Author's note: Happy Little Shop Day and Birthday Seymour 9-23-18
Chapter Eleven:
On the 23rd day of the month of September in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to it's very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced, as such enemies often do, in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places...
September 23 1940
The home looked different in the moonlight. It gave off a haunted feeling, though it may just have been the cool autumn night. The home was backlit by the moon casting haunting shadows across the yard. Alana curled her fingers along the chainlink and pushed the gate open with as much effort as she could. It screeched open and, thankfully, wasn't locked. She took one step in, then another, then she felt it again. With both hands she grabbed her belly trying her best not to topple over.
"Help!" she screeched as loud as she could.
The night remained still as she heard her echo. Nothing moved for several long moments until up high she saw a flash. One of the topmost windows illuminated and a silhouette of a person appeared, only to quickly vanish.
Alana got on her hands and knees. The world was spinning. She felt stupid for not treating her head before leaving. A drop ran from her hairline down her temple and nose until finally pooling at her lip. She heard it again.
"Feed me!"
"Help!" she whimpered, though not much above a whisper.
"Dear me!" a woman cried swinging open the front door and running out into the night. Another woman behind her lit the front light before following. The first was at Alana in a moment and squatted down to her level. Gingerly she placed her hand on her shoulder as if to ask if she was alright. Slowly Alana raised her head and the woman gasped at the sight of her mangled face.
"Oh my dear!" she cried. She grabbed Alana's arm and pulled her onto her knees. "Your face dear! Quick, come inside!"
The other woman was at her side and grabbed Alana's hand. She immediately yanked away and placed it on her belly, which until now had gone unnoticed by them.
"No no no," Alana cried trying her best not to topple over again.
The shorter of the two gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. "What do we do?" she asked lowering her hands to her heart.
"Bring her inside," barked the other pulling Alana to her feet. She felt faint and tottled slightly on her feet.
"Stanley!" she breathed, "I need… Stanley!"
"ALANA?!"
Her eyes fluttered before opening. The room was so bright and it took a moment to adjust. Above her she saw a water stained white ceiling with crown molding and walls the color of clam chowder. Craning her neck she realized she was surrounded. Though one face she recognized and she reached out.
"Stanley," she breathed. He swiftly moved across the room and grabbed her hands. A small smile spread on her lips.
Looking around Alana saw four other people. There were the two women from outside, one with grey hair one with white hair. There was another woman with dark hair and a pressed white jumper over a dark blue blouse. A nurse no doubt. She was just to her left blotting her forehead. There was also a well dressed man she presumed to be a doctor. The dark haired nurse was just finishing taping up the gash in her head and turned away with the soiled gauze. Blood. Alana didn't realize there had been so much blood.
"Feed me!"
She brought her hand up to her bandaged wound and squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to stop.
Opening her eyes she saw the blurry figure of the doctor move toward her. Her vision was still fuzzy. His mouth was moving as if he was saying something to her but she wasn't catching it. She shook her head as little as possible and twitched the corner of her mouth to indicate confusion. He frowned and moved to the foot of her bed. He lifted her skirt just enough to place his hands on her abdomen. Her skin was hot to the touch. He furrowed his brow and kept his hand in the same place before looking back up at her with a somewhat hopeful look.
"No… no… it can't. I'm only 34 weeks."
His expression fell and his eyes moved back down at her abdomen.
"Stanley whats wrong? Is he okay?" she gasped looking around for Stanley.
"Shhhh," Stanley said patting her shoulder, "It's fine, everything's fine," he lied.
Overcome with sudden pain, Alana let out a scream. The doctor swore and motioned for the dark haired nurse, who came over running. Alana's head fell limp against her neck and she fell backward onto a rough pillow.
"Alana?"
She squeezed her eyes shut as her chest heaved up and down with her heavy breathing. Eyes still shut she heard their voices, but as if they were far away.
"Alana stay with us!"
"Breathe dear, just breathe."
"Maybe we should get her some water?"
"Jesus Christ! Who did this to her?"
Alana felt a cool rag being placed on her forehead and gasped awake. The white haired woman jumped back dropping the rag on the floor with a splat. She bent down to pick it up, and dusted it off on her skirt before blotting Alana's face. Alana tried to read her expression. It was clear she was trying to seem warm and friendly but fear was in her eyes.
"B…baby…" Alana breathed.
"Shhhhh. It's fine dear. Everything is going fine."
Alana moved her gaze to the doctor at the foot of her bed. She couldn't see what he was doing but he wasn't hiding his fear as well.
Is my baby going to die?
Both the doctor and the dark haired nurse looked up at her startled, and she realized she must've said that out loud.
"No no no!" The nurse exclaimed, waving her hand and forging a smile, "Everything's fine!"
She wasn't convinced. A tear welled in her eye as she screamed out in pain at another contraction. She knew well they were lying to her by the panic that filled the room with every scream and every grunt.
"Stupid woman! Christ what a freakin scatterbrain!"
He was in her head, so loud she brought her hands to her ears.
"Everything is your fault!"
"My fault! My fault!" she cried.
The room was startled by this sudden outburst. It was Stanley who finally said something. He knelt down beside her. Leaning in close he brought his hand to her cheek. Very gingerly he touched her, careful and almost afraid of inflicting more damage.
"Alana, Alana just breathe alright? You're fine."
She closed her eyes and gripped his hand on her cheek tightly.
"I've done terrible things!"
Stanley turned his head and looked at the doctor. He didn't seem concerned with her delirious rambling and stayed fixed on dealing with her contractions, now coming closer and closer together.
"What'a ya mean?" Stanley asked, leaning in more.
She opened her eyes and her lip quivered but she otherwise said nothing.
"Alana what happened to you?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and began to cry again. Her crying quickly changed back to screaming. She kept her eyes closed but heard the doctor swearing.
"Alana… did he do this to you?"
"He found out!" She cried.
The doctor leaned back closed his eyes. He ran his thumb and index finger over his lids. Startled by his hopeless expression she looked back at Stanley.
"He found out," she repeated.
Weakly, the doctor motioned Stanley and the dark haired nurse over to the far end of the room out of earshot. Alana craned her neck and tried to read his lips. Something he said made Stanley's face fall into a look of despair. The dark haired nurse grabbed her heart and glanced back at her briefly.
What is it?
Stanley asked something but the doctor just shook his head. He leaned in close to the dark haired nurse and she shot a glance at Alana before exiting the room. She returned a moment later with a thick sheet of paper.
"Alana, is it?" she asked moving to her bedside and forcing a false warm smile on her face.
Alana's eyes remained half open as she nodded ever so slightly.
"Alana I want to ask you some questions if that's alright."
As she spoke Alana was being poked and prodded.
"What's your last name, dear?" she asked.
She grunted in pain before replying, "Krelborn."
The woman was scribbling on the sheet of paper.
"K-r-e-l-b-o-r-n?" she asked not glancing up from the paper.
She nodded.
"And how old are you?"
She had to think for a moment, "T… twenty."
The nurse gave a sad look before she wrote it down.
"What's the father's name?"
"What?"
"Your baby, what's the father's name?"
Alana's eyes darted around the room before landing on Stanley's face.
"No!" she screeched.
"Alana please, this is important," he sighed moving closer to her.
Alana began hyperventilating and let out a great cry. The doctor was moving quickly at the foot of her bed.
"Alana… please…." Stanley said moving his hand to her shoulder.
Tears had begun spilling down her cheeks. As much as it pained her she obliged.
"It's Erik!" she exclaimed, though her voice so faint it was barely above a whisper.
"Erik Scrivello," she slurred moving her face to the nurse.
"Did you catch that?" Stanley asked the nurse with a questioning look. She shrugged and sighed in response as her pen continued to scribble.
"And what's your baby's name?"
"What?" she asked, finding her voice at last.
She ran her hand over her abdomen. Her baby wasn't even out yet. Why on earth would they be asking these questions now? Suddenly she realized they knew something she didn't. She probably wasn't going to make it, or at least one of them wouldn't.
"No! No!" She shouted turning her head back to Stanley, "Not yet!"
Stanley glanced at the nurse who sighed sadly before retreating with the paper.
Overcome with a range of emotion Alana's mind drifted toward that child. That awful child she had met yesterday, with his greasy black hair and leather jacket, burning the ants. Her own child's brother. If she were to not make it, would that be their future? And if Erik ever found out she had lived just long enough...
If it was true that only one of them would make it, she knew exactly which one she wanted it to be.
"Stanley," Alana whispered gripping his hand hard on her shoulder. "You can't let him hurt them."
"What?"
She turned her head to her abdomen and ran her hand over it smiling very weakly. So much love was in her eyes. Stanley's eyes traced her hand before moving back to her face where he saw violet bruises along her neck in the placement of fingerprints. He stared at her with a face full of defeat. Ever so slightly he nodded and pat her shoulder before leaving. She didn't want him to go. She felt his touch being quickly replaced by another hand. She closed her eyes and rolled her neck before glancing up, where she met a face she hadn't seen in quite some time. A middle aged man with bright blue eyes behind a pair of round spectacles and a mess of brown curls, like her own.
Dad? She thought.
He smiled.
About the room people were shouting orders at each other. Every once in a while they would shout something at Alana who would grunt or scream out in pain in response. All the while she kept her eyes fixed on her father's face, unconscious of the passing time. Suddenly it became unbearable. Screaming out in pain a haze began to cloud her vision.
Oh why dad? Why couldn't I have been a better mother?
Her father didn't respond, but continued to smile down at her.
"Here it comes!" she heard someone shout.
Will they be alright, dad? Will my baby be alright?
Her father, still smiling, gave the slightest of nods before the sounds of a baby's cry filled the room. It was so faint she was sure it was only in her head. However, it was followed by gasps and sighs of reliefs from all the others.
"It's a boy!" she heard one of the women shout.
A boy! Dad, I have a son!
Her father beamed with pride. She knew exactly what to name her child, after a great man and even better father.
"S… Seymour," she breathed, "Seymour Krelborn."
Her father smiled and extended his hands out to her as the room suddenly grew much brighter.
"Alana?!"
Stanley was snapping his fingers in front of her face in an attempt to get her to flinch as the light faded from her eyes.
All the attention that had been given to the baby now turned back to her as they bustled about in an attempt to help, but it was all for not. Her heart had stopped forever.
"Ah Christ," stated the doctor dropping her wrist. A sad look spread across his face.
"And you knew her?" one of the women asked Stanley.
"Sort of," his eyes didn't leave Alana's face, now drained of life, "She… she used to work at The Gutter."
"Oh the poor dear," replied one of the women leaning over to brush Alana's hair out of her eyes.
All the while the infant cried. Had he known what had happened he would've cried harder. One of the women had him wrapped in a dirty blanket and was bouncing him slightly shushing him.
"Same old story," Stanley sighed to himself, lifting her left hand, "no ring."
In doing so he discovered the pink carnation still clutched in her palm, and pulled it out to examine it.
The doctor crossed the room and retrieved the document that had earlier been scribbled on.
"Well, should we find this Erik? Give him his son?"
Stanley glanced at Alana's mangled face, "Don't bother. If he's who I suspect then he's better off staying here." He watched as the nurse leaned over and pulled the sheet over her head. "Trust me."
The room fell silent for a moment. Even the baby's crying had ceased as he continued to bounce. Voices in hushed whispers surrounded him.
"Well should we find out if she had any family?"
"A women who works at 'The Gutter' wouldn't have a family."
"Regardless."
"Poor girl, she was such a pretty young thing."
"What do we do?"
"Keep him here."
"He's so small, do you think he'll even live?"
"Who knows?"
"We need to find somewhere for him to sleep for tonight."
"I'm sure we'll find room somewhere."
"Ellen."
The elderly women moved her gaze from the baby's face to Stanley's.
"Take him upstairs for now. We'll figure the rest out later."
She nodded before turning around. After taking a step she pivoted on her heel back around.
"What was it she called him?" she asked.
Stanley fumbled with the carnation with his fingers before handing it over to her.
"Seymour Krelborn."
Ellen received the flower and tucked it in the blanket with the child who almost seemed to grab it.
"Welcome to the world Seymour."
