The Incubus, Succubus and Son of Perdition Box Set: The Len du Randt Bundle (4 page)

Both Justin and
Rebecca murmured their thanks.

Doctor Taylor
then asked a few routine questions and worked out the baby’s expected due date.
Taking the information from the form that Rebecca filled out, she calculated
the baby to arrive shortly before Christmas. She then asked Rebecca to change
into a robe, after which she led the couple to a smaller adjacent room with a
reclining hospital bed inside.

The first thing
Justin saw when he entered the room was the bed. Then he noticed the strange
equipment next to the bed that consisted mainly of a strange looking monitor
and keyboard, and finally he noticed the massive painting against the side
wall. The painting was an elegant one of a pregnant woman. Inside the woman’s
womb the viewer could see the baby, upside down and fully formed. Ready to be
born.

Rebecca lay down
on the bed and drew a blanket over her legs.

Justin could
sense that she was just as nervous as he was. Doctor Taylor produced a long
white plastic tube that reminded Justin of an electric toothbrush.

Doctor Taylor
lubricated the tube and her hand disappeared underneath the thin blanket. A few
seconds later, something moved on the screen. ‘That’s the Amniotic sac,’ she explained
as she pointed to a black spot on the screen.

‘Where’s the
baby?’ Justin asked.

‘The foetus
won’t be visible at this stage,’ she said. ‘We gauge the age by measuring the
sac itself.’ She clicked on one end of the black spot and again on the other
end. She then pressed a button, and the machine responded with a
beep
and a printout of the spot. After a few seconds, she pressed the button again,
and another photo appeared.

‘All right, you
can get dressed now,’ she told Rebecca and then allowed the couple a moment
alone before meeting them at her desk again. ‘So far everything appears to be
fine,’ she said and handed them one of the printouts. She stapled the other
printout to her notes, which she kept in a file.

‘How old is the
baby?’ Rebecca asked shyly.

‘Five weeks, and
one day,’ the doctor said. I’m giving you a repeat prescription for vitamins
that I would like you to take once, daily. I would also like you to go into the
hospital after confirming your next appointment with my secretary, and have the
Pathologist test your blood for cholesterol, iron, blood type, and immunity
against Rubella.’

Rebecca
flinched. She didn’t like the idea of being prodded with needles again, but her
joy about the pregnancy overshadowed her fear of needles.

Doctor Taylor
wrote a letter that Rebecca had to deliver to the Pathology department. ‘To
minimize morning sickness,’ she said, ‘you could eat dry fruit or biscuits
before you get out of bed, and break your meals into smaller portions spread
out during the course of the day.’

Justin made
mental notes as Doctor Taylor made more suggestions. They then left the office
and made another appointment at the reception desk. After fifteen minutes at
the Pathology department, the dumbstruck couple headed for their car; their
lives, for better or worse, irrevocably changed in the course of a single hour.

Simon inhaled deeply. He loved the
fresh smell of early morning air. There was a certain sense of purity in the
early morning breeze that one wouldn’t find after the rush-hour smog.

Coffee
, Simon thought.
That’s what I’ll start my day with.

It was his day
off and he wanted to savour every moment of it. ‘Where to begin,’ he said as he
looked in both directions up and down the road. He figured that he would get
started with a fresh cup of coffee and a muffin at a local coffee shop. From
there it would be a movie followed by a few hours’ worth of reading in the
park.
The mall then
, he thought.
It’s closer to the movie theatres.

‘Good morning,’
he greeted a jogger. She frowned and side-stepped him before jogging away
without returning the greeting.

It’s sad what
this world has come to
, Simon thought,
that two
strangers simply couldn’t greet each other anymore.

He took another
deep breath and continued his stroll down the sidewalk. Simon wondered how many
people stopped for a moment to admire the beauty in a few golden rays of
sunlight as it passed through the leaves of overhead trees. He wondered how
many people even stopped to notice the cheerful chirping of the birds as they
announced the birth of a new day. At street level, rush-hour traffic was slowly
building up. Simon just shook his head at the expressionless faces in the cars
that drove past him.

Solomon was
right. All this is truly a pursuit of wind; a mad rush for nothing.

Even though he
too was part of the proverbial “rat race,” he never considered himself to be
one of the rats. Simon only did what he did for a living in order to pay the
bills at the end of the month. He found greater satisfaction in the smaller things
in life. He especially loved helping people. The real pleasure was in changing
lives; especially when they weren’t aware of it. It was the thrill of seeing
people’s lives altered for better that motivated and drove him. He never once
considered a financial award for what he did, and would never accept any if
ever offered. In a way, he felt like a super hero: Mild mannered computer geek
at day; defender of the innocents at night.

Simon chuckled.
Defender
of the innocents. Yeah right.

He continued his
stroll toward the mall at a lazy pace, soaking in the beauty of his
surroundings. When he reached a small patch of flowers, Simon stopped. He
hunched down next to the flowers and picked one.

‘Samantha,’ he
said as he smelled the flower.

Rolling the
little stem of the flower between his thumb and forefinger, Simon stood up and
continued walking.

*    -    -   
-    *

‘
I hate you!
’
the girl screamed at her stepfather as loud as she could manage.

‘Don’t you raise
your voice at me, young lady,’ the man shouted back. ‘Just do as you’re told!’

‘You’re not my
boss! You’re not my father!’

With that, she
stormed from the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

‘Go on, you
tramp,’ her stepfather hollered at the closed door. ‘See if I care. See if
anybody cares.’ He took a swig of his bottle of cheap brandy. ‘Nobody cares
about you! You hear?’ The stepfather grunted and fell down onto the couch. A
few minutes later he was fast asleep and snoring loudly.

*    -    -   
-    *

The slamming
door made Simon look up. A teenage girl walked from one of the cut-and-paste
houses down the road to the steps leading down to the street and sat down. She
covered her face in her hands and shook as she sobbed loudly.

Simon wondered
if he should approach her. Something in him urged him to.

‘I hate him,’
she sobbed as Simon walked closer. ‘I hate that man.’

Simon hunched
down in front of the girl. She looked up and forced herself to stop crying—as
if embarrassed to be crying at her age—and wiped at her face with her sleeve.

Simon just
smiled at the girl. She didn’t say anything; didn’t know what to say to a
stranger that just walked up to her and smiled without saying a word.

‘He doesn’t mean
the things he says,’ Simon said. ‘He’s been hurt and wounded in his past and it
affects the way he treats people today. He can’t help it.’

‘What?’ The girl
asked. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your
stepfather.’

The girl
frowned. She searched her memory for where she might have met this man before,
but drew a blank. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know what you’re talking
about.’

‘You hate it
when he orders you around as if though he’s your father, right?’

The girl didn’t
say anything. Her eyes remained locked onto his.

‘You’re sick of
being treated like a nobody, and the only way out at this moment for you
appears to be suicide.’

She couldn’t
hide the shocked expression on her face. ‘Who…who are you?’ The girl asked.
‘How do you know these things?’

Simon shrugged.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I just do.’ He then smiled. ‘My name is Simon.’

The girl sniffed
and wiped at the sticky tears drying on her cheek. ‘Why do you care?’ she
asked. ‘Why should anyone care?’

‘I care because
God cares,’ Simon said. ‘He loves you more than you could ever comprehend,’

‘God doesn’t
love me,’ she said. ‘If He did, He would never have put
that
man in my
life.’

‘God loves
all
people,’ Simon said with a calm and soothing voice. ‘Including him. He didn’t
put your stepfather in your life. He put
you
in your stepfather’s life.’

The girl didn’t
say anything. She didn’t have to. Simon could see from the look in her eyes
that she understood.

‘You are the one
who will ultimately make a change in that man’s life, for better or for worse.
It’s up to you to decide which.’

The girl broke
eye contact and looked down at her thin hands. ‘But who will be there for
me
?’

‘God looks over
you,’ Simon said and held up the flower. He gave it a little whirl with his
fingers. ‘He created this flower just for you, Samantha.’

The girl held
her hand to her mouth. ‘How did you know my name...?’

‘I don’t know,’
Simon shrugged and smiled. He handed her the flower. ‘I just do.’

She just sat
there for a moment, lost in deep thought. ‘What do I do?’ she finally asked.
‘Where do I start?’

‘Start with
yourself,’ Simon answered. ‘Forgiveness is the key. You have to forgive
yourself and then forgive him. Also forgive your mother and your biological
father.’

‘And then?’

‘Then the
healing can begin. Teach your stepfather how to forgive those who wronged him
in the past.’

Samantha weighed
his words. Finally her face lit up. This stranger knew her name. He knew about
her stepfather. He also knew that she wanted to commit suicide. She figured
that the least she could do was listen to his advice. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said
and stood up. ‘I’ll do what you suggested.’

Simon smiled and
also stood up. He was much taller than the teenage girl that stood on the steps
in front of him.

‘Thank you,
Simon,’ she said and her lips pulled into a smile. She finally had a purpose in
life; a goal. Samantha then turned and ran back to the house. She glanced from
the door and smiled once more at Simon before closing it.

Simon took
another deep whiff of air before continuing his stroll to the coffee shop.

*    -    -   
-    *

‘We’re going to
be parents,’ Justin said, still unable to believe the words leaving his mouth.
‘I…I’m going to be a father.’

Rebecca forced a
smile. She didn’t know whether Justin was happy or unhappy about the fact that
they were having a baby. She always wanted children, but Justin was dead set
against it until—according to him—the time was “right”. She figured it was his
way of politely saying, “forget about it.”

‘I guess we have
to celebrate,’ he said as they left the hospital. ‘How about I treat you to
something to drink?’

‘That sounds
great,’ Rebecca said and held up her hand. ‘No alcohol though.’

‘Definitely
not,’ Justin said, trying to sound as light hearted as he could manage. ‘No
alcohol or caffeine.’

‘No coffee?’
Rebecca asked and made a sad face.

‘No coffee for
the mommy,’ Justin said and hugged her. ‘Doctor’s orders.’ He wrapped his arm
around her waist and pulled her closer to him. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We’ll get you
something nice.’

*    -    -   
-    *

Simon stirred
his coffee slowly. He wondered how things would turn out in Samantha’s
household.

Samantha
, he thought and a shiver crawled down his spine.
How did I know
her name?
How did I know about her personal problems?
He sipped at
his coffee and thought back to many similar incidents in the past where he just
somehow
knew
certain things about people without knowing
how
he
knew it.

There was the
lady with the missing dog
, Simon thought and
chuckled.
There was the husband who had lost his wife to cancer. And then
there was the missing girl; Lucy.

A few weeks ago,
Simon had an urge to knock on the door of a certain house that he had never
seen or been to before. He found out that the daughter of the couple living
there had disappeared without a trace three days earlier. Somehow Simon just
knew
where they could find her. The father’s brother had taken the nine-year old and
had locked her up in his basement. The idea was to collect ransom for the girl
before returning her to her parents. All parties involved were highly
emotional. The parents were disgusted because a trusted relative would kidnap
their daughter. Simon was bewildered because he had some sort of universal
knowledge that he was not supposed to possess. Over time, he learned to embrace
his “gift” and just go with it. Sometimes something would happen that still
managed to surprise even him, but he realized that the more he listened and
acted upon his instincts, the stronger it became.

‘Spot,’ a man
said from the table behind Simon. ‘We’ll call it spot for now.’

A woman giggled.

‘How much longer
until we see something other than a black spot on the sonars?’ the man asked.

‘About two more
weeks,’ the woman said softly.

Simon smiled.
The miracle of new life always made him feel good inside.

There was a
moment of silence before the man spoke again. His voice was softer now; more
concerned. ‘We’ll get through this, baby, you’ll see.’

‘I know,’ the
woman said. ‘I’m just a little worried about our finances. That’s all.’

More silence.

‘We’ll be fine,’
the man tried to re-assure her. ‘I’ll try extra hard to get a job this week. I
mean, how hard can it be to get a job in the computer industry with my
qualifications?’

The couple
finished their drinks while discussing their financial concerns and how to
break the news to their families. When they finally paid the waitress, they
stood up to leave. It was when they walked past Simon that he gently took hold
of the man’s arm.

‘Excuse me,
Justin,’ Simon said. ‘Am I right in saying that you’re looking for a job in the
computer industry?’

The man looked
at Simon with a puzzled expression. ‘Yes...?’ he said reluctantly. ‘I’m sorry,
but do I know you?’

Simon smiled.
‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard your
conversation. Congratulations by the way.’

‘Erm…Thank you,’
Justin said and shook Simon’s hand.

‘I tell you
what,’ Simon said. ‘Give me your contact details, and I’ll pass it along to my
employer. As far as I know, we are looking for more technicians at the moment.’

Justin looked at
his wife. She merely smiled, but the look in her eyes and the nod of her head
made it crystal clear that he should give his details to the stranger.

Justin borrowed
a pen from a waitress and scribbled his details on a piece of scrap paper. He
handed it to Simon. ‘Thank you,’ he said, unable to hide the bemused tone in
his voice. ‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name.’

‘It’s Simon.’

‘Thank you,
Simon.’

The two men
shook hands again and, still baffled, Justin and his wife left the coffee shop.