The Spitter
Denise Combs rose out of bed early on Saturday. She ran her hand over her stomach and looked out at the children playing. The suburbs of Fairfield, Pennsylvania had been a good choice to raise her family. Despite being seven months pregnant, she still managed to spring out of bed full of energy and determination to tackle the day that was ahead of her. She put on her gold spandex shorts and sports bra and readied herself for her morning stretches. Passing the mirror, she stopped and giggled to herself wondering what her husband must have been thinking when he purchased it for her. Nonetheless, she would wear it because he liked it.
After her morning exercise, she dug out her favorite pair of capris and the most comfortable pink thong she could find. Pregnant or not, she hated panty lines. Rousing her other two children from bed, she made breakfast, washed some clothes, and woke up her husband. After a quick shower, she tossed her hair into two low pony tails, grabbed her keys and drove her son to his basketball game. Her day was filled with errands and she still hadn't decided what to make for dinner.
Upon returning home, Denise quickly braided her daughter's hair for the sleepover she was attending that night, then dashed out the door once again to pick up her husband's prescription. While at the pharmacy, she picked up some extra vitamins. She didn't want to catch the virus that was going around. The "Green Flu" is what they were calling it on the news. It was bad enough that the Pharmacy was filled with people coughing and sneezing all over her. One young girl, pregnant as well, had fainted and accidentally scratched Denise as she fell to the floor. The wound was itchy but she thought nothing of it, as the real concern was for this young mother's well being.
Arriving home for the final time, she made dinner and visited with her family before the children went out, leaving Denise and her husband home alone. She layed down on the couch next to Elliott and placed her feet up on his lap. He smiled, getting the hint, and began rubbing them gently. She put her head back and smiled, appreciating her massage.
"You do far too much," Elliott said over the news reports. Denise laughed, nodding her head slightly. "Well I'm off work." she laughed. "I need to do something to keep me busy." "You'd be doing this even if you were still at work," Elliott chuckled. Rolling her eyes and smiling, "You're right," Denise looked up at him. "Tell you what; this will be my night off! I'll just sit here and enjoy your foot rub." Elliott laughed and nodded. "Deal," he said, looking back to the news.
It seemed that all the stations were talking about the flu pandemic that was sweeping across the country. The death toll had already risen into triple digits and it was only a few days since the first reported case. "They say this is worse than the swine flu," Denise said, looking slightly grim.
"Yeah, well, swine flu was nothing to worry about, was it?" Elliott said reassuringly. "It'll blow over in a couple of weeks."
"I don't want the kids to get sick," Denise said trying to hide her nerves. "I've been feeling a bit under the weather myself and I'd hate to give them something..."
"That's the baby talking," Elliott squeezed her feet gently. "Trust me, you'll be fine." Denise sighed and rubbed her forehead. Smiling to herself, she looked over to Elliott.
"Thought of anymore names?" she asked. Her husband smiled; "I thought we were going to wait until he's born."
"So you're assuming it's going to be a boy?" Denise laughed. "Or do you know something I don't?"
"It goes boy, girl, boy, girl, girl, boy, girl. In that order," Elliott said sincerely.
"Bull," Denise laughed. "Absolute bull!"
"You know I'm right," Elliott grinned. "So don't bother trying to argue."
Looking at Elliott with one eyebrow raised, "How are you right? I have four sisters and no brothers."
"There's an explanation for that," Elliott paused. "Sex change." Denise laughed and slapped him playfully.
Suddenly she grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly. He looked up at her smiling.
"He's kicking!" he grinned. "Or she," Denise winked.
"I'm so making a bet!" Elliott said playfully. "That's a little football player in there." Denise put her hand over Elliott's and the two sat there, enjoying the movement of their baby.
Denise suddenly lurched forward, squeezing Elliott's hand in pain.
"Oh God!" she cried.
"What is it?" Elliott asked, worried. Wincing in pain, Denise sat back, putting her hands on her stomach.
"Oh dear God!" she gasped, the air suddenly removed from her lungs. "It hurts so much!"
"Are you going into labor?" Elliott cried. Denise grabbed his arm and stared at him.
"Get me to the hospital! Now!" she screamed, spitting out some blood much to Elliott's shock.
Driving through the streets as fast as traffic would allow, Elliott could only shoot glances over to Denise as she squirmed in the passenger's seat, holding onto her stomach. As the street lights flashed by, he was sure he could see the baby moving slightly. He pulled into the hospital and helped his wife out of the car, leaving the doors open and the keys in the ignition, he carried her inside.
Unbeknownst to either of them, Denise had contracted the virus at the pharmacy. Inside her body the virus was slowly dissolving the frail fetal tissue into a putrid pool of bile and melted flesh; steadily growing more and more deadly. The innocent life that had once thrived was now a swelling mass of corrosive sludge.
Immediately Denise found herself lying on a gurney, being wheeled through the cold, sterile corridors of Mercy Hospital. Above her the doctors and nurses were talking hurriedly. She could make out a small part of their conversation; something about a young girl who had attacked a group of orderlies and nurses. However, nothing mattered more than the pain she felt and the horrifying thought that something bad was happening to her baby.
Elliott was stopped at the OR doors and told to wait outside as the physicians began prepping her for surgery. The words "out of time" and "danger to the baby" fell onto his ears. She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of a nurse, pulling her close to her. "Do whatever it takes to save my baby!" she whispered with tears streaming down her face. Denise suddenly let out a loud scream of agony that could be heard out in the corridor. Elliott looked through the window and saw his wife squirming on the table as the doctors gathered around her trying to hold her down. The heart monitor was beeping rapidly as Denise's body began to shake uncontrollably. "We have to take the baby now!" One doctor yelled. "We have to perform an emergency caesarean." The nurses began to prepare Denise, not having time to anaesthetize her.
Taking the scalpel in hand, the doctor prepared to make an incision but was halted when Denise's pelvis shot up with incredible force causing all the staff to stumble back. She let out a blood curdling scream. Blood poured from her mouth. Denise reached toward the doctor with agonizing pain mixed with fear on her face. In a split second the monitor flat-lined. She laid there, eyes open and listless but still breathing. "We need to get this baby out now!" the doctor cried with urgency. "I'm not getting a heartbeat from the child!" a nurse yelled out.
Elliott, watching from the window, looked away in horror. Suddenly, the sound of tearing flesh filled the OR. "What is that?" the doctor asked. Looking down he saw Denise's face. Her mouth opened wide and her head began to move. Jumping back in shock, he looked on in silent horror as her neck stretched before his very eyes, the mouth opening so wide that the jaw broke with a loud 'pop'. Her eyes no longer displayed signs of the pain she was suffering but still looked as though she was aware of what was going on. Her neck continued to stretch to an abnormal length, blood still flowing from her mouth. Suddenly the heart monitor kicked to life, showing signs of a heartbeat.
"Now!" the doctor yelled at the nurse, "give me the scalpel. We have to get the baby out now!" Placing the knife to her stomach, the doctor made a hastily incision. Immediately, a stream of glowing green liquid shot from the incision, covering the face of one nurse.
In the corridor Elliott sat covering his face. He feared the worst after hearing the screams of pain and terror coming from the operating room. Suddenly, one of the nurses burst through the doors, her face covered by her hands. Elliott ran to her. She took her burning hands away, revealing an acidic substance on her skin that continued to dissolve her face before his very eyes. Frantically removing his kerchief from his pocket and placed it over his nose and mouth. The smell of burning, melting flesh was enough to make him gag. Still he sat over her wondering what, if anything, he could do to help. Screaming in agony, the nurse writhed on the floor until she finally died.
Standing up, Elliott looked through the window to the operating room to witness the anarchy as people were lying on the ground, bleeding and burning from the same substance as the nurse. He saw one doctor try to run for the door but a large ball of green acid flew from across the room, covering his feet and legs. Screaming, the doctor tried to crawl through the door as his legs began to melt away. Elliott turned and ran toward him but stopped suddenly as he saw a tall dark figure. He gasped in shock as he saw a creature that resembled his beloved spit a large mouthful of acid on what remained of the doctor.
The Spitter looked up and saw Elliott. With short squealing, shrieking noises coming from her gaping mouth, she stepped toward him leaving a trail of glowing lime green liquid that bubbled and sizzled. She stared at him through the window placing her hand on it. Her fingers had become grossly elongated and her skin thin. Mortified by the sight, Elliott stepped back as she let out a terrifying cry. Instantly a ball of acid shot at the window dissolving the door separating the two of them.
He turned to run. He could see a corridor coming up on his left. Suddenly, he heard a high pitched scream coming from the farthest room down the corridor that made his bones ache; a woman screamed, "She's killing her! Security, security, help!" Suddenly, the sound of a gun shot, then another; multiple shots rang through the hallways. Instinctively he ducked, stopping dead in his tracks. The eerie screeching sound he had been trying to escape was getting louder, closer. He glanced over his shoulder and caught the sight of a mutated right foot; its toe jetting out from the side resembling that of a monkey's foot. His eyes slowly moved up the leg to the abdomen of the creature. They began to fill with tears recognizing his wife's favorite pair of capris.
Their eyes met. He stared into them trying to find a glimpse of hope; something that would give him back his Denise. With a final shriek, the Spitter's chest swelled and a ball of acid covered his face.
Written by: Hope Meza
2-27-2012
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