The Incubator

The air in the room was heavy that night, dark and oppressive. It hung like warm liquid on the walls, and furniture, and the individuals that stood around the bed. Although they were all sweating, no one seemed to notice the humidity. They were all too focused, too determined in their purpose to feel the weight in the room, or to hear the pounding rain which cascaded on the old windows. It was as if time had stopped, leaving only this moment. There were no phone calls, no radio, and not a soul outside this single bedroom. Nothing would disturb the sanctuary of this place. Tonight's success would determine the fate of humanity itself; of this, these people were certain.

In the dim candlelight, four men stood motionless, their eyes fixed on the old bed. They wore heavy, ragged sheets around their bodies, which hung close to the wooden floor. Each held a worn, leather-bound book in their hands and read the words from it slowly, methodically. Speaking in a foreign tongue, which was possibly Hebrew, they recited the lines over and over in tune with the beat of the rain. The chant continued long into the night, without the slightest hint of hesitation. And in the center of the four men, a woman lied on the bed, her womb swollen with an unborn child.

After hours of unbroken chanting, the men finally finished. For a few moments, only the sound of the woman's labored breathing could be heard under the hum of the storm. Then, one of the men stepped aside to what appeared to be a tool tray that held numerous surgical utensils. To the left of the shining tools, there was a silver bowl filled with a dark, red liquid. The man took a deep breath, and stretched his bald, aging head from side to side. He then dipped his left hand into the warm, sticky substance; the hot blood of a human being. A wave of excitement came over his weathered features as he lifted his hand from the bowl and turned to the bed.

"Hear us this night, oh holy mother," the man said in English, "I am the messenger, the bringer of destiny. I come to summon your return."

As he spoke, he used the blood of his left hand to draw a circle on the woman's stomach. Inside the circle, he began to form other archaic symbols.

"Baphomet," The man said, his eyes ablaze with an otherworldly fire, "I am opening the gate for your descent. This child is your vessel, your body, your incubator," he finished the blood-drawn pattern with three smaller circles placed in a triangle formation. "Enter, oh mother!"

The woman screamed in pain as thunder crashed outside the windows. The other men were tense and anxious as they witnessed the woman twist violently back and forth. She grabbed the white sheets, that had become soaked in sweat, and screamed again. Her eyes bulged from her head and the veins of her neck pounded under her skin. The blood-drawn pattern suddenly began to burn into her stomach, inducing still more screaming. As the blood disappeared, leaving a smoking scar, the woman's head started to shake uncontrollably. It was an unnatural convulsion, frightening and demented.

Suddenly, the woman yelled, "Yes!" and laughed hysterically. "Baphomet! Yes! Come inside of me! Yes!"

Then she began to moan, the sound of a woman about to go into labor.

The bald man turned to the others, his face still red with anticipation, "Doctor, get ready."

"I know," said one of the men, slipping his hands into a pair of latex gloves. His dark, slicked-back hair gleamed in the candlelight as he got into position at the end of the bed. Wiping the sweat from his clean-shaven face he tied a surgical mask around his mouth. After he was sure that his gold wrist-watch was securely tightened, away from his work, he looked toward the tool tray.

"Jimmy," he said, "hand me the forceps."

The bald-headed man complied, taking a long pair of tongs from the table. When the doctor tried to take the forceps from the other, Jimmy held tight and looked into the doctor's eyes. "Careful," he warned him, "that is your god you are delivering."

The doctor met his gaze, but said nothing. Then he took the tool and made the preparations for the procedure.

It wasn't long before the woman had become completely dilated. In between cries of pain she laughed wickedly as if she were enjoying every moment of the raw emotion.

"Come into this world!" She cried. Straining intensely, she started to push.

"It's on it's way," the doctor stated, slipping the forceps around the baby's head. Slowly, it protruded from the woman's body, still covered in a thick mucus. After a few more pushes, the baby was out; a healthy baby girl. The doctor worked quickly to clear the mucus from it's mouth and nose.

One of the other men suddenly spoke up. "That just look's like an ordinary child, how could that be-"

"Silence, Leonard!" Jimmy roared from the other side of the bed. "Have you no faith?"

Leonard was about to respond but then decided against it, wiping his gray beard with the back of his hand. He brought his eyes back to the child.

The doctor called out a few different tools as he cleaned the baby, including a pair of scissors to cut the umbilical cord. He swiftly severed the connecting flesh, being sure to clamp the loose ends. The child was now a part of this world.

Panting heavily, the woman's eyes appeared glazed. She gave another weak laugh and said, "quickly now, finish the rite!"

At this point, the child was wailing loudly. She cried even harder when Jimmy lifted her into the air and carried her over to the stone fireplace, which had been burning silently in the corner of the room. In front of the fire, there was the familiar circular symbol drawn out on the floor. It was covered slightly by a piece of white cloth. Jimmy gently placed the child on the cloth, again speaking in old Hebrew. His words were firm and powerful, full of fervent passion. He then placed his hand in the silver bowl, drawing more blood from it's basin. As he spoke, he let the blood drip over the baby's body, at which the baby ceased it's crying. It twitched a little before finally becoming still.

Jimmy used his thumb and smeared the blood across it's eyes. "Sleep," he said, "and grow."

The others watched from the bed. Kneeling close to the woman, and in a low voice, the doctor said, "Dahlia, will this really work?"

She smiled, her pale skin stretched tightly over the bony features. "Everything is going according to plan. It has all been foretold." She paused for a moment, then added, "do not fear... that which has been promised will come to pass. The position at the hospital will soon be yours, my dear Doctor Kauffman."

"What about the child?"

"Leave that to me- she will lead us to paradise..."