"Mother… Mummy, I'm
frightened," the quaking urgency in the boy's voice
made his mother look sharply at him and realise at
once that something serious was wrong. She knew his
empathic abilities allowed him to sense moods and
feelings in others and wondered for a few moments
what could be triggering this trouble in him. He was
not normally nervous and he was so special that,
although he would only be eleven years old in a few
days, he was in so many ways pretty much an adult.
"What's the matter, darling?""I don't know…" The
boy paused. "I just feel fear… and… hate!" His eyes
widened as the feelings grew stronger.
Then the woman heard the faint sounds of raised
voices as the mob approached. Understanding jolted
her into action. Without hesitation she sprang up
from her chair, grabbed the boy, and pushed him into
a small hidden recess under the stairs.
"Don't move or make a sound. Whatever happens,
don't let anyone know where you are. After, if it's
safe and you can't find me, go to Joe's, like I've
always told you."
"But Mummy… "
"Promise me!"
"Yes but… "
"NO BUTS! PROMISE!" his mother shouted - almost a
scream.
The boy seemed to know then that it would perhaps
be the last thing he could do for his mother. A calm
appeared to spread visibly over him like a huge,
comforting blanket, at once engulfing and soothing
him. Suddenly, he was very grown up. "I promise,
Mother - I love you."
"I love you too … so very much. Always remember
that." She kissed him and closed the tough metal
screen across the recess. She just had time to
glance at her work and feel satisfied that no one
would know the alcove existed. She quickly placed a
chair in front of it for good measure and was glad
that she had, reluctantly at the time, paid doubtful
attention to her friend Joe's paranoia, allowing him
to construct the extremely secure, if very small,
hiding hole. Next moment the front door crashed in
and the house was immediately filled with what
seemed and sounded like yelling and baying animals.
The mob of fifteen or twenty frenzied men smashed
everything in their path.
"Where's the freak?" the apparent leader snarled
at the boy's mother as he grabbed her by the throat.
He was heavy, fat and ugly, and the stench of body
odour surrounded him like a disgusting cloak of
evil.
The woman stared hard into the awful gaze of the
brute, somehow suppressing, from both her face and
her voice, all sign of the abject terror she
actually felt. "What freak? What d'you mean?"
The brute leered. "You know! Where's the fuckin'
freaky wierdo? The one you made all by yourself."
"Not… here." The boy heard his mother's voice
struggling now against the man's grip. Through tiny
holes drilled into the pattern of the screen he
managed to make out how big and repellent the man
was. The left side of his face was deformed somehow,
paralysed, or nauseatingly scarred perhaps -
whatever the cause, it twisted and distorted his
features horribly, pulling his mouth into a natural
and permanent snarl.
"Check upstairs. I want that friggin' cloned
freak." Several of the mob fell over each other to
obey.
A small rat of a man darted forward and pushed
his way through. "I'll find it," he promised rashly
in a nasal whine
The next few moments seemed like an eternity to the
boy in his hiding place as he waited, breath held
and straining to distinguish more from the melee of
crashing and banging sounds that came from upstairs
and the other rooms in the house. The cacophony of
noise made no sense and fear tightened its grip on
him more than ever. "Not up here," the rat called.
The leader stuck his face up close to the woman's
and snarled once more, quiet and awful menace in his
voice. "Where is it?" he demanded. His stinking
breath was hot and disgusting as the boy's mother
gulped for breath, and it made her want to vomit. In
a fit of desperation and sudden fury, she clawed at
the brute's face and struggled free. He grabbed at
her and the pretty dress she was wearing tore away
to leave her naked to the waist. The man stared.
Then, with a vicious leer, he wrenched at the fabric
still clutched in his hand, pulling the rest of the
dress from her. He forced her to the floor, ripping
away her delicate, feminine underwear as he did
so. "I'll show you how kids are supposed to be
made!"
Then, mercifully, because of the angle, the boy
could not see what was happening, but he heard his
mother scream and felt her pain as the beast entered
her.
"Evil bastard," she yelled as she twisted one
hand free from the man's helper who held her. Her
fingernails found the brute's face and gouged at his
eyes, blinding him temporarily in one and
permanently in the other.
"Bi-i-tch!" the man screamed in rage and dreadful
pain.
The boy's eyes widened in fear as the man's fists
flailed at his mother's head...
© Copyright Adam Frayle
2008 |
