher’s written consent, except for the purposes of review.

  Shane’s Baby

  An intro by Wrath James White

  Everyone knows that storks bring babies to deserving parents. No messy bursting of water bags, no cervical dilation, no agonizing labor pains, no epidurals or episiotomies, no blood, no accidental bowel movements, no gooey afterbirth to be made into omelets and eaten by the mother to add nutrients to her milk. They are conceived with kisses rather than the grunts and groans and screams of the two-backed beast. No smacking of asses or banging of headboards. No “Who’s your Daddy?” The stork brings the babies and that’s the end of the story… or is it?

  In Shane’s tale, the stork also takes babies away from undeserving mothers and sometimes it delivers babies with no souls. According to grandma, the stork doesn’t bring happy, loving babies to evil whores. To them, it brings soulless demons. As an advocate of both evil whores and soulless demons, I have to say this book hits all the right notes.

  I am a big fan of authors who can turn fairytales on their heads and pervert them into something twisted and horrific. There is a rich tradition of such inventiveness in horror fiction. From Ann Rice’s BDSM themed Sleeping Beauty trilogy to Kathe Koja’s eerie take on Little Red Riding Hood, I Shall Do Thee Mischief in the Wood to movies like Silent Night, Deadly Night and Leprechaun In The Hood (Yes, I went there) horror has delighted in usurping the myths and fantasies of our youth and using them as inspiration for nightmares. Shane McKenzie has continued this fine tradition with his tale of madness and bloodshed, Stork.

  It will probably come as no surprise that I like my fiction wet, dripping in body fluids, the redder the better. I am no fan of quiet, atmospheric horror. Creepy is fine as long as it leads to something gut-wrenching and horrific. For me to stay interested, I have to believe there will be a major pay-off at the end. I have to believe blood will be spilled, pain will be felt, and lives will be lost. That, to me, is the essence of horror. Not just the fear of the bizarre or the unkown, but the fear of impending extreme physical trauma. The idea that at any moment something really bad, really painful, might (and probably will) happen to characters you have come to know and love is at the core of what makes this genre we love so deliciously terrifying. Monsters don’t just jump out and yell “Boo!” They rip your intestines out through your assholes. Ghosts don’t just slam doors and move objects around the room. They possess you and force you to murder your family. That promise, the promise of mayhem, has to be fulfilled for me to feel satisfied. If I read a book where lots of eerie, creepy things happen and then it ends without any major act of brutality, I feel cheated, let down, betrayed, and pissed-da-fuck-off!

  Horror should be just that. Horrifying. Not merely unsettling, but it should force you to look away, to read the pages through the gaps between your fingers. It should make you cringe and shudder. No one picks up a book of horror looking for the safe and sane. They want an experience as far from the ordinary as getting head is from getting a header (nod to Edward Lee). That’s what I want out of a horror story, anyway.

  I also like stories with characters you can root for and empathize with. Good characterization is essential to the telling of a truly unnerving and unsettling story. Stork delivers in both areas. The characters are likeable and the gore is plentiful. I won’t spoil the suspense by talking too much about the story. I shall instead introduce the author.

  Shane Mckenzie is a true horror fan. I kicked his ass the day I met him and he kept coming back for more. He loves horror that much. Allow me to clarify. I kicked his ass in the gym while teaching him Muay Thai kickboxing. He came to me because he was about to have his first daughter and wanted to be able to protect her. So I taught him how to punch and kick and throw knees and elbows and block well enough to avoid getting his head taken off in a brawl. I made him sweat until he felt like there was nothing left for him to perspire except blood and after each training session, he would pick my brain about writing. It turns out that my novel, Succulent Prey, was one of the first horror novels Shane ever read after being an avid horror movie buff for years. My gruesome little novel served as a gateway to novels by Edward Lee, Jack Ketchum, Nate Southard, and Brian Keene, fanning a love for horror literature that led him to want to try his own hand at the craft.

  Oh, and I know how that makes you worry. A recent horror fan turned horror writer? Sounds like a recipe for mediocrity. But remember when I said Shane was a true horror fan? He’s not the type of guy who would sully the good reputation of the genre (don’t you dare laugh) by adding more garbage to the junk heap. When Shane decided it was time to write his own stories, he scoured through books on writing and editing and taught himself the craft. He sought the advice of his peers and idols in the genre and got his shit together before he dared expose his shit to the world. Trust me. You’ll like his shit. It’s good shit. He learned well. This is an author who is poised to become a real force in the genre. It is perhaps fitting that one of Shane’s first literary “babies” comes courtesy of that fabled bird that brings bundles of joy to deserving parents. And trust me this baby has a soul and Shane McKenzie is a deserving parent.

  Wrath James White, March 9, 2012

  Stork

  Suzey woke to a searing pain in her abdomen that needled down to her womanhood. Even through the sharp pains, the grogginess of unconsciousness still muddied her mind, and she writhed in the cool sheets of her bed, moaned, moved her arms and legs as if she were making a blanket angel.

  It wasn’t until her brain registered the wet warmth surrounding her, coating her legs, soaking her nightgown heavy that she sat up and gasped. Her arms immediately wrapped around the small bulge of her belly, cradling it; she rocked herself for a moment, the room still too dark to see what she already knew.

  “No…no, no, no…” Tears flooded her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Strings of saliva connected her upper and lower lips as she wept, longing for Eddie’s embrace. She reached to his side of the bed anyway, ran her damp hands over the dip there.

  “Nnnooo…”

  The pain lanced through her body again, a violent pulsing that refused to let up. A high-pitched whine squeezed from her throat and she kicked her legs, her heels shoving the comforter away.

  She crawled across the bed and twisted the knob on the lamp. Sickly yellow light spilled into the room and revealed to her what she already knew was there. Just the sight of the blood-soaked sheets and comforter birthed a scream from the depths of her stomach. She rolled out of the bed, landed hard on her side. Blood stained her hands, darkest at her fingertips.

  The carpet wiped some of the blood away as she crawled toward the discarded jeans lying in a heap by the bedside table. She fished for her cell phone, choking on her sobs and sniffling. It nearly slipped from her slick hand, but she squeezed it tight, had to dial Eddie’s number three times due to her shaking finger.

  It rang forever and she was sure he was asleep, that he wouldn’t answer. “Hey, baby? Kinda late, isn’t it?”

  “E-eddie…oh, god.” She dropped the phone as she wept harder than ever. Just the sound of Eddie’s tinny voice made everything feel more real, and his panic crackled from the phone on the floor, her husband’s tone growing more frantic by the second. She swiped it back up, lightly pressed it to her ear.

  “Jesus, Suzey! What’s happened? Are you all right?”

  “Eddie…it’s happened again…it h-happened
ag-again… What’s wrong with me!”

  There was such a long silence on the other end, she thought Eddie had hung up. In that quick instant, she imagined him leaving her, finding another woman, a better woman. Someone that could give him what he wanted, someone whose body wasn’t a wasteland, a barren desert. And she wasn’t even mad at him. She understood.

  “Are you okay, baby?” The deep, sleep-thick voice startled her. “Are you hurt?”

  She took a deep breath, wiped her face on her arm. “There’s pain, just like before. B-b-blood everywhere.”

  He sniffed, exhaled. “I’m on my way. First flight I can get on, I’m on it, okay?”

  She nodded, her face contorting in preparation for more tears. “Okay.”

  “We’re going to be okay, sweetie. We’ll make it through this, do you understand?”

  She nodded as a cry pushed out of her, quiet but full of pressure. Then a hard gasp followed by rhythmic whimpers.

  “Suzey, listen to me. I need you to be strong. We both need to be strong.”

  “I-I know…”

  “I’ll be there before you know it…we’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll…we’ll fig…”

  His voice trailed off and Suzey hung up before he had a chance to say another word. It was all her fault, she knew. She didn’t need any doctor to tell her that. It’s always been my fault, she thought. Always will be.

  The stork only brings the souls of children to worthy mothers.

  Her grandmother’s voice boiled in her brain, and she melted to the floor and cried face-down in the carpet.

  ***

  Suzey paced in front of the door, had been doing so for hours. She still couldn’t bring herself to change the sheets, and had only just showered an hour ago. The blood caked over her hands had dried into crimson gloves, and she had to scrub with her nails to get it off. They still looked too pink to her, the blood of her lifeless child tattooed there forever, a constant reminder that she was not destined for motherhood, not fertile enough to create life.

  Eddie had to go out of town for business, but was only a two hour flight away. Give him another two for transportation from the airport to the apartment, she told herself. Her eyes periodically darted toward the microwave clock, and it told her that, according to her calculations, he should have been home at least an hour ago. Every time she heard a car door slam, her stomach dropped, but Eddie just wouldn’t come through the threshold.

  Another throbbing spear of pain shot through her body, and she hugged her stomach, widened her nostrils, and breathed deep.

  The door flew open. Eddie, sweat beading his face like crystallized acne, panted, fell to his knees when he locked eyes with Suzey. His lip hopped up and down, and he extended his arms, invited her to join him on the floor. And she did. They wept into each other’s shoulders, their arms tied in a knot around each other.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry…I’m so s-sorry…” Her throat burned from crying so long and hard. Eddie squealed as he sobbed, then seemed to catch himself, tightening his body and squeezing her.

  “We’re okay, baby. Yeah? Okay, okay. We’re fine.” His fingers combed her hair, and he peppered her forehead with kisses. He dropped his mouth to hers and they kissed, long and hard, lubricated and sloppy with tears.

  “It’s me. I know it’s me. You shouldn’t be with me, E-eddie.” She shook her head, pulled away from his embrace. “I’m cursed. My body…it’s no good.”

  “I don’t want to hear that shit. Don’t even start with that bullshit, okay?” All sadness was absent from his voice now. “You’re my wife. I love you, okay? I love you.”

  Then his eyes coasted to the mess in the bedroom. The austere expression oozed into a grimace; he climbed to his feet, walked toward it with wide eyes, his steps stiff, tentative. He didn’t cry, didn’t make a sound.

  Suzey followed him, her hand covering her mouth. She forced herself to remain calm, awaited his reaction. Her hand crept upward, landed on his shoulder and balled up the fabric of his polo. Then she saw the pink hue staining her skin, and she quickly removed the hand, rubbed her palms together until they hurt.

  Eddie ran his fingertips over the thickening blood on the bed. “H-hospital…we need to get you to the hospital right away! C-come on, let’s—”

  “No, no hospital. It’s not as b-bad as it looks. I’m fine, it’s—” “Fine? Baby, look at all this blood. No, we’re going, we’re going right now.”

  “Ed, no. We’ve been through this before…the doctors, they can’t help. I’m fine, I just want to be here…with you. Okay?”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring the blood soaking into his pants. What might have been a smile eased over his mouth, but his eyes showed exhaustion.

  He nodded, patted the bed, glued his eyes to Suzey’s.

  She stepped into him, refusing to let the blood touch her, leaned her body softly against his knees and chest.

  “We can try again. Okay? We’ll just try again, that’s all.”

  She crossed her arms over her stomach, shook her head. “No. No, we can’t. I can’t. What’s the point?”

  He reached for her, but she pulled away. “Don’t talk that way. It’s what we always—”

  “This isn’t what I wanted, Eddie. Not like this.” Her heavy head hung from her limp neck. “This is the third one…the third. It’s just…not meant to be.”

  He stood, forced her to let him hold her. “We need to change things…our surroundings. What do you say we leave this fucking place, hm?”

  She tried to shove away, but he tightened his hold on her. Her head leaned back and she locked eyes with him. “What do you mean?”

  A smile, a real smile, lit his face. “That’s right. I got it. I was going to tell you before…before all this. But, baby, I got it.”

  “Oh my god, Eddie.” They hugged each other for what seemed like hours, but she didn’t want to let him go. Not ever. “So…what does this mean?”

  A kiss, soft and loving. “Well, for one thing, it means we need to go house shopping.”

  ***

  The electrical cord whipped through the air, whacked Suzey on her bare left buttock.

  Whap!

  She clenched her teeth, squeezed the tears from her eyes with a hard squint. But she didn’t cry out, it would only make Grandma hit harder.

  Another one. Whap! This one on the lower back, stinging like a hundred bees. Drool escaped her lip and pooled under her, and she gasped through her nose and the wall of her teeth.

  “Now why would you ask a question like that, hm? What could have put that thought in your head? A young girl like you already a whore? Just like your mother?”

  Whap!

  “Nghh…a girl at school,” Suzey squealed. “I…I didn’t believe her…I didn’t.”

  Grandma stepped around Suzey’s crouched body, the cord wrapped around her hands like brass knuckles. The veins on the back of her hands bulged from the pressure, looked ready to burst. “Pull your pants up.”

  Suzey wiped her face, did as she was told. She hugged her knees and tried not to look Grandma in the eye.

  “Do I need to remind you? I haven’t told you enough times?”

  Suzey had been told the story about the stork many times. Grandma’s way of explaining the uncomfortable subject of where babies come from, or at least that’s what the girl at school, Amanda, said.

  “A stork? And you really believe that? What are you, a baby or something?”

  “The stork brings the souls of babies to worthy mothers,” Suzey said to Grandma. “That’s what I told her.”

  But Amanda had only laughed. “I know how babies are made. I’ve seen my parents doing it, lots of times. My dad, he puts his thing in there, and my mom, she screams because it hurts so bad.”

  Confused and embarrassed, Suzey came straight home after school and asked Grandma about it. Big mistake.

  “This girl,” Grandma said, “has no soul. The stork would have never brought a child’s precious soul to
a mother like that.”

  “L-like me?”

  Grandma scowled. “Yes, Suzey, just like you. Your mother was a whore, I told you. The stork wouldn’t bring a child’s soul to a whore.”

  Suzey chewed on her tongue, hugged her knees. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “If I don’t have a soul…how am I alive?”

  The old woman chuckled, pulled the wire taught. “You’ve got evil in you. The devil’s spawn is what you are.”

  ***

  “I love it!” Suzey clapped, turned, wrapped her arms around Eddie’s neck.

  He snickered. “Yes…I think she likes it.”

  Suzey released her husband and faced the realtor. The woman beamed, extended her hand. Eddie shook it, rattling the gold bracelets on the woman’s arm.

  “Fantastic,” she said, then shook Suzey’s hand. “Let me just draw up the paperwork, and we’ll be in touch. You’ll be in your new home before you know it.”

  “Can we stay? I mean, just a little longer? Look around some more?” Suzey’s eyes bounced from the woman to Eddie.

  Eddie faced the realtor, raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

  “Yes, of course. Feel free.” And she waddled off and out the front door.

  Eddie grabbed Suzey by the shoulders, squeezed. “You really like it, baby?”

  “Oh my god, it’s incredible!” She ran into the kitchen, hopped up and sat on the granite-top island. “Just look at this kitchen. Eddie, I never imagined I could ever live in a place like this.”

  He joined her, ran his fingertips over the countertops, the same dark granite as the island. “I know, me either. But get used to it, baby. There’s nothing but great things in our future.”

  Not everything is great.

  But she forced those thoughts back down. No negativity right now, no pessimism. The doctor’s visit after the latest miscarriage had been cookie cutter. The same old shit, just like she knew it would be, but with a hint of accusation. If it happens again, she told herself, no fucking doctors. They can’t do a damn thing for me.