The Lamb Was Sure To Go

Chapter 2

Today the priest seemed to want to go on more about the Immaculate Conception with more passion than his previous sermon. He made sure his words reached out to every person in that church house, even if they flew over their heads and went out the door. He had always intended for them to reach every person he could, sometimes wondering if his preaching was strong enough to travel out the doors and spread through the land. It might have done so that day.

As Father Atticus droned on about the miraculous labor of the Virgin Mary, another type of labor was taking place, yet it was the opposite of miraculous. She lay in her bed, clutching clumps of her blanket in fistfuls. As Father Atticus' speech went on, so did her screams. Her insides twisted as the rest of her body did, taffy inside of a weakened, torn wrapper. Stanley led the doctor to the bedroom, practically dragging him, as Flo's yells echoed the walls.

"She's been possessed by a banshee!" he exclaimed.

Doctor Hastings followed along patiently as one accustomed to this situation, not reacting to Stanley's alarm.

"I swear, doctor, that thing inside of her is going to be the death of both of us."

"Nothing to worry about," Dr. Hastings assured. "She is just under a great amount of pain. Time to ease her pain and prepare for delivery."

When Dr. Hastings saw Flo, he saw all of the usual signs associated with childbirth. Flo's body was damp with perspiration and stuck to the bedsheets in melted submission. Her face was tired, yet determined to make way for the new life inside of her. All the usual signs were there, except for one. Frowning, Dr. Hastings leaned in to look at her skin. All over Flo's body, her veins ran yellow. They were pale enough to be unnoticed by anyone except a doctor. Dr. Hastings approached the expecting mother carefully as to not let the concern show on his face.

"How are you doing, Flo?"

"I taste metal in my mouth," she said, her tongue as coppery as a rusted penny.

She made like she wanted to toss and turn, but doing so was too difficult. As he came closer to inspect her face, he saw the veins, sharp and skinny like the branches of a tree. To his confusion, and alarm, they also reached to her eyes, but did not quite touch her pupils.

"What is it?" Flo asked.

"Nothing, just observing. Tell me how you feel."

"Pain," Flo spat out right away. "This thing wants out and it wants out real bad."

"Of course it does," the doctor said with a supportive smile. "Let's listen to your heart."

He took out his stethoscope and placed it carefully over Flo's chest. The thumping that sounded was louder and faster than any other heartbeat he'd encountered. It was also at a lower sound, like a record track slowed down and dipped down the scale. The doctor's lips parted. The longer he kept his stethoscope there, the louder, the lower, and the more demanding those thumps became. It wants out, Flo had said. The thumps seemed to be communicating that to him, and if he let his imagination run away with him, he would have heard them form those words.

Flo screamed and set the doctor back a few feet.

"Get those towels," he instructed Stanley. "She's going into labor."

Flo thrashed and twisted and made like she wanted to leap off the bed. The doctor positioned some towels between her legs and some behind her shoulders. Stanley, as all expected fathers, paced uselessly about the room with his arms behind his back. The doctor put his ear to Flo's abdomen and spread her legs. Flo heaved in and out a few harsh breaths, and the veins stretched down her skin in brighter gold.