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Wayne Kyle Spitzer
Get It Out of Me | A Horror Novel
Copyright © 2018 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. All Rights Reserved. Published by Hobb’s End Books, a division of ACME Sprockets & Visions. Cover design Copyright © 2018 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. Please direct all inquiries to: HobbsEndBooks@yahoo.com
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
She is lucky, Beth knows. Lucky to have been artificially inseminated, lucky to be part of the trial program, lucky to no longer be barren. But she doesn’t feel lucky as she emerges from the examination room, where she catches her reflection in one of the mirrored columns of the waiting area and sees only frailty, qualmishness, infirmity.
Doctor Lairman talks as he escorts her out. He talks and talks, leaping from one subject to another like a bee pollinating summer dandelions. About human cloning and why it will never be an ethical nor practical solution to human infertility. About how it would require the sacrifice of too many failed embryos to achieve a single viable specimen. About the interior design of the clinic, which is too cold, he says—as they pass several other seated patients, all of them women—too sterile.
He escorts her all the way to her car, where she pauses before getting in, concerned that she isn't showing, even at 16 weeks. Her dog, Frodo, looks on, even as Dr. Lairman assures her that she will; that all tests are normal. They are distracted by a commotion at the door to the clinic: a little girl, exiting the building with her mother, wants to take a doll from the office. Her mother is saying: "No, no, sweetie. That doesn't belong to you. It belongs to them."
The girl runs up to Lairman and hands it to him. He examines it. "Oh, no. This won't do at all. This child is much too pretty." He hands the doll back. "She is clearly not ours. But I dare say, she looks a lot like you."
The little girl beams; her mother smiles. So does Beth, admiring Lairman. The mother and daughter leave as he greets an arriving patient, another woman of about thirty-five. As this woman is attractive, and Beth is attracted to Dr. Lairman, she makes special note of her.
Beth and Dr. Lairman say their goodbyes, and she drives off. She cannot help but glance in her rearview mirror as he puts a hand on the woman's shoulder and escorts her into the clinic. Then she drives past a guard post and a sign that reads: Nellis Air Force Base. And the desert swallows her.
THEY ZOOM ALONG THE deserted highway, Frodo sticking his head out the car’s passenger window, Beth talking via cellphone with her mother—who does not approve of her daughter's decision to have a baby out of wedlock, even if doing so will benefit science.
"...what about Arnold?" she continues, hearing nothing Beth has said. "He seems like such a nice boy. What? Not loser enough for you? Or are you running for head of the misandrist club?"