I knew, from that exact moment, that staying in solitude would kill me. I needed somebody around, somebody to tell, somebody who I could confide in. But I had no personal ties. No close communications, nobody I could really trust. I hadn’t spoken to my parents in ages, and something seems awfully strange about my telling them that I conceived a child, possibly from a glowing corn husk. Those next few days of anxiety, I thought of people I could call. My address book had no viable names. Nobody in there had the same phone number anymore. I hadn’t updated the book in ages. On e-mail I fared no better. I knew nobody who lived close enough to me that I could confide in. I looked all over for old contacts I might have known, old friends I shared secrets with, or anything of the sort. Suddenly a I remembered a name I could contact. His name was Charles Colwell, and old friend of mine. We were college roommates for a time. And afterwards we lived together in an apartment in the city. He studied radiology, I studied agricultural techniques. We both lived in the city after college for 2 years, I moved out after he decided to go back to graduate school. I knew not where he lived, or by what means he lived by, but I knew he was still in the city. 
I found a telephone number leading to someone by the name of Chuck Colwell, but after I called it, I found out it was only a law firm. But by a hunch, I looked into a notable hospital in Chicago. And sure enough, I saw a Dr. Charles Colwell, doctor of radiology. I called into his office, to determine if it was really my old friend Chaz. I called his office to find out. 
The nervous tension I felt while the phone was ringing was unbearable. I could not stand to even imagine myself telling an old acquaintance of mine becoming pregnant by any means. And with the mystery surrounding it and everything, I worried that he might not believe me. But I recognized the voice at the end of the phone line. I knew it was Chaz. 
“Chaz, it’s me.” I said with a tone that implied a high level of urgency. 
“Andy?” he asked me, almost not knowing who I was, “Why do you need to call now?” 
“An emergency.” I said, “Please believe me.” 
“You called on a busy day.” he said, “I have three cases lined up, and my lunch ends in 5 minutes.” 
“But this is urgent.” I didn’t want him to stop listening now. He had all my focus. 
“Are you in financial trouble?” he asked, “I can’t bail you out now.” 
“It’s not that.” I said, “It’s something else.” 
“You’re being awfully vague.” he spoke slowly, “Please tell me what the matter is.” 
“Yesterday I found something in my corn field that disturbed me.” I said, finally getting down the point.
“Corn field?” he asked me laughing, “What, are you a farmer now?” 
“Yes I am, and please listen.” I started to shout. 
“No wonder you studied in agriculture!” he giggled, “You were looking to get out of the city for the longest time.” 
“Will you shut up and listen to me?” I yelled again. “I found a glowing ear of corn out there.” 
He paused. I knew I might have said something wrong. His silence frightened me, but he seemed to comprehend, “Glowing? Corn?” he asked, “Don’t tell me, tell the national news media.” 
“I can’t.” I said, “There’s something personal involved.” 
“How personal?” Chaz asked once more, “Is it so personal that you would hide a glowing ear of corn from the world?” 
“I’m pregnant.” I muttered. 
“What?” he asked calmly. 
“I’m pregnant.” I said intelligently. 
He paused for a moment. I might have made an enormous speech blunder, “Pregnant with what? Emotion?” he asked once. At this point I was ready to hit him across his face. 
“With a human child.” I said. “Can you believe that.” 
After yet another pause he finally said, “No I can't believe that.” 
I sighed. “I thought not.” I decided to try and convince him, “You got to believe me. I know this is happening to me.” 
“I can think of 200 reason why you’re not telling the truth to me.” Chaz said, “And the first 175 have something to do with the fact that men don’t get pregnant.” 
“What about after contact with a glowing ear of corn, huh?” I asked him now coming to my own defense, “You can’t possibly come up with an explanation for that, can you? Some things are just plain bizarre.” 
“You didn’t actually touch the glowing corn did you?” he asked, “You wouldn’t actually touch a vegetable that’s emitting light, would you?” 
“No, of course not! I—uh- well…” I paused, “I didn’t mean to touch it. I dropped it. It fell and burned my belly.” 
“Burned your-” he paused. It seemed as if he realized something, “What color is the burn?” 
“I looked at my stomach. “It is a deep crimson hue. Like ruby red. And the shape is very defined too. It looks like a beehive pattern.” 
“I changed my mind.” Chaz said this time, “I think you just might be right here?” 
“Right?” I asked, “How?” 
“I’ll tell you when I get there.” he said. 
“You’re coming here?!” I was shocked at his decision. 
“I’m not going to miss one of the biggest medical breakthroughs of our time.” Chaz said, “This may alter both radiology and obstetrics as we know it. I need to be there.” 
“You’re really coming?” I asked. 
“Do you still have that rural house in New Hampshire?” 
“I most certainly do.” 
“I am coming.” he said very calmly, “I’ll be there in about a week. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” 
“I agree.” I said, and the call ended. 
I felt somewhat reassured now that I had a radiologist on my side. For some reason it seemed that this would help my case. But I would be alone again for the next week. And nothing to look forward to, except for Charles Colwell, a man about to put his credibility on the line as discovering a human male pregnancy. Now my main dread was having this go public. I feared that immensely. But one thing was for sure, I couldn’t stay home anymore. And I wasn’t sure if I could stay anywhere. This could be dreadful, I know, but that’s how it may just have to end up.

I grabbed a few groceries from his shelf, and I brought it up to the counter to pay. He was watching a television game show on a little TV he kept on the side of the counter. He almost didn’t notice me. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw me and rose up to say hello. “Why Andy!” he said with his low rustic tone of voice, “Haven’t seen you in quite some time.”
“Hello Pat.” I said calmly, “I’m just here to buy a few things.”
“You haven’t forgotten anything, have you?” he asked. He always liked to care.
“No sir.” I said, “I just need some stuff for the next few days.”
“Well that’s just dandy.” he began to scan my items. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spied Pat’s dog, Gracie. She was a lovely young hound, with a gentle temperament. I saw her and she licked the bottom of my hand. I pet her on the head for a few minutes.
Suddenly she began to growl, and seemed less-than-playful. He gritted her teeth, and lunged for my shirt. She bit the bottom, which hung loosely over my belt. She tugged at my shirt. “Easy girl.” Pat said, “Don’t do that!”
I heard a rip, and I saw Gracie running off with the lower part of my shirt. “Bad girl!” Old Whiskey Pat scolded her, “Don’t ever do that again!” He turned to me and spoke, “I’m sorry Mr. Doherty, if there's anything I can do to make up for it-”
“You don’t need to.” I laughed it off, “It’s just a loose shirt. It wasn’t that much. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I am sure.” I said.
“Because that whole looks mighty large.” he pointed down at it, “Say, do you have a birthmark or something?” he pointed at the bared red mark on my belly.
“It’s corn.” I said quickly, “Just corn.”
“Corn?” he asked suspiciously, “You mean like the corn you grow?”
“Yes, just that kind of corn.” I now fabricated a story, “I was boiling a fine ear of corn so I could eat it. And I didn’t have a shirt on. I pulled an ear out of the pot to judge if it had been cooked right. All of the sudden I slipped, and the boiling corn fell straight on my stomach.”
“That’s terrible.” he said feeling a deep sympathy, “It didn’t hurt, did it?”
“Oh quite.” I said, “It’s still painful now.”
“Do you need some antibiotic ointment?” he asked, “’Cause I don’t want to see it get infected.”
“I have some at home.” I said throwing down my money. “Thank you for your time.”
“No, no, thank you.” Old Whiskey Pat said to me, “And remember, we’re having a town meeting on Thursday.”
“I might not be able to make it, but I’ll keep it in mind.” I said. And I exited the store.
I stepped out into the brisk spring air, carrying my groceries. I walked through town, I passed nobody, but I still knew I was bearing my Crimson Mark very visually. My mark from when I became pregnant. A mark, which I hoped would not remain long, but would remain for much longer than I thought. I was labeled now. And I would be labeled with something even more prominent some time soon.

“Please be not-vague.” I said approaching him, “What will you do?” 
Chuck paused. I knew he was going to say something profound. I braced myself for it. “We could fake your own death.” 
“That’s a terrible idea, Chuck!” I shouted, “I can’t trust that at all!” 
“Let me explain it!” Chuck said, actually showing excitement, “It’s very important that you hear the plan!” 
“Forget it!” I didn’t want to be near Chuck, “I don’t want to listen.” 
“Give it a chance!” he shouted back. 
“No!” my tone of voice grew violent. I knew the hormones had taken me over. 
“What is your other option?” he asked slowly. 
That question threw my whole argument off of it’s base. I detested the idea of faking my own death. I could get in serious trouble for being discovered. And the whole idea sounded like it couldn’t work. I turned away from Chuck to perceive my other options. 
But he was right. There were none. He explained to me that even my best idea was bound for failure. I knew that this idea would be the only one with a slight chance of success. I turned around to face Chuck. He was very patient with me, and I respected that about him. I looked back at him and asked, “Explain to me your plan to fake my own death.” 
“Thank you.” he said. “Two months ago, my Dad bought a new car, and he’s giving me the old one. I don’t need it, so it will be part of our plan. And also, in the hospital I work at, there’s a half-deposed corpse in the morgue. No one has claimed it. Legally, it belongs to us now. It’s completely unidentifiable, especially after it’s been burned.” 
“Burning a corpse?!” I was horrified. 
“Allow me to explain.” Andrew said, “So, we load the corpse into the car, and with a remote-control set up, drive the car over the edge of a cliff, and set fire to it using gasoline. The corpse in there burns, and at the scene of the accident, we leave a half-burned picture of your drivers’ license. Then you call 911, we get out of the scene, and the local police are led to the inevitable conclusion that you are dead.” 
“I’m liking it so far.” I said calmly, “It seems well-though out. But what will we do with the living Andrew Doherty?” 
“You can’t be Andrew Doherty anymore.” Chuck said, officially sending me into quiet rage, “We’re going to sell your house, saying that you’ve died, and then you will relocate to that piece of land you talked about. We’ll set you up there with a different name, a different identity, and a different national background. Nobody knows it’s you, especially if you disguise yourself really well.” 
“How can I disguise as a pregnant male?” I asked, “That’s not easy to hide.” 
“I know!” he said again showing a little bit of excitement, “You’ll take the identity of a female. It’s quite simple really. Just disguise as a woman, for the rest of your life.” 
“That’s way too long.” I said, “Unreasonably long.” 
“You can get a sex change operation later.” Chuck said. 
“Absolutely not!” I turned away again. 
“It’s for the baby.” he said, which almost completely swayed my mind. 
“I’ll consider it.” I said softly. 
“Are you clear with the plan?” he asked, to which I nodded. “Good. We’ll be starting soon enough. Finish your will, and cancel all your bank accounts. This will be the greatest challenge either of us will face.”

Chuck appeared upon my doorstep at the fifth day of the eighth week, and asked me quite slowly “Are you ready?” 
I was a bit frightened by this, because his body was so concealed by the dark, and it looked like an intruder at first. But I recognized his tone. I answered his question with a nod. “Take 10 minutes.” he said, “Take everything you need. You cannot come back here.” 
I nodded again. Quickly I ran through the house and grabbed some items I would need. I grabbed my wallet, removed all contents from it, except for my driver’s license. I put some groceries in the trunk of his car, and he added some of his own. I turned off all the lights, and got in his car. I looked back upon my house one last time. We then drove away. 
“Did you hold up your end of the plan?” I asked. 
“I most certainly did.” Chuck responded quite seriously, “I have my old junked-up car waiting on a road near a cliff. It’s not far from here. Inside the car is a remote control panel, and controls, so that we can drive the car remotely. The corpse is in there from the hospital, and all we have to do is drive it over the edge, and burn it.” 
I nodded to his plan. Thirty minutes later, after some talk about pregnancy, we arrived at the site where the car was. We got out of the car to look at the scene. I saw the body lying lifeless in the front seat. It frightened me a bit, until I realized the corpse was not rotten yet, and we needed to work around it. Chuck got out a remote control for the car. We lined it up along the road, so that it would drive off the cliff. We stood up on the side of the hill. “Get ready for some action.” Chuck said to me. He revved up the car from 50 feet away, and the wheels started to spin. I grew nauseous even thinking about it. As he remotely threw the car into drive, it spun away, cruising at over 100 miles per hour. It zoomed past us, and we saw it smash through the guard rails. 
Then with one delicate motion, the car swept over the edge of the cliff. I heard no noise for a short second. The sound of the car faded as it fell off the cliff. The remote fell out of Chuck’s hands as he watched in amazement. I lost sight of the car, and listened to the wind blow for a second. 
The second ended with a loud “CRUNCH” followed by the sound of an explosion. I began to see smoke over the side of the cliff. Chuck and I ran to the edge to see what happened. The woods below were dark, and dank, except for a bright glow. A fiery glow which created smoke. A glow which could only be the smoke from the car wreck. Chuck and I climbed down the ledge, which was over 100 feet higher than the road. Chuck toted my two cans of gasoline with him. The wreck was frightening. There was metal all over the place, and the corpse in the front seat had been horribly disfigured. I grew sick at imagining that it was supposed to be me. “It’s not good enough.” said Chuck, “We need to burn the wreck.” 
We spent the next half an hour using each can of gasoline to thoroughly douse the car. By this time there was no fire anymore, so there was no danger. I made sure to cover the inside with oil, and the corpse still scared me deeply. We spent a whole half hour working to make sure the car was neatly, and evenly covered. When it was all finished, Chuck and I, admired our work. This was not an easy plan to pull off. Chuck struck a match and threw it at the car. We ran away back to the ledge. When we got there, the entire car had been engulfed in flame. We watched it burn, for a short amount of time, and we watched the flame linger. 
“One missing thing.” I said quietly. When the flames died down, I added the missing thing to the wreck, my own Drivers’ license. After all the flames had died, Chuck removed his remote control apparatus from the car, and we headed back up the ledge. 
“This is perfect.” chuck said as we climbed back up, “I’ll call the police in a few hours. Once they get to this scene, they’ll think it was you in the wreck, and they’ll pronounce you dead. And then you’ll be relocated to another town, under an assumed name, after faking your own death.” 
“I know.” I said calmly. 
“You’re not excited for this?” he asked. 
“I’m just thrilled about faking my own death.” I said sarcastically, “And I’m thrilled about upheaval too. That just gets me going.” 
“By the way,” Chuck began, “Have you thought about your new name?” 
“My new name?” I asked him. 
“Yes.” Chuck said, “You’re going to be registered as a female immigrant from Canada, under an assumed name. Have you thought about what you want to name yourself?” 
I did not know what I would want. But then, suddenly a name came to mind. “Candice.” I said, “Candice Margaret Marlowe.” I said quite confidently, “That name will fit me.” 
“If you say so.” Chuck said. “Come on. I’ll drive you out of here. I’ll explain the rest of my plan later.”

During my eight weeks time at the cabin, my body grew furiously. Changes were rampant, and often severe. Somehow a male’s body did not respond well to pregnancy. In this time, my belly bulged slightly further. It gave the viewer the illusion of my being rather bloated. However bloating was a problem for me, it seemed that one bite of a single vegetable would cause my stomach to recoil for the next 7 hours. And I could almost feel the baby growing inside of me. With every step I took, I felt my gaining weight. But the most severe change seemed to happen overnight, in a literal sense. I woke up one morning, and as I stepped to the mirror, I could see my body was retaining water. My previously bony facial features now yielded to a puffy, fattened face. Each of my fingers had grown wider, and my limbs all seemed to sag. My hair seemed to grow at three times its original speed; however I used this to my advantage. I let my hair grow out, so as to give me a ponytail for when I had to disguise myself as a woman. I stopped shaving when I realized my facial hair would not grow back. Also, my voice began to lose its tone. I had a more effeminate voice, mostly due to the large amount of female hormones coursing through me. This could confuse my genetics at determining my gender, possibly permanently. As for that one Crimson Marking embedded deep into my skin, it had no more burn to its touch, but I could feel it burning in my mind. It stretched out a bit, and no longer resembled its previous form, but that mark, the single mark from whence I had conceived a child, would be ever-present for my entire life.
Chuck had convinced me that once the baby was born, I could just go to have the Marking cut off with the use of a laser, but I knew that the Marking’s implications were more than skin-deep. There was a different meaning to them, and I was determined to hide it, as if it were my badge of shame. I knew there was nothing to shame in creating a child, but I knew that the populace was not ready for the possibility of a pregnant man. But, I felt better about my shame and guilt once I had discovered that it was not shared by me alone.
While I had spent four weeks at that cabin, and well into my twelfth week of pregnancy, I went for a walk along the lakeside, in broad daylight. This was a rather rare experience for me. But it was in the early morning, and I could not sleep. I walked and wore my inexpensive running shoes, elastic waistband shorts, and just a white t-shirt. Just right for an August in Maine. But early in the morning, there was a mist over the lake, which made it rather hard to peer off into the distance. I sat down in a beach chair that had been set up the entire night. I looked around the beach and my illusion of being alone was shattered. For sitting at a beach picnic table, was a girl, who I could guess was no older than 18 years old. She sat at the table sobbing quietly. She had a protruding belly, which I knew there was a child in her. I just seemed to know even with my limited expertise. I couldn’t ignore her in her own sadness. I was myself rather shy, and too embarrassed to ask if she needed help. But I did get up when I saw her sobbing stopped. I knew she needed help.
I sat down on the picnic table where she sat, along the opposite end of the bench from her. She spied me and observed me herself, and then quietly turned away to look at the lake. So, exiling all my nervousness I finally asked her, “Is everything alright?”
“I could only wish.” She said.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked
“Not unless you can alter time and tell me he was no good in the first place.” She said.
“Oh.” I said calmly, “Those types of issues.
“Yes.” She said, “Those types.”
“I was just worried because I saw you sobbing over here and-” I spoke until I was stopped.
“Believe me, you don’t need to worry about me.” She said, “I will survive this.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” I asked.
“Can you perform a miracle abortion on a girl past 24 weeks pregnancy?” she asked.
“No.” I admitted.
“Then no, there is nothing you can do.” She said. In my mind I began to piece together what she was going through, simply based upon what she said.
“Well,” I said as I stood up, “I hope everything goes alright for you.”
“Wait!” she said beckoning me to sit down. “Maybe there is something you can do to help.”
“What would that be?” I asked diligently.
“Please listen.” She said picking herself up, “Listen to what I have to say, and you can go about your business, but it would make me feel better to have someone I could explain things to. Someone who just might understand.”
“I know I’ll understand.” I said as I sat back down, “Start from the beginning.”
“I knew this guy,” she began and I tried to picture what she was saying in my head, “he was just super. You know the ‘every girl’s dream’ guy. Well, I had the honor of him being my boyfriend. And after one wild night, one thing led to another, and well…” she became nervous to say, “I became pregnant.” I nodded to show my comprehension, “I’m only seventeen.” She said, “This news wasn’t welcome to those who had to hear it. Needless to say, just telling him this news nearly sent him into a panic attack, and he left me, claimed the child wasn’t his.”
“Is it his baby?” I asked.
“I’ve never slept with anyone else.” She said, “It has to be him.”
“How can he say it’s not his then? From my perspective it’s most obviously him?”
“He’s in denial.” She said, “He avoids me, doesn’t talk to me, when he does he taunts me, he’s not every girl’s dream. But anyway, my mother encouraged me to have the baby aborted, but…” she paused again out of her own lack of an explanation.
“You’re against it?” I asked.
“No.” she said, “I was scared. Scared of what people would say about me if they found out.”
“Wouldn’t it be worse if they found out you were pregnant?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She said, “But I will find out. You see, I put off the abortion for weeks and weeks, and now, it’s no longer legal for me to do it.”
“Well then, why did you come to Sebago Lake?” I asked.
“My mom.” She said, “She thought I needed time to unwind, to have a healthy baby-environment.”
“What will you do with the baby?” I asked one last question.
“Time will tell.” She said. At that moment she clasped her hand to her belly. Her lips curled upwards into a contented smile. “But it feels nice though. I’m not sure if I made the right choice.”
At this point I waved goodbye to her, and walked away. I felt as though my own problems were reflected in her. As I was just about to exit the beach, I stopped, and for a reason which is still unknown to me today, I turned around to have one last look on her. She still sat at the picnic table, looking much happier than I saw her when I first laid eyes upon her. She was oblivious to my staring at her. She was smiling, and rubbed her belly lightly. In my subconscious, I did the same. It was at the moment that I thought she identified with me, subconsciously, and me consciously. So, at that moment I went back worrying about all the common worries any mother-to-be would have at this time.

Later that day, things became even more interesting. A man from the delivery service delivered a set of three large packages. I knew this had to be a sign of something. I checked to see where they had been sent from, and it was my good friend Chuck. I knew his address. The packages each had no specific labels on them, but they were just boxes from the post office. I opened one package up randomly. Inside was a note, handwritten from Chuck. “Wish I could be there.” The note said, “I wish you the best of luck. I hope this package comes in handy. Oh, by the way, try these on and make sure they fit.” With that, I was anxious to examine the package. I grabbed the first item in there I could find. I pulled it out and held it up before my eyes. It appeared to be a purple tank top. It was rather frilly, but it had been made with extra cloth covering the belly portion. There was no doubt about it. It was maternity-wear. My good friend Chuck had used the money I allotted him to buy me pregnant women’s clothes. Though I knew I would need this, I was rather dismayed to get it.
The next item I pulled up was a silky brown dress, with a sash just above the belly portion. This was maternity-wear as well. I pulled up three or four pairs of jeans, each one with an attached elastic waistband. There were three or four regular t-shirts, which were twice my size. But something told me that by the end of pregnancy, they would be too small.
However, Chuck was kind enough to provide me with some actual t-shirts that at least looked male. All the other ones had little pregnancy-slogans on them. One read “Under Construction”, and beneath it was an arrow pointing to my belly. Another read “Baby on Board”, which was written across the midsection of the shirt. It was his sense of humor. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to wear it.
But Chuck did provide regular t-shirts which I could actually wear without looking like a fool. At least he was a guy I could trust. Also in the package were several papers. It was an application for Canadian citizenship. Most of the information was filled out by Chuck, who placed my name as “Candace Margaret Marlowe”. Exactly as I wanted. I took the liberty of filling out a few details, most of which I made up on the spot, and mailed the form back to Chuck that very day. Of course, the Canadians were wary to accept a pregnant woman as a citizen. It’s all about population control, and they worry that I’d give birth during the process. But it’s okay. I expect I won’t be a citizen for years now.
But seeing how that was my only solace, I decided to venture outside of my cabin once more, and go down to the same beach I was at this morning. I brought with me a beach chair which I could sit down in. I just sat, and stared at the lake, and the trees on the other side. There were several families, all with children who were down the beach from me. I was far away, just like how I always felt. Suddenly, this one family came up to the beach, and I noticed something peculiar. I saw the same girl who I talked to that very morning. And she saw me too. We waved at each other. She continued to hold the hand of a small girl, who I assume was only 4 years old. By the look of things, that girl looked like her sister. There was also a young boy with a squirt gun, who looked about 8 years old, and another girl, who looked around 12 years old. They were there with a middle-aged blonde woman, who I could guess was their mother. It was at that point I saw her, the girl I talked to this morning; go into the water in her bikini. I could see the shape of her belly, as she told me. She really did look 24 weeks pregnant.
She kept swimming, and occasionally looked back at me. I averted my gaze and looked at her siblings. Her younger brother, who looked completely obnoxious, was squirting her with his gun. He looked like he was actually trying to hurt her. I felt some misplaced sense of contempt toward him. For now I appreciated the delicate state she was in. Their mother sat down on the bench, far away from where I sat. She wore sunglasses, and was reading a book, the title of which I cannot recall. All I remember was seeing her younger sister, the one who looked to me about 12, was sitting on the beach, listening to music on her headphones. Of course, she was at the stage of her life where she thought it was okay to drown out the rest of the world, for an hour or two. I was at that stage too. She looked like she had no care for what was going on. None at all.
The nameless girl who I met this morning was swimming in the water next to her youngest sister. She was helping her four year-old sister adjust to her float-wings she wore over her upper arms. The older sister was pulling the youngest around in the water. They were playing together, like a family. At that moment, I knew she was practicing to have her own baby. And I probably should have too. Had I a family.

Suddenly, without warning, her little brother squirted her with his tiny gun. He then proceeded to run a few inches in front of me and spray the front of my shirt. I smiled at him. He kept running and yelling, like a normal eight year-old should. He was laughing.
“You’re quite a good shot.” I said to him, “You’re a good marksman!”
“That’s nothin’!” he shouted to me in a nasaly voice, “Watch this!”
He turned around and shot one of the trees which was growing on the side of the beach. He made blaster noises with his mouth. I laughed at this. I looked at Jenn, and she frowned. She shook her head in disapproval. I shrugged.
“I got you now!” he shouted as he proceeded to squirt Jenn. She just looked away from him. She was annoyed by this.
“Okay.” I tried to calm him down, “There’s a whole bunch of people on this beach you can squirt. Why don’t you squirt someone else!”
“I don’t want to!” he said in an attempt at conjuring some machismo. This made me giggle, “I’m a cop, and I punish all bad people!” he continued to shout and quirt his sister.
I had little idea of what he was trying to do, but I’m not good at understanding the logic of 8 year-olds.
“Well we could always use another crime-fighter.” I tried to talk him down.
“This world needs a hero!” he shouted, proving my attempts were failing, “And I’m squirting her, because she’s bad!”
“It’s okay, Thomas.” She said as she lifted him up, “I’m not bad. Go away, why don’t you?”
“Mom told me you were bad.” Thomas said, “And so was Derrick?”
“Derrick?” I asked out loud.
“Mom says he’s her baby-daddy.” Thomas said to me. I nodded my head, “And she was bad to him!”
“Go away, Thomas.” Jenn said, “I’m trying to talk here!”
“Oh yeah?” Thomas said as Jenn set him down, “Well, Mom said you were very bad! She said you don’t deserve a baby! And I don’t want to be an uncle! Mom says you were mean to Derrick too! You ruin everything!” he said as he stampeded away.
Those hateful, spiteful, and harmful words dripped like poison from his lips. He had no idea of how hurtful what he said was, but it really affected Jenn. I could see it. She was on the verge of tears.
“She doesn’t mean it.” I said to her softly, “She’s probably just mad.”
“She meant it.” Jenn began to sob, “She hates this baby.”
“People say things when they’re upset. Things they didn’t mean to.” I consoled her, “She
was probably upset.”
“But she wasn’t!” Jenn was breaking down, “She’s the one who set me up with Derrick in the first place. He was her boss’ son. When she found out I got pregnant she… she took his side!”
“Why would she ever do that?” I asked, “You’re her daughter.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Jenn said, “She doesn’t care about me anymore. She’d have me dead if it got rid of my baby.”
“Jenn…” I said, “She must love you.”
“She doesn’t.” Jenn cried, “Not anymore. She told me so.”
“That’s not right.” I said. “That’s just cruel.”
“Tell that to her!” she said, “My father was a Presbyterian minister. He died before my youngest sister was born. Now she takes her anger out on me using my siblings.”
“She should never do that.” I said, “I’m sorry it’s so confusing.”
“I know…” she said, “I’m just distraught.”
She reached out to hug me, and I obliged. She was upset about her life. I knew she was exaggerating about some things, but most of it seemed real. I could feel her belly press up against mine. Soon we released, and I could see she stopped crying.

I know as far as my mother went, she was loving, caring, supportive, and always nurtured my dreams too. I loved her, and my father. I could not fathom how this could happen to Jenn. And then I realized her father was a minister too. Maybe some of his beliefs fell upon her mother after he died. Whatever the case, this was a sad story I was witnessing.

But all grievances aside, I still had my own pregnancy to deal with. Two days after seeing Jenn again, Chuck sent me a letter in the mail. I read his letter and was wary of the message. Chuck said that he found an obstetrician who would be “interested” in handling a “private male case”. Chuck assured me, he’d be the only one to know, and this obstetrician would not tell a soul what was happening to me.
But I was still worried. For some reason, I thought Chuck had made a poor judgment decision. I didn’t want contact. I didn’t want anything to have to do with telling anyone my secret. Even Jenn, who I trusted.
But still, Chuck’s note also said that I’d be clear to enter Canada in the next ten weeks. And again, two weeks after that he’d relocate me on some property in Vermont. This I believed. As long as I could settle down before I gave birth.
However, as the days went on I became used to wearing the shirt’s Chuck sent me. I even wore the ones with the “Baby on Board” slogan. It fit me, and was comfortable. Granted, I never let anyone see me do this, but I still did. I was growing into my own pregnancy. Though it didn’t seem so a few short weeks ago, I now was feeling like a parent. And began to accept the fact.

However, I overestimated my luck. I noticed that there was a woman sitting at the table across from me, who kept looking at my sweater. I was unnerved by this. I was afraid she was looking at my stomach. She had a nice figure, and curly blonde hair. I disregarded her for a moment. Then finally, she approached my table, and sat down. I had no response to this, but she struck up a conversation.
“I just really would like to ask you something.” She said, “If that’s okay.”
“It is.” I said, “If you would really like to.”
“I would.” She was being redundant, “I noticed the print on your sweater.”
My sweater was gray, and printed on it were the words “Jacobsen State College”. This was the college that was located only a few towns over from mine when I lived in New Hampshire. “What about it?” I asked.
“Are you a graduate of Jacobsen?” she asked.
“No.” I chuckled, “I used to live near it.”
“Fancy that.” She smiled, “I actually went to that college, and I live in Wentworth.”
That town was just to the North of where I used to live. This was starting to get strange.
“Oh really?” I answered as benign as I could, “Yes, I lived in Rumney.”
“Really?” she asked, “When did you move out?”
“A few months ago.” I said narrowly avoiding citing pregnancy as my reason, “I decided it was time for change.”
“Really?” she asked, “You left about the same time as the accident.”
“What accident?” I asked, knowing full well exactly what she was talking about.
“You must have left before it happened.” She said with a very serious look, “A car fell off a cliff.”
“My goodness!” I said pretending to be surprised, “I didn’t hear about it.”
“It was in all the local papers.” She said, “Even in the ones down in Manchester.”
“That’s just awful.” I said back.
“Yes.” She said, “A local resident died.”
“Oh my goodness.” I faked a sense of surprise, “No one you knew, was it?”
“No it wasn’t.” she said, “I can’t remember the victim’s name.”
When she said this I felt the intense urge to shout, “He was Andrew Doherty you heartless bitch!” but I suppressed my feelings. It was sad to know that the accident I helped stage didn’t turn the name “Andrew Doherty” into an American sensation. But I kept my urge to myself and muttered, “I feel terrible.”
“I know.” She said, “It’s so sad.”
Now I was feeling better, “What are you doing here in Sebago Lake?” I asked.
“You didn’t hear about that either, did you?” she said.
Now I was legitimately surprised. She had piqued my interest. “What happened to Rumney?”
“It was terrible.” she said, “Only a few days ago a team of men drove us all out of town because of a biohazard in the town.”
Now I was afraid. Something was wrong with my town. I would not sit apart from it and pretend that I didn’t care. “What sort of biohazard?” I asked.
She beckoned for me to lean in closer. “With a fairly large belly that was very difficult for me to do. But I managed to lean over the table as much as I could. I leaned in just enough to hear her say, “Radioactivity.” That word stopped my heart.
“Radioactive?” I was shocked. “Is that possible?”
“Yeah.” She said, “A week ago US government agents wearing hazmat suits entered the whole area and chased us out because everyone was convinced we were in danger. They told us not to talk about it, but because you used to live there, I think you should know.”
“Where did it come from?” I asked, “The biological poisoning?”
“From the plants.” She said, “There were reports of some crops growing blue in the middle of the night, and strange biogenetic mutations happening to people.”
I was convinced that whatever was happening out there, I was the start of it. “When can you go home?” I asked.
“Not for a while.” She said, “The government said there needs to be time for the isotopes to decay. So, everyone’s on a year-long vacation.”
“My God…” I said as my voice trailed off, “What happened to the people?”
“There was something strange with one man.” She said, “Supposedly, there was a man in the town, a young guy, who kept reporting having glowing plants in his backyard. People ignored him, until one day, he was rushed to the hospital. And, I’m not kidding you about this; they actually removed a 16 week-old fetus from his stomach!”
At this point I did not feel like eating. I was afraid this was a rumor about me. “A fetus?” I asked, “In his stomach?”
“Yeah.” She said, “He was pregnant! He was mutated by the plants!”
“That’s not possible.” I said.
“But it is!” she said, “I mean, that’s what I heard. When the government got wind of that, they sent in their best guys to stop whatever was happening.”
At this moment my dinner arrived, and I became hungry again. After all, a pregnant man still has to eat. Even if his town is bombarded by radiation. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this.” She said, “And I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner.”
“It’s okay.” I said, “Thanks for being honest.”
She went away and sat back down at her table. I became frightened that this would happen to me. I was afraid of the story of the man who had the fetus removed from him. Now I knew, that I should never get medical attention, unless I knew it could be trusted. Bearing this in mind, I ate my dinner, in order to forget.

But those were my exact thoughts during that one night I had to clean. That morning, during my 24th week of pregnancy, I received a letter from Chuck. He asked me to but the heavy blankets that were on the beds upstairs into the closet, because he had forgotten to over the summer. So, I did just that for him. Of course, it was a rather hot night, so I wore no shirt, on account of humidity. I was almost finished with the blankets when I heard knocking at the door. Instantly I became self-conscious. I put on a shirt and went downstairs. I was not afraid to be seen with a pregnant belly, it was the crimson marking I was afraid would prompt questions. Even in this hot night, I still felt frightened enough to grab a short-sleeve shirt. 
The knocking was persistent. Whoever was there had the full intention of being let in. I climbed down the stairs as fast as I could (which was still very slow), and made my way over to the door. As I opened it, I noted a familiar face. It was Jenn, who I hadn’t seen since her mother pulled me away. She looked sad, and maybe had a bit of anxiety. “I wanted to see you.” She said. 
Knowing I would never turn her away, I let her inside. I said nothing. Instead I observed her enter. By my calculation, she was 28 weeks now, four ahead of me. Her belly was now in full-trimester size, and that stuck out with me. “I just wanted to go somewhere for a change.” She told me. 
“Well, I’m hoping to go to bed early.” I said, “So you can’t stay too long.” 
“Fair enough.” Jenn entered. 
“Do you have anything to eat?” she asked. 
I motioned towards the refrigerator. I noticed she pulled out one of my packages of string cheese. I was feeling like some myself. So the two of us broke one in half and ate it. The she sat down on the couch. I sat next to her as she looked at the half-completed jigsaw puzzle on my table. She looked at it with much interest. 
“You’re fond of puzzles?” she asked. 
“Not in the slightest.” I said, “But coincidentally, It’s the only thing that’s kept me sane the last two weeks.” 
“I agree.” She laughed, “There is so little to do here.” 
The puzzle was a picture of a lighthouse, sitting above a rocky coastline. I had been there as a child, so it was very strange to see when I found the puzzle. But the first thing I noticed was that Jenn picked up a piece and placed it right where it needed to go. I looked as she sorted through some of the pieces to make a more complete puzzle. 
“You’re skilled.” I complimented. “It took me weeks to get this far.” 
“You’re slow.” She teased me, “I did these puzzles with my mother all the time. Before my father died.” 
“I thought you hated your mother.” I commented. 
“No.” she said, “We’re a loving family, but...” she trailed off, “She’s been very disappointed lately.” 
“I’m sorry.” I said. “I think she’s gone too far.” 
“I used to love being around her.” Jenn confessed, “She was my best friend. And now, this baby has complicated everything.” 
“That happens.” I said, narrowly avoiding citing my own scenario. “Especially when the mother is so young.” 
“And I know she doesn’t like Derrick.” She told me, “She only pretends to, to get to me. She’s kind of childish that way.” 
“How do you know that?” I asked. 
“When the two of us started dating, she always told me how much she thought he was a good-for-nothing.” She said, “Ironically enough, I didn’t believe her.” 
As Jenn said this, I began working on the puzzle with her. We were talking about other things, but we were half-focused on the puzzle. It actually seemed to be nearing completion. 
“You really think your mother is a good person at heart?” I asked. 
“I know so.” Jenn said, “But with my father’s death, and my getting pregnant… it’s too much for her to bear at this time.” 
“What about your siblings?” I asked, “What do they think?” 
“Please.” She said, “You saw my younger sister at the beach.” 
I could only assume she was talking about the one who was listening to her own music and drowning out nature. “You mean the older, young sister?” 
“That’s her.” she said, “Her name’s Cassidy, and she’s a brat. She has no respect for me, my mother, anyone. Chances are, she’s going to end up like me.” 
“You think so?” I asked. 
“Yeah.” She said, “But with twins.” 
I laughed. She hated her sister, “And your brother?” I asked, “The squirt-gun addict?” 
“Oh, him.” She said very disinterested, “He doesn’t know what’s going on. He only knows what he hears from my mom. She tells me that I’ve been bad; he thinks that I’ve been out robbing banks. He doesn’t know what she means. But he thinks he does.” 
“I know adults who are like that.” I said. 
“I know a few people too.” Jenn said, “But he’s young, and naïve. I don’t trust that he will fully know what happened here until he’s my age.” 
“But he’ll understand.” I said, “I know I did.” 
“But if there’s one sibling who I adore, that’s little Lynn.” She said. 
“Lynn?” I asked, “You mean the toddler?” 
“She’s four.” Jenn defended her, “She’s going to be a big girl soon.” 
“So I see.” I looked back at the puzzle, “I take it she’s not critical?” 
“Not in the least.” Jenn said, “She has no idea what’s happening to me. She has no idea what pregnancy is. But she’s the only one who doesn’t use this baby against me. And she’s fun to play with. She likes to go swimming with her little water wings. I’m always there with her.” 
“It’s motherhood practice.” I said, “You’ll probably need those skills later on in life.” 
“I never thought of it like that.” She said, “I suppose you’re right.” 
“After all, it’s important that you spend time with your family.” I said, “Soon there’ll be college, and then you’ll have your own family. And then you won’t get to see them anymore. Even if you can’t-” 
“What are you doing?!” she interjected. I feared that I had said something wrong. She grabbed the puzzle piece from my hand and held it up in front of my face, “Are you trying to put a piece of the sky in with the rocks?” 
“It’s the top of the rocks.” I smiled, “And it looks like it fits.” 
“It does not!” she teased me. 
“I’ll prove it!” I grabbed the piece from her hand and it fit exactly where I said it would. And, it was the right piece. 
“Well,” she said, “That looks like I was wrong.” 
“Don’t scare me like that next time.” I said. 
“Sorry.” She was obviously sarcastic. 
“Will you just help me?” 
“Do you want my help or don’t you?” she asked. 
“I just said I did!” I said. She was playing around with me. 
“Fine.” She said, “No need to get cross.” 
“Just find the pieces that need to go in the empty spaces.” I said, “It’ll really help.” 
“Don’t tell me what to do!” she laughed as she hit a pillow up against the side of my head. 
“What was that for?” I asked back. 
“For being you!” she laughed back. There was something very special hidden inside that statement. I had no choice but to pause and try and discover what she meant. I avoided eye contact with her, and she with me. I felt a bizarre atmosphere. I looked back at her. She glanced at me wistfully. I smiled back at her. She moved in closer to me. I felt slightly uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to upset her. 
Suddenly I saw I was looking into her eyes, and her into mine. I didn’t know why, I wanted to avoid eye contact altogether, but it just wasn’t possible. Slowly I felt myself moving closer to her. We came so close, that our lips touched, and our eyes closed. She and I kissed, and I had no thoughts at all for the moment. 
______________________________________________ 
Hope this wasn't too much of a shocker for everyone. I try to keep the story interesting, you know?

When I woke up, I noted the clock on my nightstand, which told me that it was still early in the morning, despite the summer morning sun being up already. I felt a throbbing headache, but I knew it would disappear in the next few minutes. The windows were left open so natural light flooded the room. I decided it was too early, and I needed to get more sleep. 
I laid down back in bed and yawned. I stared at the ceiling for a bit, and then shifted over to my side. I pulled the sheets over my head and stretched my arm. I felt my hand go forward, and then press on some mass, that should not be in my bed. After feeling this, I shrieked and fell out of bed. I landed on my backside and dragged the sheets with me. My eyes were totally wide. I looked up at my bed, and I saw Jenn move to the edge and look at me, “Scared?” she asked whimsically. 
“You?” I was astounded. “What are you still doing here?” I was panicking. 
“My Mom wasn’t home.” She said, “I didn’t want to spend the night alone.” 
“Not with me!” I stood up. I was not in the mood for this. “I told you not to stay here!” 
“So what if I did?” she asked me. 
“This is wrong.” I faced away from her, “Why do you do this?” 
“For you.” She said, “I also happened to notice you were alone to. We both wanted company and that’s what we got.” 
“You took company to a whole different level!” I snapped back at her, “Don’t do this!” 
“I’m sorry.” Jenn got out of bed, “I thought it would be okay.” 
“Well, it wasn’t!” I shook my head, “Go downstairs, and get a quick breakfast, and then leave.” 
“What?” she asked, “You wanted this just as much as I did!” 
“You misread some signals!” I had never been as accusatory that much as I was at that exact moment, something sparked within me that let off this blaze of emotion, “I can’t be with you Jenn.” I calmed down. 
“Why not?” she asked me very softly, “Is it because of my age?” 
“That’s exactly it.” I said to her, “It’s just not right.” 
“I’m eighteen.” She told me, with no way of verifying this, “It’s legal.” 
“I don’t care!” I said, “It’s not moral.” I paused and turned my back to her, “I’m sorry Jenn, but I can’t see you anymore.” 
At that moment I knew I made a mistake. I heard whimpering coming from behind me. Jenn was beginning to sob. For a second I thought she was trying to manipulate me, but then I knew that her heart was broken. I was ashamed. “Oh no, Jenn.” I said holding back my own tears. 
I walked over to her. I hugged her. I felt her arms put pressure on my back. We were locked in an embrace for a few seconds. The two of us walked back to the bed, and we sat down. My arm rested over her shoulders and she laid her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.” I said, “We can still be friends.” 
I comforted her, and stroked her long brown silky hair. She continued to sob, “The world’s never been fair to me.” She complained. 
“I know.” I said, “I feel the same way.” I now had complete empathy for her. The world had been unfair to us both, but we just had to manage. 
“I want someone who’s always nice to me.” She breathed out. Her breath was staggering from all the tears. “Someone who empathizes like you. I thought you’d be a match for me, but you can’t…” 
“We can.” I said, “Someday. Someday in the future we’ll both be old enough and age won’t matter. But it’s not kosher right now.” 
“I just wish I didn’t love you so much.” She said. In four weeks, she had fallen madly in love with me. And I with her. Those words echoed in me for a long time. I held her close, for my feelings were real. I was no less upset about what I said than she was. I just managed to stifle my emotion. After only a few minutes, we were still sitting on the bed. I kept stroking her head, and she stroked her pregnant belly. To show her how I felt I gave her a little kiss on the cheek. I could see she blushed at me. She then proceeded to kiss me on the lips just once more. Despite my inner being screaming at me for accepting this, I kept my composure, and let it slide. I never wanted to tell her I loved her, but I showed it to her with what I did. 
And thus, our feelings justly suppressed, we both had a light breakfast, and I waved her off while it was still early in the morning. She told me she wouldn’t be gone for long, but I was afraid I would have to leave before she could return. She went down to her cabin near the beach, and I went back to the same cabin I had occupied myself with for sixteen odd weeks now. 
___________________________________________________ 
This will probably be the last of Jenn for now. I do feel that it's a little bit unnecessary, and I've made my point. Still, it is time for new characters and new adventures so, you can expect that next!

This conversation progressed on for the next twenty minutes. However, Dr. Townsend did have to go home, and he took his machines and left. I, on the other hand, was left with Chuck in his cabin. Luckily the two of us were discussing our thoughts over herbal tea. “I don’t know why you’re unsure.” Chuck said to me as clearly as I can recall, “I think our plan was well-thought out.”
“I’m not sure.” I said, “I’m pretty sure that you made it up on the spot.”
“There was a lot of thinking involved.” Chuck said, “I think it’ll work.”
“For now.” I said, “We’re probably going to get problems in the near-future.”
“That is true.” Chuck admitted, “There will be a few problems. Well, did you hear about what happened in your hometown?”
I winced at the mere thought of it. “Yes. I heard about Rumney.”
“Yeah.” Chuck said, “I don’t expect it’ll be closed for long. When they blocked off the area, they shut down one of the roads into the White Mountains. Now a lot of tourists are mad, and some are suspicious.”
“It’s not like I’m going back there.” I said, “But I hope everyone I knew was okay.”
“There’s something else.” Chuck said. “Did you also hear about the guy? The one who had the…” Chuck couldn’t speak.
“Fetus in his belly?” I finished.
“Yes.” Chuck said, “You heard.”
“And it frightened me.” I said.
“Not as much as it did me.” Chuck said, “I’m the one who operated on him.”
Immediately my head swung around from what I was doing and stared intently at him. “You did what?” I asked fiercely.
“I took the baby out of him.” Chuck said.
“Why you?” I asked, “Wasn’t there anyone else?”
“I was the only one who could.” Chuck said, “I should explain.” Chuck beckoned for me to sit down, indicating this would be a long story. So I obliged him, and started sipping my tea. “I was driving up to Rumney, to make sure everything was okay up there, but I then discovered that the whole area had been blocked off, and the residents were moved to temporary homes miles away. So I went there. When I arrived, I saw tents that were filled with decontamination chambers. I knew something was wrong. I tried to enter the facility, but I was turned away. I showed some proof of my being a surgeon, and then I was told I was needed. The whole place had no surgeon, and there was a man who needed me.”
I yet again sipped from my tea. As I listened to Chuck I determined that this tale might have a sad ending.
“It was night when I was escorted into the facility.” Chuck continued, “The guards did not let me see anyone other than who it was I was to operate on. I had to step into a hazmat suit before I began. I met the man in question, and he was scared. The poor man was trembling and crying. I tried to calm him down, but he wouldn’t. He was scared he was about to die. He told me he had a large tumor on the inside of his stomach, and needed it to be removed. He said it was the radiation. So we started with the surgery. But right before I cut, I noticed on his stomach, he had the same symbol you do.”
I reached down and touched the Crimson Marking. It was more real to me now than ever. “Same marking?” I asked, “Like from the corn?”
“Somewhat.” He said, “Except that this man never grew any corn.”
I paused and thought about it. Was the marking really from the burn? Or was it something underneath.”
“I disregarded this and began the surgery.” Chuck said, “Immediately when I cut through his skin, I knew something was wrong. Instead of there being a tumor, I saw what looked to be an enlarged fleshy pear inside his lower stomach. It looked exactly like a uterus. When I cut that open and reached inside, I ended up shaking hands with a tiny set of fingers on the inside. I drew back in terror, and that’s when I saw his fetus. It was still alive, still getting nutrients from him. But I knew that by the way the placenta was positioned, it never stood a chance.”
“Oh my God.” I said, “Thank you for the gory details.”
“I’m sorry.” Chuck said, “But that’s what happened.”

-- Edited by theKicking on Tuesday 22nd of February 2011 08:06:06 PM