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R-Factor

by JG Faherty

“R-selected species, such as amphibians, produce many offspring, few of which survive to adulthood. K-selected species, such as humans, invest their reproductive energies in fewer offspring, each of which has a better chance of surviving to adulthood.” – Karl Hannifin, Associate Professor of Biology, University of Miami (2005).

-----

Tracy Sue Baker pointed a dirty finger at the ad in the Locahatchee Gazette. “Ray-Ray, listen to this: ‘If you are a married couple under the age of thirty who has been unable to conceive a baby naturally, you may be right fer our study. Participants who are accepted will receive three hunnert dollars a month, plus free medical care for two years.’”

Tracy Sue slapped the paper down on the stained and cigarette-burned card table, rattling the breakfast dishes. She wiped a sweaty hand across her equally sweaty forehead, pushing her limp hair away from her eyes.
“We’s a married couple and we ain’t thirty yet. An’ three hunnert dollars is more’n you make in a month down to Willie’s these days.”

Ray-Ray shook his head, his long, greasy hair flip-flopping across his face and neck. He never looked up from the car race currently showing on their fifteen inch black and white television.
“Uh, uh. Ain’t no doctor sticking needles in me just so’s you can have a screamin’ shit machine runnin’ ‘round here.”

Tracy Sue clenched her hands, held in a scream. Yelling at Ray-Ray never did any good. You had to go slow and careful with him if you wanted anything.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed two Keystones from the ‘fridge. She handed one to Ray-Ray, then pulled the top back on hers and drank down half the beer in one long gulp. She moved the can to the back of her neck, the cold metal raising goosebumps on her steaming skin.

As far as Tracy Sue was concerned, nothin’ was worse than July in Central Florida, what with the bugs, heat, and the smell of horse shit clinging to Ray-Ray’s sweaty body like mud on a hog. In her head, she was already laying down three crisp hundred dollar bills and walking out of Wal-Mart with two air conditioners for their double-wide.
But Ray-Ray wouldn’t go for that. Instead, she had to reel him in the same way he and his friends did with the catfish down to Kreiger’s Pond.

“You know, with three hunnert dollars we could buy us a new color TV, something big. And you’d have enough left over to get that fishin’ pole you’ve had yer eye on.”

Ray-Ray stayed silent, but she caught the way his left eye squinted down. He’d heard her, all right. And he was already thinkin’ about that new pole.

“And it wouldn’t just be one check. They’d have to pay us the whole time I was pregnant. That’s nine months, Ray-Ray. Nine times three hunnert is...” she tapped a hot-pink fingernail against her beer can as she counted, “more’n twenty-five hunnert bucks!”

Ray-Ray kept silent, but the hook was planted. She got up and headed for the door, figuring he’d need about an hour to let things stew in his head.

Just before she walked out, she looked back and said, “Besides, who says we have to keep the baby after it’s born?”

The screen door swung shut with its rusty squeal, but not before she caught sight of the small smile turning up the corners of his mustache.

Gotchya!

-----

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Baker.” Dr. Karl Hannifin entered the examination room, where Tracy Sue reclined on the cool upholstery of the gynecological table.

She wore a crinkly paper gown and had spent most of the morning with her legs up and spread so Hannifin and what seemed like half the world could peer into her womanly regions, as her mother liked to say. But she didn’t care. They could film a movie in her cootch if they wanted, long as she got to relax in the near-frigid air conditioning of the clinic.

Ray-Ray sat in a nearby chair, thumbing through the latest issue of Bassmaster, turning down the corners of pages advertising fishing gear. Judging from the number of pages he’d marked, you’d think they were lookin’ at three thousand a month.

Of course, she’d heard stories ‘bout how a white baby could fetch twice that much, if you knew where to sell it. And there weren’t nothin’ Ray’s Uncle J-Bird couldn’t fence or hock.

Maybe it was time to have J-Bird over for a few cold ones.

Hannifin waved a clipboard full of papers as he took a seat on a stool next to the table. “We’ve gotten the last of your test results back, and you’re both perfect candidates for our program.”

Ray-Ray smiled and closed his magazine. “So when do we get...”

“Get started?” Tracy Sue interrupted. “We’ve been waiting a long time to be parents.” She’d warned Ray-Ray not to talk about the money, but of course he couldn’t go ten minutes without thinking ‘bout how he was gonna spend ‘his’ cash.

“Uh, yeah, that’s right, Doc. Tracy Sue always wanted herself a big family. House ain’t the same without a few rugrats tearin’ around, ain’t that right?”

Tracy Sue clenched her teeth but kept the smile on her face as Ray-Ray patted her leg with a grimy hand.

“Well, we’ll be getting started as soon as you sign the consent forms. They basically say...”

“Don’t matter what they say, Doc. We trust ya. Give ‘em here.”

Dr. Hannifin smiled and handed the clipboard to Ray-Ray. “Just sign by the ‘X.’ You too, Mrs. Baker.”

Tracy Sue signed her name next to Ray-Ray’s illegible scrawl, then passed the documents back to Hannifin, who peered through his thick glasses at their signatures before placing the clipboard on the counter.

“Excellent.” The doctor’s pudgy apple face beamed as he opened a small refrigerator and took out a tray with fourteen syringes on it.

He picked one up and held it to the light, tapped it, and looked again.

Tracy Sue felt a shiver run up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold air. “Hey, Doc, what are all those shots for?”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Baker.” Hannifin gave a short chuckle, the extra skin of his jowls dancing in time to his laughter. “Just one quick injection. No worse than a flu shot.”

He wiped her arm with an alcohol pad and jabbed the needle in with one quick motion. She never even felt it break the skin.

“Every two weeks you will return here and I will give you one of these shots. This is the fertility drug you have agreed to try in return for your payment.”

“Oh. I thought, I don’t know, it’d be a pill or something.” Tracy Sue looked at her arm, where Hannifin had finished swabbing the site a second time.

“Tracy Sue, you said you’d do anything to have a baby, didn’t ya? A few needles ain’t so bad.” Ray-Ray smiled at her over the magazine. Flecks of Cheez-Curlz from his lunch stood out against the dark of his beard.

Keep smilin', butt-head. That first check is yours, but I got plans for the rest.

“Mr. Baker, don’t think we’ve forgotten you.” Hannifin removed another tray of labeled needles from the refrigerator. The fluid in these was pink instead of clear.

“Whoa, Doc. I gotta get a shot too?” Ray-Ray stepped backwards, until the wall stopped him.

“The fertility treatment requires enhancement of the sperm as well as the ova, Mr. Baker.” Hannifin moved in close, swabbed Ray-Ray’s arm just below the sleeve of his cut-off flannel, and drove the needle home before Ray-Ray could object.

“Hey!”

“Anything for the baby, right, honey?” Tracy Sue made sure to give him an extra big grin.

“Shuddup.” He rubbed his arm and glared at her.

“Now, Mrs. Baker, it’s important that you both return exactly every fourteen days for your shots. You’ll also be getting a complete examination each time, so we can monitor the baby’s growth.”

“What about our money?”

“Er, yes, Mr. Baker. After each appointment, you’ll stop at the front desk and pick up a check for one hundred fifty dollars.”

“Let’s go, then!” Ray-Ray stood up, tucked his magazine into the back pocket of his overalls.

“I gotta get dressed,” she reminded him.

“Well, hurry up. I’ll meet ya out front.” Smiling and whistling, he hurried out of the office.

“Two weeks, Mrs. Baker,” Hannifin gave her a look, as if he thought she was as dumb as Ray-Ray.

“Don’t worry, Doc. We’ll be here.”

-----

Tracy Sue noticed the first changes ten weeks later, right around the time Dr. Hannifin said she would. She hadn’t had any pregnant cravings yet, which she guessed was good, seein’ as they only had fish, beer, and Beef-a-Roni in the house. She supposed she could always go to her momma’s and raid the ‘fridge.

She was getting ready for their trip to the clinic when she caught sight of herself in the bedroom mirror.
A definite bulge had overtaken her previously flat stomach. She ran her hands over it, tracing the gentle curve that began above her belly button and ended just above the Lynyrd Skynyrd tattoo Ray-Ray called his ‘go sign.’
Once a month or so, after a few beers, he’d drag her off the couch and into the bedroom. “Gimme the go sign, baby,” he’d say as he undid her pants, as if his goin’ down on her with his filthy beard and mustache was the highlight of her night.

Now, if she looked straight down, her stomach actually hid the tattoo.

Damn. I’m really pregnant.

She’d seen her momma go through it, with little Janey, and both her sisters had been poppin’ out kids for years. Six reasons right there why she’d always made sure to take her pill every day. She hadn’t exactly found their pregnancies to be attractive. Their sunken eyes, rashes, and mood swings made getting’ knocked up seem a lot less pleasant than on TV.

But now she felt different. Healthy. Happy, even. Maybe it was the vitamins Dr. Hannifin had her taking. Her mirror showed a young girl whose sandy hair had more life, whose cheeks were rosy instead of pale, and who was fillin’ out her bra better than she ever had.

The longer she thought about it, the more she actually wanted this baby.

How could she have ever considered selling it?

When they arrived at the clinic that afternoon, Dr. Hannifin seemed pleased with her progress as well.

“You’re looking excellent, Mrs. Baker. Right on schedule.”

“I don’t know, Doc, she’s gettin’ pretty fat,” Ray-Ray commented as he rolled down his sleeve.

“A healthy baby needs a healthy mother, Mr. Baker. Nutrients, vitamins, balanced meals. A baby can’t grow if it isn’t fed.”

“But I ain’t eatin’ any different,” Tracy Sue said. “And it’s like my stomach just grew overnight.”

“Don’t worry, my dear. You’re just right. There will be even more weight gain as time goes by. We’ll monitor you, and I’ll let you know if you’re gaining too much, or too little.”

That night, lying in the God-blessed air conditioning of the bedroom, watching “American Idol” in color, Tracy Sue felt something move inside her.

That can’t be the baby kicking already. It ain’t even three months yet.

She thought about calling Ray-Ray in from the living room, where he was busy finishing off the last of the Kentucky Fried they’d bought on the way home.

Then she heard him belch as he popped open another can of Busch and turned on the ball game.

Maybe later.

By the time Ray-Ray came to bed, the movement had stopped and she’d forgotten about it. She lay in the darkness, pretending to be asleep as he arranged himself next to her. The September night had even grown cool enough that she’d turned off the A/C and opened the windows.

She fell asleep to the soothing lullaby of bellowing ‘gators and the chirps, grunts, and peeps of the frogs from the nearby swamp.

The sounds of home.

-----

“Doc, this ain’t right.” Tracy Sue complained as Hannifin prepared to slide the ultrasound wand over her belly. “I’m like some kinda whale. I musta gained fifty pounds already.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Baker. You’re right where you should be for your third trimester. Your excessive weight gain is mostly water retention due to the fertility treatments. Once you have the baby, you’ll lose the weight so quickly you won’t believe it.”

Dr. Hannifin positioned the monitor away from Tracy Sue and pressed the wand against her distended stomach. The speakers emitted the wah-wah sound she recognized from the medical shows on TV.

“Excellent. The baby is just fine.”

He made some notes in his charts and then closed the folder. “There’s one more thing we need to discuss. Sometime in the next two to four weeks, probably the third week in April, you will be going into labor. When you do, I want you to call me immediately. Do not go to your local hospital, or call 911.”

Tracy Sue nodded as she wiped away cold jelly with the paper towels he handed her.

He passed her a business card. “Call this number, day or night. I will dispatch a special ambulance to bring you here, so we can monitor the birth.”

Something in Hannifin’s tone of voice set off an alarm in Tracy Sue.

He wants to take your baby.

Now why would she think that? But try as she might, she couldn’t get the thought out of her head.

No one is going to touch my baby!

“Sure, Doc. We’ll call.” Tracy Sue forced herself to smile, and shoved the card in the back pocket of her pink terrycloth shorts.

“This is most important, Ms. Baker. The moment you feel the first contractions, call me immediately.”

Over my dead body.

The words almost jumped out of her mouth, and she had to clench her teeth to keep quiet.

Why this sudden protectiveness?

With a quick nod, Tracy Sue brushed past him and out of the office.

-----

“Something’s wrong, Doctor.” Gail Grady watched through the window as Mr. Baker hurried across the parking lot to catch up with his wife.

“You may be right.” Karl Hannifin joined the nurse at the polarized glass. “Mrs. Baker seemed unusually nervous today.”

“You don’t think the serum was too strong, do you?”

“Highly unlikely. The genetic material and hormones were calculated specifically for their body weights.”

“What are you going to do if they don’t come in for the birthing?”

“We’ll just have to make sure they do. Starting tonight, I’m going to have two men watching them at all times. As soon as she exhibits any sign of going into labor, our team will bring them here.”

“What if someone sees?”

Hannifin drew down the blind, cutting off the sight of the Bakers driving off in their decrepit Dodge. “One of the reasons we chose them was for the remoteness of their living arrangements. I’m certain my men can escort them away from a trailer in the swamplands without any fuss.”

-----

“Damn if I ain’t hungry again,” Ray-Ray complained. Dressed in his usual after-dinner attire of stained Jockey shorts and matching wife-beater t-shirt, he was staring into the refrigerator. Only a case of Busch beer stared back at him from the otherwise empty shelves.

Spotlighted in the dim glow from of the refrigerator’s bulb, his long hair, straggly beard, and hairy chest made her think of cave men digging for food.

Tracy Sue ran her hands down her body, let them linger over the medicine ball of her belly. Under the skin, the baby kicked and punched. It seemed like it was always active now.

One hand drifted lower, pulled at the string of her sweatpants. She was suddenly hot. Sweat coated her body, even with the air conditioning set at sixty-seven.

Hannifin had told her she might experience hot flashes or muscle aches as her due date drew closer. But this was more than hot flashes.

She pulled down her sweat pants, kicked them to the floor. Her blouse, practically wet under the arms, followed. Naked, she lay back against the rough material of the cushions and let the air conditioning blow across her skin.

A wet, musky odor wafted up to her, and she realized it came from her.

From between her legs.

“Jesus, Tracy Sue. Watch’ya doin?” Ray-Ray stood by the TV, a can of beer in one hand.

“Somethin’ don’t feel right. I’m all hot, and the baby’s kicking like a ‘possum in a garbage can.”

“What the hell’s that jizz comin’ outta ya? Is you supposed to do that?”

Tracy Sue stuck a hand between her legs. Sticky, thick fluids coated her fingers. He held her hand up. In the light of the TV, glistening, slimy strings hung from her fingers.

Another kick, this time so strong she actually saw the skin bulge out for a moment.

“It’s time, the baby’s comin’.”

“Well, call the doctor, then.”

“No. I don’t want him near it.” She thought he’d get mad, but he nodded.

Having it in the trailer didn’t seem right either, though. It should be...

Outside.

The swamp.

The sudden need was overwhelming. Tracy Sue heaved her body from the couch and pushed Ray-Ray to the side in her haste to feel mud and water under her feet. She cradled her super-sized belly as she ran through the tall grass and scrub brush that separated the back of their property from Hangman’s Swamp.

Warm heat, heavy breathing, and man-odor told her that Ray-Ray had joined her, but she paid him little attention.
She had to reach the swamp before it was too late.

-----

Karl Hannifin’s cell phone danced and vibrated in his pocket just as he was getting into his Lexus.

“Hannifin.”

“Doctor, this is Timmons. Something weird is going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the two of them just ran out of the trailer buck naked, and took off into the scrub.”

It can’t be...

“What’s back there?”

“Far as I know, nuthin’ but swamp that eventually butts up against Lake Okeechobee.”

“Follow them. I should be there in less than an hour.”

No time to get his medical team together. He’d have to handle this himself. Timmons and his partner could help.
Hannifin jammed the key into the ignition, filled the still night air with the sound of grinding metal as he held it in the start position too long.

This can’t be happening. The dosage shouldn’t have been strong enough to activate any instinctive responses.

Moments later he was doing twice the speed limit as he headed south on 721.

-----

“Christ almighty. What the fuck are those two doing?”

Satch Timmons knelt on the damp ground next to Larry “Red” Reynolds. Through the intervening clumps of waist-high grass they had a clear view of Tracy Sue and Ray-Ray Baker, who at the moment were moving back and forth through the muck at the edge of Hangman’s Swamp. Coated in black ooze, Tracy Sue looked for all the world like the amateur mud wrestlers at the titty bars.

“Damned if I know,” Red whispered. “If they wasn’t naked, I’d say they’re looking for somethin’. But the girl sounds like she’s in pain.”

Satch listened to the moans coming from the pregnant woman as she splashed in the muddy shallows, Ray-Ray following behind her.

“Who lets their pregnant wife walk naked in a swamp? That’s just...wait, my phone’s buzzin’.”

Timmons drew his cell phone out and flipped it open. “Timmons.” He listened for a moment, then spoke. “From the back of the trailer go straight into the brush. Walk about ten minutes. You’ll hear ‘em way before you see ‘em. Just stay low.” He closed the phone.

“Hannifin?” Red asked.

“Yeah. He’s at the trailer.”

“Good. Sooner he gets here, the better. This whole thing’s startin’ to creep me out.” Red jerked a thumb towards the swamp, where Tracy Sue had gone down on all fours and started digging in the mud about ten feet from shore.

-----

Timmons was right, thought Karl Hannifin as he approached the swamp. Even from thirty yards away, the guttural shouts and splashing water were clearly audible. The April air held a definite chill, and the wild scents of sulfur, decaying plant matter, and stagnant water were overlaid with a musky aroma that was all too familiar.

I’m too late. Unless I can bring them back to shore, they’ll complete the ritual in the swamp.

Hannifin caught sight of Timmons and Reynolds to his left, but ignored them. There was no need to hide from the Bakers; in fact, it was essential that they see him.

He emerged from the scrub grass at the edge of the swamp. Setting down the two Styrofoam containers he carried, Hannifin called out, “Mr. and Mrs. Baker! Please, listen to me. It’s most urgent.”

Out in the water, Tracy Sue stopped digging and looked up. Ray-Ray stood behind her, spatters of mud from his wife’s activity spotting his body.

Hannifin aimed his flashlight at the couple.

“What’s goin’ on, Doc?” Timmons and Reynolds had emerged from their hiding place in the grass, both of their flashlights adding to the visibility.

Before Hannifin could answer, Tracy Sue shook a fist at the three men.

“Doc, you stay the hell away from me! You ain’t gettin’ my baby.”

“There is no baby, Mrs. Baker. At least not yet. Please, come out of the water and I’ll explain everything.”

“You’re lyin’! You jus’ want my baby.”

“No, Mrs. Baker, I just want you to give birth in the clinic, where I can document everything. If you leave your eggs here, I’ll never be able to...”

“Eggs? What the hell are you...”

The rest of her sentence was lost in an agonized scream. Tracy Sue doubled over in a fetal position, then rolled over onto her back, the shallow water not even covering her lower body.

Ray-Ray waded forward to help, calling her name. All Tracy Sue could do was moan and shake her head.

“Doctor, we gotta do something.” Reynolds started towards the water, his freckles standing out against pale skin like pepper on a napkin.

Hannifin stopped him. “It’s too late. Here, take one of these.” He handed the man one of the coolers. “All we can do is try to get some of the samples back to the lab.”

“Samples?” The man took the container but didn’t move.

“Just go!” Hannifin began forcing his way through the muck towards the moaning woman. “You’ll know when it happens.”

Hannifin was still six feet away from Tracy Sue when she arched her back and spread her legs as far as they would go.

From between the swollen lips of her vagina a stream of grayish, thick mucus streamed out. The long, irregular strands curled into a globular shape at her feet. Round, pearly-white objects, each the size of a marble, hung suspended throughout the mass. As more and more material exited, her stomach grew smaller and smaller.

“Oh, God!” Reynolds dropped his cooler and turned away to vomit.

“No! I need those eggs!” Hannifin increased his pace towards Tracy Sue.

Just as he reached her side, a heavy force knocked him sideways into the water. He cleared his eyes and found Ray-Ray Baker standing between him and Tracy Sue.

“Sorry, Doc, can’t let you no closer.” Ray-Ray held his fists out and ready.

Hannifin scrambled forward and pushed into Ray-Ray’s legs, knocking the other man into the water, then crawled past him. He tried to scoop up the eggs, using the lid to guide the mass forward.

Sudden pain made him drop the container as Ray-Ray grabbed his arm and bent it backwards at the elbow. The wooden sound of breaking bone echoed across the swamp. Hannifin tried to scream, but it turned into a gurgle as Ray-Ray thrust his head under the water.

As his vision faded away, he faintly heard Tracy Sue calling out, “Don’t let them touch my babies!”

-----

In the three weeks since giving birth, Tracy Sue had been living on the rotted flesh of Dr. Hannifin and his assistants.

Ray-Ray brought her hunks of meat each day so she wouldn’t have to leave the eggs.

Now, beneath their semi-transparent coatings of protective jelly, the embryos had reached a state of almost constant activity.

It was beginning.

Inside the sticky sac, her babies burst free from their eggs. The thick jelly slowed their escape, and Tracy Sue gently broke the mass apart, opening it up so the young ones could enter the world.

One by one, the miniature forms pushed their way out into the water and swam away, tiny arms and legs pumping furiously as the babies made their way into the safety of the deeper water.

Tracy Sue smiled. The girls all had her blonde hair and skinny bodies; the boys were duplicates of their father, down to their little beards and mustaches.

In a week, maybe two, they’d grow large enough to join their parents at the trailer.

In the meantime, she was starting to feel very horny.

On the beach, Ray-Ray waited for her, hard and ready.