I still remember the day it all happened. It was a crisp winter morning, the first traces of sunlight had just begun to creep over the tree line and sweep across the land. My partner and I were out tending to the garden when it happened.
You see, we live in quite a rural area and although we’re not a farm we still have quite a lot of land. Living in such a remote area gave us a great view of the stars even in the early morning. My wife was only a few months pregnant at the time and morning sickness had hit her like a brick.
The comet illuminated the sky as it flew by, it was the first I had seen one in person; it happened as I was pulling weeds from the side of the house, Katherine was the first to notice, she sat up from her chair and pointed to the sky, “look Robert!” She had squealed giddily, I always loved that about her, how she never once hid her intrigue at even the littlest things. “That looks pretty close” I had said, the flaming sparkling ball hid behind the house and dissipated just behind the tree line. “We should go have a look,” she said, “I heard space rocks are pretty expensive” “Whatever you say darling” I had responded, sighing out deep gushes of air into the frosty morning as I stood, a heap of weeds clutched in my hand.
We made our way out toward the back of the property then. Me, with my mud splattered gum boots and thick winter coat and Katherine, wrapped in a thin cardigan and slippers. Both of us remained in our pajamas. It was a long, mostly silent walk. I think we were both too cold for conversation and too curious to turn back. We reached the property line and crossed over into the woods, the soft mud quickly turned to crunchy underbrush. Leaves painted white and sparkling with morning dew, we were close now.
We both saw it at the same time, a large mound, rocky, slimy and wedged into the ground. I moved forward in front, Katherine stood back, her arms crossed across her chest. The thing was big, big enough for me to be concerned. I was no expert but even I was surprised something like this could hit the earth at such a speed and not do any damage. Surrounding it was normal plantlife, seemingly unaffected by the arrival of the comet. Hell, there wasn’t even any fire damage or smoke.
“What’s wrong?” Katherine had asked, sensing my discomfort. I didn’t respond. It wasn’t that I was just confused, I was unnerved. We didn’t know then, only after were there were reports of “meteor showers” across the globe from a small asteroid belt passing through our solar system. I was transfixed on the inky glob only mere metres in front of me. It didn’t look like any asteroid I had seen in pictures, a dark slime-like substance spewed from a small hole at the summit of the rock. “Look there!” She called out from behind. Through the treetops white orbs raced past, more comets hailing from above. “What the hell is going on” I mumbled, every invasion film I had seen raced through my head but I couldn’t believe it, I wouldn’t.
I ignored the other comets I saw ahead and focused on the one in front of us, “Katherine, I think maybe we should go back…” I didn’t even finish the words, the slimy liquid went from a spew to an eruption and the asteroid burst. Black, inky, slimy goop covered me and everything else in the surrounding area. I fumbled at my glasses trying to wipe the goo away but gave up and threw them aside. “Katherine!” I screamed, she lay twitching on the grass, something had hatched from the rock, no, from the egg.
It left a trail of goo that led toward my wife, I practically leapt over to her. She choked and sputtered, crimson blood discharged from her mouth and nose, her hands clutched at her jaw reaching in to grab some unseen attacker until she went lame. I only caught a glimpse of the hatchling, it looked human, like an infant; the thought still causes me to shake and sob uncontrollably. My baby, my darling Katherine, gone. I still remember dragging her once warm body back to the house, my hands shaking; I wanted to ignore the movement in her abdomen. I tried to pretend I was imagining it.
I couldn’t bury her, but I couldn’t bring myself to call an ambulance either because then It would be official, my wife was dead. I kept her in our bedroom, nestled in the blankets. Each day I would make her a breakfast that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, eat and pretend her stomach wasn’t still growing. One night I swear I saw a face staring through the window, it was almost human but something about it just wasn’t. Sort of like those celebrity wax figures. When I went to investigate there was nothing there, just a trail of black goo leading to the forest. I didn’t sleep that night.
Now I’m sitting here writing this on my dining table, wondering how many more are out there and blocking my ears from the sounds of skin tearing and inhuman moaning emanating from the forest and from the bedroom.
The cuckoo’s egg is hatching.