Last Wrong Turn Read online

  “What's wrong?” the woman shouts, her voice filled with even more panic than before. “Where's my baby?”

  Ignoring her, I stare at the baby and watch as it twists in mid-air. I can tell it's trying to cry out, but the cord is wrapped tight around its neck, reducing its screams to little more than a series of twitching gasps. Clearly it's unable to get itself free, but for the first time its eyes have opened a little, and its feet are kicking violently. Smiling, I reach down and brush my hand against one of the feet, and I can't help wondering whether this is the same foot that kicked at me earlier when the baby was still inside the woman's swollen belly.

  It's beautiful.

  “What are you doing?” the woman yells, accompanied by what sounds like fabric being torn. “Get me out of here!”

  I stare at the baby for a moment longer, before slowly realizing that its face seems to be changing color slightly, become a little darker and bluer. I think it's a boy, because it has the parts that only boys have, and now its eyes are open wider than before, almost as if they're starting to bulge out from the sockets. As its face becomes bluer and bluer, I can't help thinking that maybe I should try to help in some way. For one thing, I could twist the cord away from the little boy's neck, although I'm worried that maybe it's supposed to be like this. For all I know, babies might need to hang down like this, and it's perfectly normal for its little face to be turning a deeper and deeper shade of purple. I wish I could -

  “Where is he?” the woman screams.

  Before I can react, something grabs the top of my head and pulls me to one side. I feel nails scratching my scalp, and when I pull away I see that the woman managed to tear her hand out of the restraints. She lost the flesh all the way up to her wrist, but now she's reaching at me with a bright red, bloodied hand that's dripping blood all over the floor.

  “He's down here,” I stammer, pulling back so she can't reach me.

  For a moment, I watch in horror as the woman reaches down and fumbles to grab hold of the baby. Her bloodied fingers almost manage to grab the cord, but not quite, and the baby is still gasping as it dangles blue-faced over the edge of the table.

  “Help him!” the woman shouts. “For fuck's sake, what's wrong with you?”

  Reaching out, I grab the baby's feet and lift him up a little. Immediately, the woman grabs his shoulders and hauls him up onto the table.

  Suddenly filled with a sense of panic, I scramble on all fours and make my way around the table, almost slipping as I stumble to my feet and run toward the door. Once I'm out in the corridor, I pull the door shut and then slump down against the floor. The woman is still screaming in the next room, but I'm too scared to go and see what's happening. All I can manage is to sit breathlessly in the hallway and wait, listening to the increasingly desperate bumps and cries from the other side of the door.

  Enda

  I can hear her moving about downstairs. Her baby is screaming, which sounds bad, although at least it means the poor little thing is alive. Unfortunately, I think the woman managed to get off the table. I also can't remember whether I locked the door properly, so I think there's a chance she might be able to get out.

  Curled in a ball under my bed, I'm trembling with fear. I keep replaying the past few minutes over and over, but I still can't quite believe that a little person came out of the woman's body, and that it happened the same way it happens with the pigs. Squeezing my eyes tight shut, I try to ignore the sound of the baby's bawling, but if anything the sound is getting louder.

  How did the baby get into her?

  Did it just start growing all by itself, or did something have to happen first?

  How do I know my belly won't suddenly get big with a baby?

  Reaching under my shirt, I run a hand over my belly and check that it's still smooth and flat. Pa might not be the best person to ask about these things, but I'm going to have to find out somehow what causes a baby to start growing inside. That's not the kind of thing I want to have catch me by surprise.

  Finally I crawl out from under the bed and get to my feet. I'm still scared, but I also know I have to be brave. If the woman gets away, she'll tell people about me, and then everything might end. I need to stop her, and then I need to ask her some questions.

  Heading to the top of the stairs, I stop and peer down. A shudder immediately passes through my body as I see that the door to the storage room is wide open, and there's a trail of blood smeared across the floor, leading all the way past the bottom of the stairs and through toward the next part of the hallway. A moment later, I hear the baby crying near the front door, and then I hear a familiar clicking sound.

  The front door is swinging open, which means the woman is getting away. I can't allow that. After all, even if the woman can't be my new sister, her little baby would make a wonderful brother. Plus, I can make her explain how bellies work.

  Enda

  Early evening rain is falling as I scurry past the pig pen, keeping low until I get all the way over to the other side of the truck. Sure enough, when I peer around the side I see the naked woman stumbling through the mud, heading toward the gate. She has the little baby in her arms, and I can even see the cord hanging down between them.

  Taking care to make as little noise as possible, I wade through the mud until I reach the wall and then I slip over. I have a kitchen knife in my right hand, and I keep it gripped tight once I'm on the other side of the wall. Crawling along toward the gate, I can tell the sound of gasps that I'm getting closer to the woman and her baby, and a moment later I hear a metallic clanking sound, which can only mean one thing.

  She's trying to get the gate open.

  Next, I hear the gate's hinges creaking, just as I get into position behind the main post. I wait, adjusting my grip on the knife a little, and a moment later the woman stumbles into view, limping heavily. For a few seconds, I'm mesmerized by the sight of glistening blood that has dribbled down her legs to meet the splatters of gooey mud that cover her ankles and feet. Looking up, I see that she's already turning to limp away from me, silhouetted against the gray sky and heading toward the valley in the distance.

  It's now or never.

  Getting to my feet, I realize that she still doesn't know I'm right behind her. She's sobbing so loud and her baby's gurgling, which means she probably can't even hear me. I step closer and hold the knife up, trying to decide where to stab her. The flesh of her back looks slightly torn and stretched, and finally I pick a spot on the lower right side, a little way above her hip. I move the blade closer, trying to time my strike just right.

  I hold my breath for a moment.

  Suddenly lunging forward, I slide the knife into her flesh, while grabbing her shoulder to keep her close. She lets out a cry of pain and slumps forward, and I fall with her until we both slam down into the mud. Momentarily dropping the knife, I reach out to grab the handle, only to pause as I see that the baby has fallen a few feet away, still attached to its mother thanks to the thick, knotted cord. Finally remembering to take hold of the knife, I'm about to turn and check whether the woman is dead when – without any warning – she slams her elbow into my face, knocking me back.

  “Wait!” I gasp, but she quickly turns and kicks me hard in the chin. Again, I slump down in the mud.

  The baby is still screaming as it's gathered up in the woman's arms. She stumbles to her feet, but I lunge at her and once again drive the knife into her waist. This time, I hold on tight and drag her down with all my strength until she slumps against the stone wall and then drops into the mud. She turns and tries to hit me, but I duck out of the way before pulling the knife out and then driving it into her shoulder. When she cries out, I twist the knife around and then grab the screaming baby as it slips from her arms.

  Stepping on the cord with my left foot, I hold it in place as I slice through, finally severing the connection between the two of them.

  “Wait here,” I tell the baby, setting it down in the mud before grabbing the woman's legs and s
tarting to haul her back through the gate.

  Although she cries out and tries to grab the child, the woman is powerless to stop me as I drag her across the yard. Blood is flowing freely from her wounds, but I can't risk waiting for her to bleed out. My arms are aching as I finally reach the gate that leads into the pig pen, although I still manage to hold the woman's left leg with one hand and pull the gate open with the other. Already, the pigs are starting to lumber over to inspect their latest meal, and I drop the woman's twitching body in the center of the pen and then jump over her, quickly making my way to the gate and swinging it shut again.

  “No!” the woman screams. “What are you doing?”

  Turning, I see that she's reaching out to me, as if she expects me to change my mind and let her out. Her eyes are wide with fear, but when she tries to crawl closer, she lets out a pained gasp and slumps down face-first into the mud.

  Suddenly I realize that I shouldn't do this.

  I should keep her alive, and make her talk to me.

  Then again, I can't risk letting her get away again.

  “I'm sorry,” I whisper, even thought I hate myself for what's about to happen. “This isn't what I want, it's juts how it has to be.”

  I watch as the pigs reach her, and I can't help feeling a flash of relief as their bristly snouts start pushing against her broken and damaged flesh. I can hear the baby still crying and I truly want to go and give him some comfort, but I need to wait at least a moment longer, until I'm sure that the pigs are going to do their job properly. Deep down, I know I shouldn't be killing her like this, and I wish I had time to send her on her way, but I'm in too much of a hurry. She's just gonna have to go to the pigs instead.

  Finally, one of them takes the woman's left arm in its mouth and gives her a tentative bite, as if it's checking to make sure that she really is food. She cries out, her voice filled with agony, and that's my cue to turn and hurry back across the yard. I know the pigs will get the rest done, and I figure the crying baby is my biggest priority right now. Sure enough, when I get to the gate I see the baby wriggling in the mud as more rain comes crashing down. Smiling, I step over and pick him up, and for a moment I simply look into his eyes as he stares back at me.

  “It's okay,” I tell him, as his mother's cries ring out in the distance. “I've got you now. There's no reason to be scared.”

  Turning, I carry him back into the yard and toward the house. I want to go over and check that the pigs are finishing their work, but the baby already seems very upset and I think maybe I should shield him from the worst of what's happening. I can hear the woman crying out, and that's enough for me to know that she won't be a problem anymore. Slipping into the house, I pull the door shut and then I take the baby upstairs. My legs are trembling slightly with nerves, and I honestly don't really know how I'm going to look after the wriggling little thing, but I figure I'll work it out as I go along.

  After all, I've managed to keep Pa alive, and that wasn't too difficult.

  Reaching my room, I carry the baby inside and drop to my knees, still holding him and trying to work out exactly what I should do next. The woman can still be heard screaming outside, but the rest of the world feels as if it's a million miles away. All that matters is the little bundle of wriggling flesh in my arms.

  She's mine now. All mine.

  I wish I hadn't been forced to kill the woman, but at least the pigs are gonna get nice and fat. I don't think they've ever had two full meals in one day.

  “Enda?” Pa calls out from the next room along. “What are you doing? What's that noise?”

  “It's okay,” I whisper, looking down at the baby's face as he continues to scream. “I'm your -”

  Before I can finish, his eyes open a little and he looks up at me as his screams gets louder. Still, he'll calm down soon enough, even if right now he's horrified by the scar that runs down my face. He'll learn not to cry when he looks at me. It'll just take a little time, that's all.

  “I'm gonna take good care of you,” I tell him with a smile, leaning closer. At the same time, the woman's cries suddenly stop outside, leaving us sitting in silence. “I'm gonna raise you properly,” I continue. “Forever and ever!”

  Enda

  “You can take my bed,” I tell the baby, settling him down on the sheets. “I'll wash it later, so it'll be nicer for you. Will that make you stop crying?”

  I wait, but still he screams and bawls.

  “What's wrong?” I ask, trying to stay calm. In the back of my mind, I'm starting to wonder whether maybe I'm doing something wrong. “Can't you tell me? Can't you talk yet?”

  I reach down and place a hand on the side of his face, but if anything this actually makes him cry harder, and his cheeks are looking very red and flushed. Figuring I should try something else, I lift him up and hold him closer, giving him a hug, but he doesn't seem to feel any better. It's almost as if the sight of my face is making him upset, and I guess I can kinda understand that, even if he's just gonna have to get used to me.

  “I'm your new Mama now,” I whisper. “I'm your -”

  Freezing, I suddenly realize that I am his Mama. The idea sends a shiver through my chest, but I quickly tell myself that I'll be much, much better than my own Mama. She died a long time ago, before the time when I can remember things, and truth be told I haven't heard many good things about her from Pa. Still, the past is the past, and I can't do anything about that now. This baby, on the other hand, needs me to keep him safe and happy, and I'm going to do just that.

  “If you were a pig,” I tell him, “I'd just leave you out there in the yard, but I'm thinking new humans need something more. Are you hungry? What kind of things do you like to eat?”

  I set him down again and scramble across the bed. I still have some bread from this morning, so I grab it and hold it close to the baby's face. When he doesn't bite, I nibble the hard crusts off and offer it again, this time gently pressing the bread against his screaming mouth.

  “It's good bread,” I explain, frustrated by his refusal to eat. “I made it just two days ago, so it's still pretty soft. There's not even any mold on it.”

  I try stuffing the bread into his mouth, but he quickly starts spitting it out. Grabbing a cup from a nearby table, I try pouring water into his mouth, but he splutters and screams even louder, turning his face away.

  “What do you want?” I ask again, trying not to sound flustered even though I'm starting to run out of ideas. I know I could try asking Pa for help, but somehow I don't think he'd be much use. He hates me now, and anyway, he did a terrible job of raising Brother and not a particularly good job with me. I want this baby to grow up strong and right, and happy. I want him to have a better life than me.

  I just need to get him to stop crying first.

  “Should I name you?” I ask, leaning closer and smiling.

  Looking back at me, the baby screams even louder.

  “I'm gonna call you...”

  I pause, trying to think of a name. I don't know many names, although I remember a few from the books on Pa's shelves, and I figure I'll pick one of those.

  “Alistair,” I say finally. “You're gonna be Alistair. How does that sound?”

  I wait, hoping he might calm down a little, but he's crying so hard, he seems likes he's struggling to breathe. Maybe he doesn't like his name, although I doubt he really understands that it is his name, not yet. The truth is, he just seems to be entirely focused on bawling and crying, almost as if nothing else matters.

  “Come on, Alistair,” I say softly, lifting him up and cradling him in my arms, figuring he might feel comforted. “It's alright now, you're not alone. I'm here.”

  With that, I lean closer and give him a kiss on the cheek. It's the first time I've ever kissed anything that's not one of the pigs.

  “You're gonna get used to it here,” I tell him. “I did. Pa says I was a baby when I came here, just like you. I was hurt, too, and Pa saved my life. He sewed my face back together, so I was i
n a much worse state when I got to the farm. He says I cried and cried like you wouldn't believe, but eventually I got used to life here. I know it must seem cold and gray right now, but -”

  I flinch as his cries get louder.

  “I know it doesn't seem all that great at the moment,” I continue, with a growing sense of desperation, “but you will start to appreciate the place. And if you're mad about what happened to the woman whose belly you were in, well... I'm sorry. I don't usually do things like that, but I was in a hurry and I had to get rid of her. I'm not a monster, though. Really, I'm not. You're gonna be my little brother, or... Maybe I can be Mama for you instead, so you'll be my little boy.” I wait for him to stop crying, but he's bawling worse than ever. “Do you want milk?” I ask finally. “I think Pa mentioned once that babies like milk. We've got milk, I'll get you some.”

  Setting him back on the bed, I hurry out of the room.

  “Enda!” Pa yells from his room. “What in all hell is going on in this house?”

  Ignoring him, I race down the stairs and through to the kitchen. My mind is spinning as I try to think of all the things I might try with the baby, but for now I figure the priority is to get him properly fed. Once I reach the pantry, I grab a jug of milk and take a sniff. It's a few days old now and maybe not the best it could be, but I figure the baby won't know any better.

  Feeling a sudden gust of wind, I look through to the pantry and see that the back door is hanging open. I guess I must have forgotten to shut it properly, so I head over and lock it, and then I make my way back to the kitchen and -

  Stopping suddenly, I realize I can hear footsteps in the room above.

  I stay completely still, telling myself that there's no way Pa could creep about like that. With his legs being so bad, he struggles to walk at all. Still, someone is definitely moving very slowly and very carefully along the landing, and a moment later I hear the floorboards creaking in my bedroom.