Breeder by Douglas Clegg

Author:Douglas Clegg
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy - Dark, Fiction : Fantasy - Dark, Horror, Fiction - Horror, Fiction, Fantasy, Horror & Ghost Stories, Horror - General, Miscarriage, General, Good and evil
ISBN: 9780809556564
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2006-04-15T18:53:20.407000+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

HE SAID, IT'S NOT EVEN HUMAN

"Get me the fuck out of here!" Winston Adair shrieked. He kept his head down, his fists pounding the dashboard of his son's Mercedes. He didn't even have to look up to see the house, he knew where they were, he knew by the tone of Ted's voice: "We could say hello while we're here." While they'd been driving, Winston had felt calm, almost relaxed for the first time in three weeks -he had stayed inside and watched for those bugs, those crawling things, those wasps, but Ted had convinced him to come out for a drive, just for some fresh air. "It's such a goddamned beautiful day and you've been pissing in mayonnaise jars long enough, pop, it's either a drive or a loony bin, your choice." And so Winston had agreed to go, but only if the windows were kept tightly rolled up, only if the doors were locked.

But he hadn't agreed to this.

"Jesus, pop," Ted whisper-shouted, “The fucking world can hear you."

"Drive, fucking drive, or so help me God, Ted, so help me God!" Ted Adair, cursing under his breath, continued driving to the end of Hammer Street, taking a left on Kalorama, heading away from Winthrop Park.

They went to Ted's condo, because there was booze there. Ted needed a good stiff drink. He was trying to remember the name of the shrink his ex-wife Paula used to go to. Steinfeld, Steenman, Steinman, something like that. Although maybe what pop needs is a whole fucking institute, maybe he needs a megashot of morphine, maybe a lobotomy.

Which reminded Ted of the phrase he used to hear in college, I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy. "If I'm going to listen to this bullshit, I want to be half in the bag, pop." But his father wasn't listening.

Winston Adair glanced suspiciously around the living room, but then decided it was safe. He walked like he was already blind drunk -weaving across the parquet floor, stubbing his toes on the coffee table, then navigating uncertainly around the beige sofa, around the lamp table, along the wall, to the window that overlooked Q Street. He stayed to the left of the window. Then, spotting the dining room table and chairs, he went over, wobbling and klutzy the whole way, grabbed a chair, and dragged it back across the floor to the window. The chair made a fingernails-on blackboard sound as it went. Ted shook his head sadly as he watched his father. He stood in the front doorway, unsure as to whether he should stay or leave. Why am I letting myself in for this? "Hey, listen, let's say you're not crazy, let's say you were involved in all this voodoo bullshit, but so the fuck what? That was what, over twenty years ago? So you ate a couple of mushrooms or something, or you drank too much vino and a girl died on the operating table. You can

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