Chapter 71: Underworld discipline

Screwtape wore his distant, cold, official business face. It was the face his overlings feared most. He sat in his throne chair at the end of the impossibly long table. His unfortunate overlings sat in ascending order of importance, transfixed in fear.
   "I called you here, gentlemen, because we have issues to discuss," Screwtape said calmly. "Project Sugarloaf, a project you are all duty-bound to devote your best efforts to, is not going well." Screwtape paused to let his words sink in. His demons squirmed uncomfortably in their chairs. "In addition, monthly quotas are falling far -- FAR -- behind." Screwtape's iron mask dared his overlings to object, to offer excuses. None dared. "The gaming industry is not producing expected results. Divorce, alcoholism, addictions, domestic, child abuse -- all stagnant. In short, there is little progress on ANY front. I wish...I wish there was someone to blame," Screwtape sighed. "-- But all seem uniformly incompetent." Screwtape's deputies were puzzled. They didn't know if they should be relieved that their master had no one to blame. Screwtape gnashed his teeth. He wished those incompetents, Glubwart and Snakefoot, were at the meeting.
    Screwtape stood up. He raised himself to his full height, towering over them all. He slowly looked left, then right. His overlings all held their collective breath. Without a word or warning, Screwtape opened his maw. A sheet of flame gushed out, devouring all the demons and furniture on his left. When the smoke subsided, Screwtape resumed his seat.
   "I hope -- and EXPECT, that you will all try harder," he said quietly. "Don't disappoint me, gentlemen. This meeting is adjourned."

Chapter 70: Issue of trust

"Why did you do it?" Mary asked for the hundredth time. "How did you do it? What happened to you? Why did you leave? Why did you come back?"
   Joe just looked at her with a tired expression.
   "Why do you tie yourself down with me and Joey and Jerry? Why give up everything -- your parents -- your future?"
   Joe sighed. "I had to -- allright?"
   "That doesn't make sense. Why did you have to? You have no responsibility for me -- for us."
   Joe sat silent for a long time. It was time. They had to talk. "I can't explain it. You would think I'm crazy. I had to. That's all."
   "You don't have to stay. You can go back."
   "I can't. I don't want to."
   "Go back to your blonde with the big tits."
   "I told you. It's over. It never...I mean...Even when...I just felt empty, you know. With you I felt full. I wanted to fill you up."
   "I know. You wanted to knock me up."
   "That's not what I meant. I mean, sure -- I wanted to do it with you. I'm a guy. I can't help it. But that wasn't all, I swear it. I wanted something lasting with you. I wanted -- still want -- to protect you, care for you. Believe me."
   Mary sighed. "I want to. I want to believe you -- more than I have ever wanted anything. Anything. -- But I can't!" Mary let out a sound that was half sob, half scream. She burst into a flood of tears.

Chapter 69: Bringing up twins; vision

It had been six months already, but Mary still struggled to make sense of it all: How Joe had miraculously appeared after she had almost forgotten him; forgotten to care, forgotten to hope. How he had arrived at the last possible second to save them. She plied him with questions, but he avoided giving details. He always managed to change the subject.
   Mary and Joe lived under a non-declared sexual truce. Each had their own, too-well known histories. They survived on food stamps and a string of part-time jobs; anything Joe could find. By mutual agreement, Mary stayed home with her babies. Day care was too expensive; even if Mary could have found a job, it would scarcely pay. And the twins needed special care after their near-death experience.
   The twins, Joey and Jerry, recovered from their ordeal faster than Mary. They seemed to be unburdened by memories of their narrow escape from death. They were already developing starkly different personalities. One was a typical infant: grabbing, demanding, insatiable; screaming if he did not get his way immediately. The other was peaceful, giving, generous; always smiling and laughing. Mary loved them both with a kind of wild desperation.
   When Jerry grabbed a toy away from Joey, Joey just smiled and picked up another toy. When Jerry hit Joey in the face, Joey laughed. At feeding time, Jerry screamed to be satisfied first; Joey patiently waited. When Mary tried to suckle both at the same time, Jerry screamed and kicked Joey. Mary tried to be firm, but in the end Jerry got his way. Mary was too tired to fight him. And Joey didn't seem to mind. Changing two sets of diapers on four squirming legs and four flailing arms was a like a military campaign. Bath time was an adventure all its own.
   Joey often awoke with bruises on his face and arms. Jerry frequently jolted his mother out of bed screaming to be fed, or just screaming for no apparent reason. Joey slept peacefully and soundly.
   Not for the first time, Mary thought about separating the twins. "You can see they don't get along," Joe agreed. "Jerry might really hurt Joey one day."
   But discussions with the doctor were not encouraging. The twins shared a liver, he said. Although more complicated cases had been separated successfully, Mary had to be aware that the odds were less than 50 percent.
   It was the worst dilemma she had faced in her young life. It was as if a gaping hole had opened at her feet. She stared into the vast depth, teetering dizzily on the edge. Her mind raced like a gerbil in a squirrel cage. One minute she was seeing the twins successfully separated, the next she was seeing them lying in a small casket.
   If the operation was a success, what then? Would the injured twin be jealous of the unharmed one? She could not sleep. She tossed and turned, her mind unable to find rest. She got out of bed and paced until she was exhausted. She sat down and watched television, not paying attention to what she was watching. The flickering light became mesmerizing. Her eyelids were leaden. She wanted so badly to sleep, but she could not.
   She felt a touch on her right shoulder and jumped. "Don't scare me like that!" She yelled at Joe. She turned to look, but the tall, broad-shouldered, middle-age man in a worn work jacket and faded blue jeans standing at her shoulder was not Joe. Mary was terrified. "Who -- how did you get in here?"
   "I'm sorry, honey," the man said. "I just couldn't stay. Your mom and I -- well we just couldn't...didn't. I just wanted to say...don't make the mistake I did. Keep your family together. Don't let anything pull you apart."
   "D-dad?" Mary asked, incredulous. The man said nothing more. He smiled wistfully, and then he wasn't there anymore.

Chapter 68: Trouble in hell

Things were not going well for the underworld. Project Sugarloaf had hit a plateau. After initial success, the level of addiction leveled off. Both of Screwtape's lieutenants had lost track of the troublemaking teen and her brat. None of them knew at first that Mary had given birth to twins. That complicated the matter. Conjoined twins -- very rare -- what could it mean? The Enemy was involved somehow. Screwtape was scared. And when he was scared, he was especially dangerous. Screwtape was on the verge of coming unhinged. He screamed and ranted and threatened. Snakefoot caught the heaviest dose of Screwtape's wrath, since he had been living with the wench when she disappeared. "Unbelievable!" Screwtape howled. "Right from under your nose! You! The slyest devil in the universe! Outwitted by an illiterate teen! You were supposed to monitor her every move! You can't find a pair of conjoined twins? Not exactly a needle in a haystack!"
   For once, Snakefoot had no sarcastic comeback. His arsenal of excuses was depleted. He had let Mary go to the abortionist alone, because he wanted her isolation, her desolation to be complete. How could he know that she would simply disappear? Of course the birth made a news splash. And of course the hospital would not give out any information.

   The news media, astonishingly, was behaving ethically. They didn't intrude on the family's privacy. They seemed completely uninterested in the story. "I don't know where they are, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you," a snippy reporter told Snakefoot. The slut and her whelps had simply vanished. Snakefoot's assistant overlings were clueless. The Enemy had wrapped her in a protective cloud; he was sure of it. That was the only possible explanation why he couldn't track her. But it was useless to mention it. Screwtape was not in the mood to listen to excuses. He was resolved to his fate. He expected his summons to come at any moment.
   Glubwart's situation was only slightly more tolerable. Screwtape's ringer, that damned nuisance, Snakefoot, had intruded in an ongoing operation and upset weeks of planning. Glubwart was the injured party. Still -- and this was a point Screwtape never failed to make -- Glubwart was the low-ranking officer in the field. Ultimately, the responsibility rested with him. All of his underworld contacts, all of his tricks had proven inadequate. The wretch had simply vanished. Glubwart smelled the heavy hand of the Enemy. He had smelled and felt it before -- murderous cutthroats slipping out of his grasp at the last second in genuine deathbed conversions; tortured souls suddenly glimpsing a ray of truth through the fog so carefully and painstakingly created by Glubwart. Glubwart spat in disgust.

Chapter 67: Emergency room

Joe raced to the emergency room, attracting the attention of two police cruisers. With flashing lights, they followed Joe to the emergency door. The sight of Mary stopped them from asking any unnecessary questions. They helped Joe bring her into the emergency room admitting.
   "Dear God in Heaven," moaned the nurse. She was a professional, accustomed to dealing with emergency room accidents, but the sight of Mary's mutilated baby was too much. Mary was still unconscious, but stable. The doctor shook his head. After looking at the x-ray, he said, "Butchery. It would be more merciful to let them go." But Joe was adamant. "You've got to save them!" he pleaded.
   "What kind of life could they have?" the doctor asked. "One is badly burned. He'll be disfigured for life. Permanently attached to his brother. Do you know what it would cost to take care of them?"
   "You're a doctor. You have to protect life."
   "But your...she went to an abortionist."
   "I...we changed our minds."
   "We must get her consent."
   After an agonizing hour, Mary awoke from anesthesia. When the doctor was sure she could think clearly, he carefully explained the situation to her. He made sure Joe was not in the room. "We're not even sure they can survive," he admonished.
  Mary was devastated. The horror of her nightmare had come terribly true. She had given birth to a monster. Nevertheless, she did not hesitate. "Yes, oh yes!" Mary cried. "I want them. I tried to tell the other doctor, but he wouldn't listen! But how...where am I?"
   "A young man brought you in. He said he was a friend."
   "Joe!" Mary exclaimed.
   "Yes, I believe that is the name he gave," the doctor said with a wry smile. "And you would be Mary, I presume."
   "How did you know?" Mary asked.
   The doctor sighed.

Chapter 66: Intervention

"I'll do it," Mary said simply. Brother Sebastian/Snakefoot nodded. In the days that followed, Mary's emotions were on a roller coaster. Relieved, that the decision was made. Agony -- was it the right decision? Fear. Fear. What would it be like? Would there be pain? Brother Sebastian wasn't interested in her internal misery. He was growing more demanding. "What's for dinner?" he barked when she tried to talk to him about her thoughts. Mary had slowly taken over the functions of a wife, although there was no clear understanding between them.
----
   Glubwart was fuming. He was desperate. He was scared. He had been using all his powers to find them after Snakefoot and Mary disappeared. Glubwart knew Screwtape was behind it. Screwtape could say Glubwart muffed an opportunity to turn the girl; had let her slip through his fingers, and Screwtape had to salvage the situation by sending in his pinch-hitter. Screwtape would make it look good to the Boss; take all the credit; Glubwart would wind up on the menu. All of Glubwart's devices had proven ineffective. Screwtape must be using cloaking demons to deflect Glubwart's search.
   The phone rang. It was Screwtape, of course. "Yes, Mr. Screwtape?" Glubwart offered into the receiver.
   "How's it going, Glubwart?" Screwtape asked.
   "No problem, sir. Situation's in hand."
   "Are you sure? Can't afford to let this one slip away too." It was maddening. Screwtape was baiting him.
   "I'm on it."
   After an interminable interrogation, Screwtape finally let his victim squirm away.
---
   Mary was dreading. "What will happen to me? I want to meet my baby! What will happen to her? Him? What am I doing? Is there a God? What does He want? Why won't anybody tell me? Why don't I know anything? Why did my mother...? Who is my father...? Who is the father of my baby? My body...my right. Her body? Her right? I'm here. I'm older. My choice."
   It seemed like an interminable wait. But when it came, it seemed impossibly soon. Mary felt like a condemned criminal walking to her death. Everything was swimming. She felt faint; light-headed; nauseous. She seemed to be in a dream -- no -- a nightmare. Then again she felt as if she were playing a part in a movie. Her feet were moving by themselves. She was being drawn inexorably toward a dingy low building. The sight of the gray building terrified her. The smiling face of the nurse did not ease Mary's fear. The face of the doctor loomed over her. She could not make out distinguishing features. It was as if he had no face at all; just a hideous whiteness. He took her arm.
   Suddenly Mary knew. It had to stop. She twisted out of his grasp. "No!" She screamed. Out of her vision, the doctor nodded to the nurse, who grabbed Mary from behind. The doctor ripped off Mary's clothes and threw her onto the operating table. "This is the same treatment I would give my own daughter," the doctor yelled at Mary. The nurse strapped her down and injected a powerful anesthetic into Mary's arm. Mary had time to scream once more before she lost consciousness.
   [Mary was staggering down a long, black corridor. The walls were close and wet. Something was sucking at her feet. Long, sharp claws slashed her sides and arms. Slimy strands brushed horribly against her face. Suddenly she was thrown down into the muck. She was unable to move. She screamed, but no sound came out. Her huge belly was a knot of unbearable pain. "Oh, Lord, just get me through this," she prayed. There was no end to the pain. It came in waves, each more excruciating than the last. She couldn't breathe. She felt as if she would pass out. Then she saw its face -- an evil, angular, tongue-licking face with fangs so close to her face. She screamed again, noiselessly. The snake's powerful body coiled around Mary, squeezing the life out of her. "Oh, God, save me!" she cried. Then came a horror worse than death. Finally, the agony reached a crescendo as the snake gave a crushing squeeze. Her body gave up its contents. She tried to pull at it, to see it, caress it. She struggled with tubes and arms and legs. Everything was bound up tightly. At last, Mary clutched her offspring to her -- and screamed. She was staring into the face of a monster.]
   Mary's babies were sucking their thumbs when the doctor injected a saline solution into the womb to poison them and burn off their skins. The babies reacted violently. They screamed in silence. The doctor picked up a pair of scissors to sever the spinal column of the first. "Hmmf. Two of them," he snorted. He raised the scissors, but never made the cut.
   The scissors were knocked out of his hand and he was shoved aside. Joe released the straps binding Mary and glared at the doctor. "No killing today," he said.
   Recovering from his astonishment, the doctor demanded, "Get out! You are contaminating the OR!"
   Joe refused to budge. "No killing today," he repeated.
   "This woman is under my care! Who are you? How did you get in here?" the doctor sputtered.
   "A friend," Joe said. "We're going now." He started to lift Mary off the table.
   "She is my patient! This is her wish! She came to me for treatment. Now get out!" the doctor yelled, his voice getting louder.
   "Then why did you have her tied down?" Joe asked. He glanced at the nurse, who looked at the floor. "I -- we changed our minds. We're leaving."
   "Out of the question," the doctor said. "They are ready to come out. It's too dangerous to move her."
   "They?" Joe asked in astonishment.
   "There are two of them -- twins."
   "Then deliver them," Joe said.
   "Impossible! The procedure has already begun! Get out! Nurse, show this young man out!"
   When the nurse hesitated, he added, "What are you waiting for? Show this young man out!" He turned to look at the nurse, and found himself staring down the barrel of the .32 caliber revolver Joe's father kept for intruders.
   "Deliver them," Joe repeated.
   "They're already dead!" the doctor shouted; but the look on his face said he wasn't sure. Joe jabbed the gun in the doctor's soft stomach. The doctor turned back to Mary. "My God!" he exclaimed. "Conjoined!"
   Joe couldn't process the information. "What do you mean?"
   "They're joined at the chest cavity. No chance."
   "There's got to be...otherwise, he wouldn't have sent me here."
   "Who sent you?" the "doctor" said, growing visibly nervous.
   "Never mind. Just do it."
   "I can't," the "doctor" said. "It's beyond my field of specialization." He saw the determined look in Joe's eyes. "You'll have to take her to the hospital."

Chapter 65: Decisions, decisions

They had been living together for several weeks. Brother Sebastian/Snakefoot had not laid a hand on her. She was surprised and relieved. Lately, however, she sensed his attitude toward her changing. He did not seem quite so ardent. His diminishing attention matched the swelling of her abdomen. Meetings at church took more and more of his time. Rare dinners together were glum and silent.
   "Is there something bothering you?" she finally asked.
   "Don't you think it's time you made a decision?
   Mary was taken aback by the question. The relative security she was enjoying caused her to think less about having an abortion. A non-decision was on the way toward becoming a decision.
   "I...I haven't thought much about it ... lately."
   "Well maybe you should."
   "What are you saying?"
   "Have you thought about what it means for my ministry? For us?"
   "I just assumed -- no, I guess I haven't."
   "I guess I haven't," Snakefoot snarled. "I think it's time you should."
-----
   Not for the first time in her life, Mary felt despair. She had lulled herself into a fantasy -- a fantasy that she could enjoy a more or less normal life -- a man, a baby, a home. Now she was being forced to face a harsh decision. No one to help her. No support. She felt groundless; tossed in the air; feet not touching firm earth. She vomited. "What to do? I don't know. Is it a baby? I don't know. A girl? A boy? Human?" Suddenly her thoughts reeled; recoiled; terrified. "They say it's a choice. Some say it's a sin. I don't know. I don't know. I DON'T KNOW!" Mary's thoughts went round and round like a gerbil in a cage. "I'll think about it later. No -- he wants me to decide now...Now." She vomited again. Her insides quivered and shrank. She was empty; drifting; floating...
   [Mary was drifting, floating. She was parched, dry, empty, hungry. She struggled to open her eyes. They were heavy as lead. It took all of her strength, all of her willpower to pry them open just a slit. She could not make out any shape. She sensed a rolling motion; to and fro. Finally she took her fingers and forced her lids open. She saw a vast nothing. Slowly her world came into vision. She was on the ocean. She felt roughness and saw that she was on a piece of wood being gently rocked by waves. She was hungry, thirsty, exhausted. She tried to sleep. Let me wake up and be safe be safe be safe. But she could not sleep. Suddenly her eyes saw something sinister; dark; circling. A dark triangle. Then another and another. Circling; threatening. They wanted something...something. Frantically, she looked around her raft, all alone in the middle of a heartless ocean. She groped and felt something soft. A peace offering. Something to sacrifice. She clutched at it. Without hesitation she threw it to the circling horde. There was a rush and hideous splashing and swirling. The dark shapes subsided. Mary was safe...]
   Mary woke up sobbing; sobbing so hard her inside ached. She vomited. She vomited again. Again. Again. She was empty, dry and still she vomited.

Chapter 64: Just another Mary?

Screwtape was pleased with himself. His campaign of terror had inspired his miserable overling demons to achievements he never really considered possible. Project Sugarloaf was bringing in more and more jewels like Stacey's and Stacey's mom's, as well as quite a few of Stacey's victims'. The fact that the Enemy had managed to snatch away some of Stacey's victims at the moments of their deaths was unfair, but then the Enemy never played fair. Screwtape had learned to take that in stride; comes with the territory.
   Never plays fair...all of a sudden, a terrible thought struck Screwtape. This Mary affair. Was the old Bully mocking him? There were millions of Marys. Was this one special? Was the Enemy teasing Screwtape, or could this be the final showdown? Another Mary...Screwtape shivered. Cold fear ran down his spine, chilled his hot, pumping arteries.
   He picked up the phone. "Miss Caliente, get me Snakefoot," he bleated.
   "Well?" Snakefoot asked.
   "What do you have for me?" Screwtape asked.
   "You worry too much. I've got her. She's mine. Like I said -- I never fail."
   "What about Glubwart?"
   "I predict he'll try to interfere. I can handle him."
   "What do you intend to do with the girl?"
   Snakefoot snorted. "The usual. What do you think? I'm not exactly new to this business, you know."
   "OK. OK. Just wanted a few details." Screwtape was back on his heels. He never allowed overlings such leeway, such disrespect.
   "The details will come later, chief," Snakefoot said. "But the overall picture is clear, isn't it?"
   "Just make sure," Screwtape said. "Can't afford to screw this one up."
   Snakefoot had to bite all three of his forked tongues to keep from retorting, "You mean 'don't Screwtape it up'?" Instead, he muffled his laughter and just said, "Got it."

Chapter 63: Lesson learned

Six-year-old Stacey McCormick crouched behind his bed, hoping his mother would come home. Fearing his mother would come home. Hoping, fearing. She might not come for days, he knew. That would mean hunger, cold. If she came, which mother would it be? Would it be the one who kissed him and tucked him in? Would it be the one who screamed at him and slapped him? Would it be the one who ignored him while watching TV? Would it be the one who passed out on the floor after smelling something funny and strong?
   Stacey was playing with his favorite toy, a six-inch doll he found in a forgotten corner of the closet. He enjoyed acting out scenes with his doll. His doll was the only friend he had. His mother did not let him go outside. He pretended the doll was his mother. She would take care of him, feed him, never hit him. He and the doll would travel to exotic, wonderful places far from the shabby neighborhood that was all Stacey knew.
   "What are you doing now, you little pervert?!" Stacey's mother roared. "Playing with dolls? What kind of a freak are you?" She snatched the doll out of his hand and threw it in the garbage. She yanked off Stacey's pants and whipped his behind with the nearest weapon, a coat hanger. "You should be ashamed! A boy playing with dolls!" Then Stacey's mother poured scalding water on Stacey's part that he should be ashamed of. "Now go play with yourself!" she screamed and locked him in the blackness of the closet.
---
   Thirty years later, Stacey was still six years old in his mind. In body, he was six-foot one and two hundred and fifty pounds. Now his dolls were naked. Now he made them feel ashamed. They were hanging from the ceiling, some upside down. All were bloody. Some were screaming. Some had ceased screaming.

Chapter 62: Temptation

Joe's sudden disappearance devastated Mary. One hope after another was kindled and extinguished in her life. Deserted again. No message, no phone call. This was too much. "I don't know, dear," Brother Holloway/Glubwart told her. "He just disappeared." Glubwart had Joe's car towed and hidden away. He was glad that the annoying boy was gone.
   Brother Sebastian/Snakefoot saw his chance. "This is not a place for a beautiful young girl like you," Snakefoot told her. "You are a special, wonderful, fascinating woman. Come with me. You can help me with my mission."
   "With you?" Mary said, wondering, gaping at the strikingly handsome, dark-haired man. "Why do you care about me?"
   Brother Sebastian/Snakefoot smiled broadly. "You have far too low an opinion of yourself, my dear. Don't you know you are lovely? I have been watching you these last few weeks. I have grown very attached to you. We're not Catholic, you know." Snakefoot moved closer, put his arm around her. "No vow of celibacy. I have needs and desires, just like any man."
   Mary was completely taken aback; unprepared for this. Millions of young women would kill for a catch like this handsome young preacher. Why was he interested in a plain, pregnant teen-ager?
   He kissed her gently. "Maybe you doubt me," he said, divining her thoughts. "Let me tell you; I won't deny it – many women seem attracted to me. I suppose it's my position of authority – in the pulpit. They seem drawn to me. I need someone who really needs me – not a religious groupie. I need someone I can trust. I need you."
   Mary's head was spinning. It was all happening too fast. Joe shows up unexpectedly – a miracle. Then he's gone again, just like that; no explanation, no goodbye. Can't depend on Joe; can't depend on anyone. Then a proposal from a tall handsome stranger. It was like a bad romantic comedy.
   She nodded her head. "I'll go with you," she said listlessly.

Chapter 61: Consultation

   Screwtape decided he needed to hedge his bets; keep Glubwart close to the vest. "Miss Caliente, please connect me with 'Brother Holloway.'"
   "Yes, Sir."
   A minute later, Glubwart was on the line. "Yes sir," he said politely.
   "On this girl affair -- what's her name? Mary?" Screwtape began, pretending to forget her name. "We need to be sure we're on the same page. Getting rid of the garbage is always an attractive option. The physical death is fine -- fewer of the human refuse for the Enemy to get his claws in. But on top of that, it is the psychological damage -- much nicer. It diminishes their human pride, their respect for each other and the whole dismal human thing. We want them to be concerned only with their own selfish needs and wants, not with anything greater -- certainly not anything outside their own limited human perspective."
   "Yes, of course," Glubwart answered. He sighed. It was demonology 101. "Of course, in the long run, having to feed an extra mouth would put increased pressure on the girl, maybe lead to more interesting prospects," Glubwart countered.
   "Let's play this one by the book," Screwtape said firmly. "No need to over-think this thing."
   "But you will admit this is a special case," Glubwart continued. "The Enemy seems particularly interested in this germ. It might need more finesse."
   Screwtape was genuinely impressed with the sophistication of Glubwart's argument. He was silent for a few moments, then uncharacteristically, he said, "You may have a point there, Glubwart. I'll leave it up to your best judgement." Screwtape hung up the phone.

Chapter 60: Intervention

   "Are you Joe Langston?" A rough hand grabbed Joe's shoulder. Joe had gone back to his car to pick up his things and find a place to park.
   "Yes, I'm Joe Langston."
   "Come with us, please. Your mother has been worried about you." The policeman stuffed Joe into the patrol car, despite Joe's protestations.