Right Arm In.

Mason and Kiara decided at the very start to refer to the item they were selling as parts. This works fine for general conversation and deep down it had a comforting effect allowing them to not struggle too much with their consciousness. They were not psychopaths or mentally disturbed, they were just normal people adapting to an extraordinary way of thinking.

They bought the babies from hospitals, clinics, and even directly from Mothers who decided they wanted a late-term abortion but could not foot the bill. Something that was never spoken about and unheard of all of a sudden was everywhere, for them at least.

They have been operating only for a few months, there were some issues but with a little bit of physical convincing, they were seeing eye to eye with all involved. Except for the one guy, due to the swelling, it was taken on faith that he is now seeing eye to eye with them.

_{Read the prequel}

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     Mason walked sullenly down the dark road home, he still lived in the same wretched neighbourhood after all the years. Almost 20 years it has been since it all changed, yet he felt unchanged. He felt frozen in a moment of grief a perpetual moment of hunger feeding on his regret and sorrow.

He looked up. His gaze now fixated down the road towards his approaching house, he has long since moved out of the basement which he still referred to as "the base" and started living in the main house. It was dilapidated and just plain unsafe. Even if the roof fell in on him he would not mind. In fact, such thoughts of a fatal accident would always bring a smile to his face.

He did not have electricity and rarely even bothered burning candles for light. No, at night he sat in darkness and drank what he had to drink until passing out and starting the routine all over. Go to his minimum wage job, buy enough to sustain himself until the next day then, drink, sleep and do it all again.

Mason smiled to himself with a little bit of pride, because the one thing he just could not do was sit at home unemployed. He had an uncanny way of just always having a job. He thought to himself that without a job he would not be able to even afford his wretched routine.

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     Absent mindedly Mason poured himself another drink, holding his finger inside the glass to indicate when he has poured enough he mused at the little things he does to maintain a semblance of civility. He did not really need a glass for the piss he was drinking and felt that on some level it was an insult to the glass.

Mason lit a smoke and got comfortable in his spot on the floor, he used to have a chair but it broke and his old bones could not risk too many falls like that. His lifestyle keeps him alive but only barely, and although he was only on the verge of fifty he moved and felt as though he was a hundred.

Staring up through the large hole in his ceiling he looked at the stars the smoke coming off of his cigarette momentarily blinding him, he removed it from his lips and pushed up against the wall while ashing in the same movement. He took another drag and thought about the few stars. Too many damn industries he swore under his breath.

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    Mason woke up startled. Still facing his view to the darkness outside he could have sworn he saw two very bright stars disappear in a moment. "Planes maybe?" he thought. "No. Not planes. Eyes."

He shivered at the thought and sat back against the wall in his stooped sleeping position. Fading back to sleep his mind replayed his greatest hits.

He ghostly moved through the period where things were going well, observed the times where things went a bit wrong but he and Kiara always found a way. The memory reel slowed down the closer it came to the final days. Mason watched himself enter a dark room in what seemed to be a normal office building, Kiara stayed at the base and he alone was to meet their only client.

They called him The Witchdoctor, seeing as that was the name for all the medicine men and woman Mason thought nothing of it. He and Kiara knew they used the babies for some cultural reason, mostly.

Entering the room he knew what he was going to see, somehow it was déjà vu yet it still took him by surprise. The door had closed behind him he waited in the darkness just long enough to find he could hear breathing. Then there was light, it spilt from eyes staring at him, staring through him.

He had a thought, but it was not his own, it was not his voice. The dream shifted, "No!"Mason moaned in his sleepy stupor. Before him now was Kiara, on the cold floor of the basement. She was breathing heavy her eyes fixed on him. She had just given birth, there was another person there but Mason dared not break his gaze with Kiara. The other man was there to collect.

Everything had been fine for months, with only one or two deliveries coming short of the target total. The meeting with The Witchdoctor was to affirm the importance of the latest order and the requirement to deliver on schedule. Before that day they have never been allowed to see or even speak via phone with him and always dealt with an intermediary.

The meeting did what it was supposed to do, both Mason and Kiara knew that failure was not an option. The order? Just one child. In comparison they have been able to deliver up to 10 babies a month to The Witchdoctor, there were more they could deliver but they would rather go slow and steady than be greedy. The Withdoctor was fine with the arrangement and even with only ten some months, it was a close call. There were a few prerequisites surrounding the circumstances of the babies death but mostly it was all straight forward and did not limit the scope too much. The last order, however, was for only one child, and it quickly became apparent that even one might be one too many.

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    Kiara looked up at him wanting to hold her crying child and yet he kept the child from her. The man that was sent to collect kept his gun trained on her and Mason coddling the baby in his arms sensed unease in him but he knew no matter what had to be done this man would not fail in his task. Somehow he knew that this man, this man threatening Kiara's life now was deathly afraid of the consequences and for reasons Mason did not understand he felt that same fear.

Maintaining the hopeful stare of Kiara he said to her, "My love if we do not give him the child then he is going to kill you and I. He will take the child and our lives will be lost. There is no need for that." He immediately knew he should not have said that last part but the fight had been drained from her and she did not retort a single syllable. She merely feebly raised her hands to hold her child.

Mason pulled back slightly to indicate he was not handing the child to her, their captor lost his patience. "Just do it, man, The Doc needs the delivery before midnight. Do it or I will kill you," the man rumbled at Mason. The child has stopped crying this seemed to lessen Kiara's distress a little, causing Mason to feel just a bit of relief his gaze still locked to her, even while conversing with this brute of a man his concern was solely with Kiara.

It felt like hours passing by, Kiara covered in sweat feebly sitting on the floor pressed against the wall, the gunman looming over them both as Mason stood on his knees between Kiara's spread legs, a bloody baby in a bloody towel held in his arms seemingly safe from all dangers. Then after a fleeting eternity, he placed the baby down on the ground, told the man he needed to cut the umbilical cord and proceeded to get scissors.

Never looking away from Kiara apart from the split second it took him to open the drawer and get what he needed. That split second was all she needed to realise that she could hold her child now. She leaned forward and he quickened his step to beat her but he was too late. Her fingers already grazed the child skin and she pulled back just a second. Discounting the cold mucky feeling to be just blood and she reached to hold her child finally. She leaned back coddling the baby looking down at the silent little angel.

Mason let her be for a moment, he cut the cord then put his hand on her shoulder, "He is gone, my love." he said this in the softest and most earnest tone that he hoped would solidify this fact for her. She looked up at him and her eyes gave away that she did not understand. Slowly she took her hand from the towel and stroked her childs face, she felt that cold mucky feeling like the last bit of milk from cereal left behind and allowed to sour during the day.

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