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Wanting To Be Loved
by B.P.Smythe
Derek had been driving all night; he crested the hill and swerved violently to avoid hitting the woman caught in the glare of his headlights. He skidded to a halt. She ran up to the car and got in. It was his laboratory assistant, Lucrezia. Nothing was said as the car carried on again. They knew they had to finish the job tonight. A remote field far out in the country had been selected.
At nearly two feet deep, Dr Derek Palmer’s foot rested on the shovel. He motioned his assistant to stop. Their panting began to slow down.
They laboured their way to the car boot. Wrestling with the huge bundle he cursed his mistake…his folly…years of research wasted. It had come to this. He’d been warned but refused to listen.
Now they were pulling the legs, the arms trailing out behind as if being prepared for the last crucifixion.
Thwump!! It lay face up in its last resting place. The eyes reflected off the headlights, glassy and staring. A discarded doll at the bottom of a toy box. It had once been somebody’s favourite. Now replaced...up-graded by new research…new grants.
At the boot again. Their legs buckled under the one-hundred-weight bag. Staggering, stumbling cursing, they reached the side of the pit, then tossed the parcel on the high piled mud. The spade came down with a slash! cutting the bag of builders lime. The doctor scooped out shovels-full, carefully, gingerly, spreading the grey dust.
It was already beginning to work. The fine drizzle of rain reacting with the powder. Bubbles forming on the face. The creatures mouth open with its last fixed grin.
Back in with the mud now. Must hurry.
Finally they patted down the mound and rested. Suddenly a thunder clash rattled overhead, illuminating his work, flickering for a second like a faulty neon sign.
Now back to the car. Ignition on. The motor turned over.
Rurr-rurr…rurr…rurrr…rurrr.
It wasn’t going to fire. He tried again.
Rurr-rurr…rurr…rurrr….rurrr.
“Shit!” he whispered. “Come on, you mother.” The damp? The drizzle? Headlights on all this time? Thoughts swam through his mind.
His assistant crossed her fingers. Heavy rain lashed the windscreen. His hand reached for the ignition key.
The explosion was immense. Both covered their faces in reflex as fork lightning zig-zagged into the mound, the final resting place of his creation.
As if on cue, reminiscent of an old horror movie, it opened its eyes for the first time. At that precise moment the headlights dimmed. It was draining the juice. It wanted birth…knowing something else must die…pay for it.
It twitched into life. Moving its arms only to find them smothered…trapped. The implanted brain awakened by the deafening thunder. The Monster trying to free itself. Whining and moaning. Pushing itself upwards, until, a fist punched through the earth.
On its feet now, swaying, unsteady, with mud falling off it. The lime on the body still hissing, silhouetted by steam. Its face lit up with bright lightning, momentarily flickering, showing the crude surgical joins.
The rain sheeted against the car. The doctor tried the ignition again.
The noise jerked its head. It began to moan with anger when it saw its master. Stiff, disjointed, it began to come nearer. Heavy footed plods. One lead boot in front of the other. Moaning to itself. Hungry. Arms outstretched. Wanting its first touch…to caress…to squeeze… to choke.
Moving to the car, the fingers flexed for the first time since birth. Like worms sprouting from stitched on hands…hooking its fingers into claws. Coming nearer and nearer.
The doctor and his assistant now trying to get out. Frantic…panicking. Pushing the doors with their shoulders. A central locking and electric windows malfunction? The beast grinned at them through the windscreen. It stood in front silhouetted by the lightning.
They sat back, beginning to accept their fate. Now quiet, motionless. Their faces like tortured masks. Mouths open like a couple of dead carp. The doctor’s white knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel.
It lunged at them both. The windscreen glass disintegrating amongst high-pitched screams. The car rocked violently, back and forth. Then, silence. Only broken by satisfied grunts.
It held the two decapitations and tenderly kissed them both on the lips. Then the heads were tossed away.
It looked up into the early morning sky, to the lights of a distant town. It began to walk in that direction. Plodding, heavy footed, while hoping, craving, yearning – wanting to be loved.
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