The Armageddon Boy part III: Another Special Child (standard:fantasy, 1674 words) [3/3] show all parts
Author: Frank N. Stine	Added: Jun 28 2002	Views/Reads: 2551/1982	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The third installment of the 'highly' popular Armageddon Boy series - find out why the Shephards needed another child.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Isaac's room with Mr. Shephard not far behind. 

Jacob was still stood watching the pump that had stopped moving and was
now flat.  The machine next to the bed, that had gently beeped 
continuously for months, now rang out with one long sound that reminded 
Mr. Shephard  of the times he had fallen asleep in front of the 
television and woken up to find the service off.  Mrs. Shephard was 
smiling and stroking Isaac's brow. 

'What have you done?' 

A group of nurses and doctors dressed in blue came bursting noisily
through the doors wheeling equipment.  The doctor with them threw up a 
hand to them to wait as he watched Mr. Shephard with interest. 

Without looking up from her son, she muttered: 'I have put our faith in
God.' 

Mr. Shephard stared down at the smiling upturned face of Jacob. 

'Mister Shephard,' the doctor said with concern, 'what shall we do?' 

He was watching Jacob carefully.  The boy was still grinning
mischeivously.  And all about the bed hung loose wires and tubes that 
had once been attached to Isaac.  Was this all part of Jacob's plan?  
To join the family, kill his real son, and replace Isaac in their 
lives? 

'Mister Shephard!' 

He turned to the doctor and his eyes narrowed: 'What do you mean "what
shall we do?"  You're doctors, bring him back!' he snapped. 

'But sir, isn't this exactly what you wanted? - he can be at peace now.'


It had been exactly what Mr. Shephard thought he wanted.  But now he was
thinking of the times he took Isaac to the park, and pushed him on the 
swings.  He was thinking of the day they visited Blackpool for the 
turning on of the Christmas lights, the look of wonder on the small 
boy's face as the streets lit up in phantasmagorical colour.  He was 
thinking of the day he opened the bedroom window just a crack so he 
could have a cigarette without his wife smelling it.  How stupid was 
he?  If only he had closed the window then- 

'Bring him back!' he screamed at the doctors and orderlies, 'or I'll
have your jobs!' 

The doctor nodded and quickly ushered the family into the corridor,
while the medical staff wheeled their machinery into position around 
the bed. 

*                             *                             * 

Cigarette butts were scattered all over the floor where Mr. Shephard had
been pacing.  His secret stash of cancer sticks was out for keeping 
them a secret was the furthest thing from his mind right now. 

'What were you thinking?' his voice echoed, breaking the silence in the
empty corridor that they had experienced since it happened. 

His wife looked up from feeding the baby Jacob, whose eyes were now
closed as he rested his head on her breast. 

'You wouldn't understand,' she said, before standing and handing him the
child.  'I need to go to the ladies room.  Put out that cigarette.' 

He took the baby, carefully, as though touching the boy's skin would
somehow burn his hands.  And, as his wife disappeared around the bend 
in the corridor, he looked into the tiny face. 

Jacob's eyes blinked open lazily, and he looked up at the man holding
him.  Those bright blue pupils were like sapphires, but every now again 
the boy blinked and they appeared black as coal just for a moment. 

Will Isaac go to a better place? he thought of asking the child. 

A weak smile came to the face of his charge.  That depends on how strong
your faith is, he imagined the boy answering him.  Most places are 
better than a hospital bed being tortured by plastic and metal. 

I don't believe in God, admitted the father. 

The child chuckled: Yes you do. 

Mr. Shephard nodded as though it were a real conversation.  And when his
wife returned, he passed the child over and kissed her on the forehead. 
 He turned away and walked to the reception desk.  He now knew what he 
had to do. 

*                            *                          * 

They had managed to resuscitate Isaac, and the plastic pump now slowly
pumped up and down as it had done before..  A gentle regular electronic 
beeping filled the air.  The room now lit with white strip lights, the 
sun long since rested. 

'Are you sure about this now Mister Shephard?' 

He nodded as he stroked Isaac's brow. 

The flick of a switch was followed by the pump falling silent.  The
gentle beeping became one long high pitched siren again, then fell 
silent as that machine was switched off.  Mr. Shephard became aware for 
the first time of the sound of children playing in a nearby nursery, 
their laughter and cries of delight; and of the sounds of cars on a 
distant road. 

'Go home,' he whispered to his boy, Isaac Shephard, his legacy, his son
who he watched fall to absolute peace.  'Go home, Mummy and Daddy will 
be home soon.' 

And he leaned foward to embrace his boy, pressing his lips against his
tiny ear and smelling his hair for the first and last time.  He rested 
his head on the boy's chest and listened to his own heartbeat. 

Bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump... 

He knew beyond a doubt now that he did not have to worry about Isaac. 

...bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump... 

He had gone to a better place. 

...bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump-bump, bump-bump-bump-bump. 

Oh my God! 

He gasped as a chill ran up his spine, and the hairs on his arm tingled.


There were two heartbeats there. 

He bolted upright in his seat and watched Isaac's chest begin to rise
and fall.  He glanced at the plastic pump, but it was static.  
Unmoving.  All of the machines had been switched off. 

Then Isaac frowned and blinked as if awaking from sleep, his brown eyes
caught his father's. 

He smiled.  'Daddy,' he said in a weak, squeaky but unmistakable voice. 
'I wanna go park.' 

Jacob looked on, and smiled in his own strange way. 


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