Why Kill a Baby?

Why? How?

"I remember you," Nipa pointed at Hla. "You came here, to this spot, to befriend me. I needed no friends. I wanted to be alone."

"Yes, you didn't welcome me, but we talked. I understood what happened to you. Few people give you a chance. I do," said Hla.

"What do you want?"

"Please tell the kids your story. They will join me in my quest."

"I can do better than that. I can read my story. I wanted the world to know. The story was never published. I kept it to myself."

She scrabbled inside her shirt, pulling out crumpled sheets of paper, the last treasure of her human life.

She looked into the eyes of each of her small audience. "This is how I remembered that time."

She began reading. Before long she dazed into space no longer needed the paper to remind her.

'A piercing scream cracked the bedroom mirror.

"Honey, what's wrong?" asked Billy, panting, as his fingers searched for his wife's hand.

Khmer expletives were yelled at him. None, he understood. Breathing too fast, the young expectant mother, I regained my composure. My chest lifted and fell gently in time with my oxygen intake.

"Where am I?" I asked as I looked around the bedroom.

"Babe, you are okay. We are at home, in bed, calm down. You are sweating. It must have been a nightmare," said the shaken young husband.

He flicked the bedside lamp on.

"Christ, it is blood. What happened?" he asked.

"I, I, I can't talk…" as I coughed up more blood.

"Keep still. What is that?" he asked, pointing to a cord hanging from the corner of my mouth. I coughed again, this time spewing streams of red. The cord remained as if stuck deep in my stomach. The visible end swung limply.

The pain caused me to bend double, head between my knees, made more difficult as the six-month-old lump was in the way.

"Let me look," Billy said as he touched the blood-soaked shoelace. Like a boy tugging a worm from its muddy home.

Gently pulling, releasing its deep grip, it slid painfully up and out of my throat. Another stream of vomit soaked my dear husband.

"Got it!" he called, examining the item as a stamp collector sees a Penny Black.

I rolled on my back and rubbed our unborn baby bump.

Billy held his prize to the light. "It looks like a ball of uncooked bacon rind, a huge one. What the hell have you been eating?"

At seven AM Billy left me to my troubled sleep in our Nong Bo Village, in northern Thailand. He went to check on our livestock. Clucking and grunts accompanied him. Passing the spiky bamboo fence surrounding our property, he wondered, "Why have we got such an ugly and useless fence?"

He quickened his pace to the chicken hut. Sensing something was wrong, he sprinted.

"Oh no," he wailed.

His prize cockerel gutted open, spread and pinned on the fence post. The beautiful comb had gone, along with the rest of the head.

"I loved that bird," he cried.

The usual pleasure of Billy's morning ritual, his early inspection of our farm, drinking a mug of Nescafe, relaxing before easing into the day's work, ruined. He often daydreamed about the night he met the love of his life. Three years before, he had fallen head over heels with a gorgeous and vivacious nightclub hostess; yes, I worked in a sordid club. We dated for the rest of his holiday, then he returned to England. We enjoyed a long-distance romance; he proposed to me via Skype; I left the club; we married at my father's farm. Billy bought a farm nearby. We settled and began our married life together. Then, I became pregnant. What could be better?

"How are you feeling?" Billy asked me, as I slumped next to him at the table, shattered. My coffee skin was milky. The night had drained me of all colour.

"Yeah, sleepy, at least baby slept well," I answered as I prepared rice soup for breakfast.

"Hold the breakfast. I think we should go to the doctor? We have an appointment, we don't want to be late." He was always worried about me and the baby.

"I need to eat. I am starving," I said, dipping sticky rice into last night's curry.

"Do you want to know the baby's sex yet?" Billy asked, excited to find out.

"It's a boy," I answered bluntly.

Billy, puzzled by my answer, decided not to question me further. That could wait. He also wanted to find out more about his and their neighbour's fences. That too could wait. My breakfast could not. He waited in front of his laptop.

"Come on, Wi-Fi, don't let me down," he said. Our connection was rarely reliable.

He checked Google.

"Krasue fears spikes as they get their entrails tangled! My God, now I've heard it all," he chuckled, not understanding how real the text may be.

Once more, he ducked the chance to query things.

"That can wait," he said to himself.

"Good morning, have you come for your check-up?" asked the doctor's receptionist.

"Yes, we need to ask him something else as well," I said.

"Your appointment's booked for a scan and consultation. Is that correct?"

"I know, but we need to see him about something else too, if possible?"

The receptionist showed them in.

"Hello, no problem with junior I trust?" said the doctor.

As we explained what had happened the night before, the doctor looked increasingly worried. Changing the subject, he stated, "The baby's heartbeat is strong, the scan is fine. You have nothing to worry about regarding the baby. I can see if it is a boy or girl. Do you want to see it?"

"It is a boy," I said.

"Yes, how are you so sure," he asked.

I just smiled.

Billy asked, "What about the blood last night?"

"I can't see where it came from. No cuts in her mouth or throat. Any stomach pain?"

"None, doc," I answered.

"I don't suppose you kept any of the blood, or the curious thread?" asked the doctor.

"No, we cleaned up and threw away the other thing," answered Billy.

"I'll run some tests, roll up your sleeve, please," the doctor said.

"Fantastic, a son," said Billy as they walked back to their truck.

"Yes," said I not smiling.

Billy studied my blank face, riveted straight ahead. He decided not to ask what was worrying me. We bumped along the track to our home.

"Hungry?" I asked him solemnly.

"What is the problem? I thought you would be happy, you haven't even phoned your dad to tell him."

"You couldn't understand." I stormed inside, leaving my husband to check the remaining chickens.

"Your lunch is on the table. I'm going for a nap," I called from the stairs.

Billy was used to the fiery, sometimes weird North-Eastern food, but I had never served him live maggots.

"What the hell is this?"

Insulted, he stormed up the stairs.

"Don't pretend you are asleep, you've only just got into bed," he said as he shook me.

My eyes opened wide, staring sightlessly. The baby bulge moved, rocking from side to side.

Shocked, he forgot his anger.

"What's the matter?" he yelled, placing the back of his hand on her forehead. "Christ, you are burning up."

He patted his pockets, "Where is it?" panicked he hunted for his phone.

"Did you enjoy your lunch?" I asked brightly.

My calmness stunned him for a minute before he could speak.

"Are you sure you are okay?" he asked again, feeling my temperature.

"Yeah, I'm fine. How long did I sleep? Better get on."

I leapt from the bed and sauntered downstairs.

"Oh, you haven't touched your 'larb'?"

Larb was one dish he loved.

"No, it was…" he looked over my shoulder at his lunch.

"I thought you like the way I prepare that dish?"

"I do, but it had… Never mind."

Not seeing any maggots, he played with the dish before pushing it to one side.

"The chicks were fine. I'll check on the pigs now," he said, hopping out the back door.

"You wanted to know about our fences?" I asked.

"Yes, true, but how did you know?"

"If you don't like them, rip them down," I said.

He sensed something was wrong. The pigs were unusually quiet. He quickened his pace. Speechless, as he approached the mess nailed to the gatepost, once a boar, now a blood coated carcass of rotten and stinking pork. Flies buzzed in a cloud. The prized father of dozens of piglets pinned on its back, slit from throat to the anus. The guts missing from the fetid bulk.

"Call the police. Somebody has killed Arsene, our boar!"

"Don't worry, dear, these things happen," I said, beaming.

That evening, eating on their patio, Billy decided the time was right to get some answers.

"You seem different. Have I upset you?" he asked.

"No dear, you are perfect."

"Is something wrong with the baby?"

"No, dear, everything is fine," I answered.

"Did you mean what you said about the fence?"

I turned glaring, red in the face, "Yes, get rid of the damn thing."

"Um, okay," he stammered.

Instantly my mood changed, "Would you like some mango?" I asked sweetly.

The next morning, Billy set about ripping down the ugly, pointless fence he hated, pointless, as it does no useful purpose, but not pointless, as it offers nothing but points. He chuckled to himself, losing concentration.

"Shit, shit, shit!" screamed Billy as thorns embedded in his thigh.

Limping back to the house, I hid my mouth as I beamed.

"Oh, darling, what has happened?" I asked.

"It is pretty obvious, isn't it?"

I sat him down, gently pulling the points from his leg.

"Steady, that hurts," wailed Billy.

I smiled, putting splinters aside. I sucked on the wound, loudly, like a child with her first lolly.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Billy.

Between slurps, I answered, "Traditional Thai healing," as I licked my lips.

A battered Honda motorcycle rumbled up to the house. An ageing man jumped off, fuming.

"Now, what are you doing? First, you marry a foreigner, now you're removing protection for the entire village. That fence keeps us save from Krasue," bellowed my ageing father in the Khmer language.

He threw his half-smoked roll-up cigarette to the ground. "Get it fixed!"

"What did your dad want?" asked Billy. "He didn't seem happy. Did you tell him it's a boy?"

"He was checking how the baby is and delighted the family has another male," I lied sweetly.

The sun dipped below the horizon. Billy limped as he lit a fire and burnt the fence remains with some dried leaves he had swept up. I took a mug of coffee out to him.

"Thanks, babe. Can you see the lights near our entrance?"

"Yes, it is my father and other villagers."

"How can you see them, I only see movement and dull lights?"

"I've been eating my carrots," I laughed.

"What do they want, why don't they come in?"

"I'll find out," I said as I started walking the long driveway.

Billy went back to his raking. A car's horn sounded as a vehicle turned into our entrance. It stopped near the fire but kept the engine running.

"Oh, it's you, doc. Any problem?" asked Billy.

"The villagers have been calling me, they want me to talk with you about your fence."

"Really?"

"Yes, they worry there is a Krasue nearby," said the doctor.

"A what? I thought that was a joke, just a local tale?"

"Where shall I start?" queried the doctor.

"Do you want to come in, have a drink?" asked Billy.

"Oh no, thanks. I won't be very long."

"Okay, tell me."

"There is a belief around these parts, not only here but also in Lao, Cambodia, throughout Thailand and down into Malaysia. Usually, but not always, a female spirit leaves her body and searches for another place to live. She or it, needs blood, rotting flesh or intestines to survive on," said the doctor, rushing his words.

"I read something on the web. You mean like a vampire?"

"But vampires are good looking." He snorted more confidently. "A Krasue is just head and entrails, it floats around farms and scrubland."

"You have to be joking? How can an intelligent man like yourself believe that tosh?" asked Billy.

"I didn't say I believe it, but all these folk do. They want you to replace the spiked fence. And soon."

"Is that what all the fuss is about? Okay, I can make another."

"Great, that's all I wanted to hear," the doctor stammered.

"Come in and have a beer, I'd love to find out more."

"No, no thanks, I must go."

The doctor dropped his phone as he clambered into his car. Driving away too fast, he clipped the hedge as he skidded past the villagers.

"I'll return his mobile tomorrow," Billy thought. "What was the rush?"

"Is your dad coming in?" Billy asked, as I returned.

"No, they all have a few bottles of home-brew waiting. Talking of which, do you want a cold one?"

"Yes, join me on the patio. Let's talk about baby names."

"Yeah, okay, do you have any ideas?"

"Not really. There are a couple of male names that keep cropping up in my family, but they are old-fashioned. Why not have a Thai name?"

"Why not have both?" I suggested.

I placed a second beer in front of him, smiling and cool.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I was talking to the doctor, and agreed to replace the fence."

I spilt the beer. No longer calm, I went to bed without a word.

Billy lifted the bottle and drained the remains. Sitting alone, he thought about his day, life, and the future.

Creeping up the stairs, he peered in at his sleeping wife. Sliding under the sheet next to me, he turned to his side. Sleep would not come. Tossing and twitching, he lay on his back, sweating. Moonlight illuminated the room.

He sensed a breath on his face.

Opening his eyes, he stammered, "What… How…"

I floated inches above him. Pointed teeth opened, "Shh…"

He fell to the floor, banging his head against a cupboard.

"Quiet, I'm trying to sleep," I said.

Billy sat up, rubbed his bruise, and looked around. Clambering back into bed suffered a fitful sleep.

Breakfast was quiet. Billy had questions he dare not ask. I was sluggish through lack of sleep.

The chicks and pigs were oddly quiet as he left the house.

"What? There are no eggs," said Billy to himself, as he went to the pigpen.

"Oh, no!"

They had nailed ten of our piglets to the wooden door. Slit like the boar, their entrails dragged in the mud.

He rushed to the kitchen. "Come quick."

"Are they male?" I asked.

"Are what male? Do you mean pigs? I didn't look. Why?"

I helped my husband cleaning up the small bodies and prepared them, ready to offer the meat to a local butcher.

"While we're in town, I want to see the doctor," said Billy as they delivered the package.

"He's busy all day," I said, bagging her phone.

"Really? I'll try tomorrow," he said.

"What's so urgent about seeing the doc?"

"Nothing much, something he said about our fence."

"Forget the fucking fence." I glared before turning around.

"It's unlike you to swear. What's wrong?" asked Billy.

"Nothing darling," I said sweetly. "Let's go home."

"I want to know who is killing our livestock. I need you to translate for me," said Billy.

"Why waste your, or should I say our time? No one will tell tales on their neighbours."

"I have got to try. I need to show them I mean business, otherwise we'll have no farm."

Grunting, I nodded, "Okay, let's go."

At the first farm, they reached, people scuttled inside the house, slamming doors and closing windows.

"It must be them, look they are so scared. They won't even talk to us," said Billy.

"Right, let's go home." I smiled.

"No, I'm going to the police."

The police station was a two-man hut constructed on the main road's junction. Pulling up, I stayed in my seat.

"Come on, I need you to help. I don't suppose they speak English, do you?" he said, temper rising.

Slowly, I walked to the sliding glass of the office. Two officers' feet up on the shared desk looked at us wide-eyed.

Billy opened his mouth to speak as the officers sprang from their seats and stood behind the chairs.

Puzzled, he continued in English, "We've had problems with our neighbours. I need you guys to tell them to stop killing my animals."

The men remained rooted and speechless. I stared at them. The men looked around them, wishing they had an escape route behind them. The only door was between themselves and their visitors.

I moved towards the door. The police crouched, quaking.

"Come on, you've scared them, they must have heard about an aggressive Englishman," laughing I strode back to the truck.

"What was all that about? Did they think I would hurt them?" he asked, puffing out his chest.

"Yes, dear, you can intimidate sometimes, you know?" I said, grinning behind my hands.

Proudly Billy drove home, expecting an end to the killings.

Back at the farm, Billy searched for tools, a saw, a hammer, and some nails.

"What are you doing," I asked.

"I'm repairing the fence I tore down."

"I thought it was clear. I don't want the FENCE," I screamed.

Billy returned his tools to their chest.

"Would you like a coffee, darling," I asked sweetly?

"Is the pregnancy getting too much for you?" asked Billy.

"No dear, I'm fine, enjoying thinking about our son."

There were still no eggs for Billy to collect.

"How about an early night?" I breathed.

The clock ticked to one AM. The baby moved uncomfortably in my tummy. Salty moisture ran into my eyes, sweat dripped from my nose. The baby jumped inside. Its tiny hands and feet searched for an escape, poking and kicking. I rolled to my side, easing the pain. But not for long.

Billy slept unaware.

On my back again, readjusting the bulge, my eyes rolled up into my head. I was now gently floating above the bed.

I turned again, spinning face down. I floated a few inches above the sheets. Now nose to nose with Billy, not touching, just there.

His eyes opened, the rest of his body frozen in place. Staring as if in a schoolboy competition, who could last longer. This was no fun game. He wet himself.

I floated lower, drifting towards the foot of the bed. His eyes followed me until I reached his groin. He could watch no longer, forcing his eyes closed. My nose twitched. He sensed my movement, not daring to open his eyes again until my fetid breath invaded his nose. Quaking, he saw I was eye to eye with him. Mine was empty, empty of empathy, empty of colour. Clear glass marbles watched him, before floating down once more. Only a few inches this time, I slowed and stopped at his Adam's apple.

"Please be a dream," he wished.

My mouth opened, revealing rows of pointed teeth. He knew it was no dream as the first bite clamped his throat.

Tearing, ripping, and chewing. He was dead. I was ravenous, taking clump after clump of his throat, opening up to my goal, his intestines.

The gorge continued until sated. His stomach, intestines, and tendons gone. I drifted into a seated position next to my husband's body.

Looking at him, I smiled and rested, knowing my task was unfinished. I waited less than a minute.

I was calm and precise as I drew a fingernail sharply across the bulge, "You are next, my baby son."

Opening my belly, spreading flaps of skin and fat, I lifted the boy out. I clamped my needle-like teeth down on the still attached baby, leaving nothing but a skull and a few bones.

I floated out of the open window and swept across the gap of missing fencing.

"I told him not to fix it!" I sniggered.

Howling into the night sky, it echoed across rice fields, waking terrified farmers.

I found a new home, high in a Pinus Kesiya tree. Settling comfortably on a branch until I needed my next feast.'

As if jarred from a dream, she looked up and around.

"What do you want to know?" she asked Hla.

Philippa and Nick were stunned into silence.

Hla broke the silence.

"Is Philippa a vampire or Krasue?"