Fear: A Gone Novel

ankles, the soles of her feet, all ripped and torn. And the cuts from Drake’s whip were on her back, shoulders, the back of her thighs, her bottom.
    But she felt little of the pain now. That pain was something far away. Something that happened to a real person who was not her. Some shell she’d once inhabited, maybe, but not her, not this person, because this person, this Diana, felt something so much more awful.
    It was inside her.
    The baby. It was inside her and pushing and kicking.
    And it was growing. She felt her belly grow each time she reached to hold it. Bigger and bigger, like someone was filling a water balloon from a hose and didn’t have the sense to stop, didn’t know that it would burst if you just kept making it—
    A spasm went through her, seizing her insides, drawing on every ounce of her strength and concentrating it in that one spasm.
    Contraction.
    The word came to her from the depths of memory.
    Contraction.
    Was her stomach really growing? Was the impatience of the baby inside her real, or was it Penny playing some game with her reality?
    She felt the gaiaphage’s dark mind. She felt the fear that squeezed the air from her lungs. And more horrible still, she felt that evil mind’s eagerness. It strained to hurry her on. It reached for her from the depths. Like a little kid impatient for the ice cream. Give me, give me!
    But worse by far was the echo that came from the baby.
    The baby felt the force of the gaiaphage’s will. She knew it. It would be his.
    How long had she crawled like this? How many times had Drake grabbed her roughly with his whip hand and lowered her down some sheer drop to cling with torn fingernails to the rock wall?
    And blind. Always blind. A darkness so total it reached into her memory and blotted the sun from the pictures there.
    Then, at long last, a glow. At first it seemed like it must be a hallucination. She had accepted that light was gone forever, and now here was a faint, sickly glow.
    “Go!” Drake urged her. “It’s straight and level now. Go!”
    She stumbled forward. Her belly was impossibly big, the flesh stretched like a drum. And the next contraction now racked her, a vise inside her that tightened so hard it seemed it must break her very bones.
    It was hot and airless. She was bathed in sweat, her hair sticking to her neck.
    The glow brightened. It stuck to the floor and walls of the cave. It revealed the contours of rock, the stalagmites rising from the floor, the tumbled piles of broken stone like waterfalls rendered with a child’s blocks.
    And then, beneath her bare feet, the electric zap of the barrier, forcing her to climb for safety up onto pieces of the gaiaphage itself.
    She could feel the gaiaphage move under her, like stepping on a million ants all packed tight together; the cells of the monster seethed and vibrated.
    Drake cavorted across the chamber, snapping the air with his whip, shouting, “I did it! I did it! I brought you Diana! I, Drake Merwin, I did it! Whip Hand! Whip! Hand!”
    Justin. Where was he? Diana realized she hadn’t seen him in a long time.
    Where was he? She looked around, frantic, amazed to have eyes to see with. Her vision blurred green. No Justin.
    Penny caught the frantic look. Her face was grim. She, too, now realized they’d lost the little boy somewhere along the bloody miles leading them here.
    Penny, too, had not fared well. She was almost as battered, bruised, and bloodied as Diana. The trip down a jet-black tunnel had not been good to her. At some point she must have hit her head very hard, because a gash in her scalp bled down into one eye.
    But Penny had already lost interest in Justin. Now she looked with narrow, jealous eyes at Drake in all his joy. Drake was ignoring her. He hadn’t introduced her. Gaiaphage, meet Penny. Penny, gaiaphage. I know you two will get along .
    The image would have made Diana laugh if not for a contraction that forced her to her knees.
    It was in that position that Diana felt a sudden wetness. It was warm and ran down her inner thighs.
    “Impossible.” She wept.
    But she knew in her heart, and had known for some time, that this baby was no normal child. Already it was a three bar, an infant with powers not yet defined.
    The child of an evil father and a mother who had tried, had wanted to … had tried to … but somehow had failed.
    Repentance had not saved her. Burning tears had not been enough to wash away the stain.
    The water that had gushed from inside her