ENTER: BARBARA, sitting at a bus stop. It's late in the morning. At increasingly frequent intervals, she turns to look at the motel. It's been a little over an hour since she checked out on BOB's instructions, and she's worried. No bus has arrived as of yet, but she's not even sure if she has the money to pay for a ticket. Fidgeting, she stands, one hand pressing against the small of her back as she stretches, and removes her spectacles to pinch the bridge of her nose before squinting into the distance. The desert seems impenetrable. There's nothing around for dozens of miles. She swallows, folding her arms, and runs her tongue over her lips. Her mouth is dry, and she's too nervous to trot back to the motel to purchase a bottle of water. She's back where she started.

<How do you move so quickly?>
>As I have said, there is very little dividing within from without, given the correct perspective.

The silhouette of a white car appears in the distance. Despite knowing that it is not a bus, BARBARA sticks her arm out and waves frantically. The car rolls to a halt. Inside, there is a blonde man wearing a polo tee and a pair of sunglasses. His face is clear and unlined. He could be anywhere between twenty and fifty.

MAN: Good morning.
BARBARA, nervously: Good morning.
MAN: I guess you're looking for a ride.
BARBARA: I am.
MAN: Where are you going?
BARBARA: Um. Away?

The MAN laughs.

MAN: How about I buy you a meal, then? Let's get to know each other.

BARBARA thinks about it. Behind her, a scream rises from the motel. The MAN glances over her shoulder, brows furrowed, and BARBARA makes a split-second decision.

BARBARA: Yes. Yes, please.
MAN: Come on in, then.

BARBARA enters the car. The MAN guns the engine, and away they go. Thanks to her experience in HAROLD's truck, BARBARA manages to put on her seatbelt after only one or two false starts. After a few minutes, they pass a number of police cars driving in the opposite direction. BARBARA watches them go.

<Bob, what did you do?>
>Do you truly wish to know?

BARBARA coughs. The MAN glances at her, smiling, and opens the glove compartment, startling a gasp out of BARBARA.

MAN: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to let you know that there's a spare bottle of water in the glove compartment.
BARBARA: O-oh. It's fine.
MAN: Please, drink.

BARBARA nods. As she breaks the seal, the MAN continues to drive. She works her way through the bottle as he turns up the volume on the radio. Neither of them speak for a while.

MAN: I'm Herbert. Herbert Crumb.
BARBARA: Bridget. Bridget S-Stevens.
HERBERT: Hello, Bridget. It's nice to meet you.
BARBARA: Likewise.

CUT TO: BARBARA and HERBERT sitting in a small, out-of-the-way restaurant. HERBERT is nursing a black coffee. Opposite him, BARBARA is working her way through a pile of pancakes, an iced chocolate at her elbow. The restaurant is half-full, and the soft murmur of conversation is faintly audible.

HERBERT: So, Bridget, what brings you here?
BARBARA, mouth full: I'm sorry?
HERBERT, gesturing vaguely: I mean... here. In this situation. You must be past-due. You don't have to tell me, by the way. I don't mean to pry.
BARBARA, swallowing: Um. I don't really...
HERBERT, smiling reassuringly: That's fine. Don't worry. Is anyone looking for you?
BARBARA: I don't know. I think so. I mean, there's probably some people looking for me, but...

A truck rumbles by. A few patrons look up as it passes. HERBERT turns, as does BARBARA.

HERBERT: Look at 'em go. The National Guard. They started mobilizing in one or two states, but the exercise has expanded to cover the entirety of the lower forty-eight. 

He scoffs.

HERBERT: Some "exercise". Bullshit. Federal overreach is what it is. Tyrannical government in a nutshell. What a fucking mess.

BARBARA nods mutely. HERBERT turns to look at her.

HERBERT: Now, I don't mean to pry, but it seems to me that you're in a bit of a situation. Do your leggings even have pockets?

BARBARA looks down at herself. She's wearing the maternity smock and leggings that PATRICIA gave her. Her leggings do, indeed, have pockets. One of said pockets contains a wad of cash plucked from HAROLD and PATRICIA's wallets. She has less than twenty dollars.

BARBARA: Um. They do.
HERBERT, patiently: Yes, but is there anything else that you have apart from the money in your pocket and the clothes on your back? Do you even have a credit card?
BARBARA: A credit card?
HERBERT: Yes, a credit card.
BARBARA, pretending she knows what a credit card is: I don't have a credit card.
HERBERT: Like I said, a right pickle.

HERBERT laughs.

HERBERT: How about this, Bridget? After you're done with your pancakes, we'll go shopping. Get you some vitamins and some proper clothes. Have you ever been to a shopping mall before?

BARBARA doesn't say anything. HERBERT smiles knowingly. He's a very smiley person.

CUT TO: BARBARA and HERBERT in a maternity store. HERBERT is half a head taller than her. It is brightly lit; mannequins line the walls, frozen in various poses. BARBARA stares out the window at the people passing, and turns to see a STORE CLERK approaching them. She has what would be typically referred to as a Karen haircut.

STORE CLERK: Hi! Can I help you?
HERBERT: Hello. We're here to pick up some clothes.
STORE CLERK: Of course! Please, come with me.

She leads them down an aisle. BARBARA's head spins. She's never been in a mall before, and she's very disoriented. HERBERT bends down to whisper in her ear, his breath warm.

HERBERT: Now, I just want to clear something with you first, Bridget. If anyone asks how you're related to me, I'll say that we're married. I don't want to be accused of being a kidnapper, after all. Does that sound good?

BARBARA blinks.

BARBARA: Um. Okay.
HERBERT: Wonderful.

HERBERT takes BARBARA's hand in his and smiles as she starts in surprise. He does not let go. After a few seconds, BARBARA relaxes slightly.

HERBERT: There we go.

The STORE CLERK leads BARBARA into a changing-room and takes her measurements. Gingerly, BARBARA strips down.

STORE CLERK: My, you've been wearing this for a while, haven't you?
BARBARA: Um.
STORE CLERK: These are darling garments, but I must say that I haven't seen their style in almost two decades.
BARBARA, thinking intently: Actually... what's today's date?

The STORE CLERK tells her. BARBARA almost falls over.

<How long?>

BOB does not reply.

After the STORE CLERK is done, she leads BARBARA out to HERBERT and brings them around the store, talking at length about various types of maternity wear. A number of other items are brought up, ranging from nursing bras to strollers to diaper-bags.

STORE CLERK: ... by the way, when are you due?
BARBARA: Um.
HERBERT: Not for a while yet.
STORE CLERK: My gosh, then you must be having multiples. Congratulations!
HERBERT: Thank you.

He's enjoying this.

CUT TO: BARBARA, sitting in HERBERT's car. Her hair has been tied in a loose ponytail. There are a few bags in the backseat. She is staring out the window as they drive along a gravel road that cuts through an apple orchard.

HERBERT: It's just me at the house. My parents owned this orchard, and they passed it down to me when they went. Of course, I maintain the orchard on my own, and it brings in enough money to... well. I'm comfortable. Let's just put it at that.
BARBARA: I see.
HERBERT: I own some land in the nearby town, too. I'm invested in that mall that we just stopped by at. How was lunch, by the way?
BARBARA: It was... it was good.
HERBERT: Good. I'm glad.

HERBERT's hand moves to BARBARA's thigh. BARBARA stiffens.

HERBERT: I'm sorry. Is this bothering you?
BARBARA: N-no.

HERBERT removes his hand. BARBARA stares as a large house comes into focus. It's a mansion, really. A bungalow. Built in a Georgian style, its bricks are so dark that they are almost black to look at. All of the curtains are drawn. The sun is setting.

HERBERT: It's not much, but it's something.
BARBARA: It's beautiful.
HERBERT: Is it? I'm glad you think so. Fourteen rooms.

The car enters an open garage beside the mansion and rolls to a stop. HERBERT opens the door, gets out, and opens the door for BARBARA, who struggles out, one hand on the small of her back and the other resting on the shelf of her stomach as she squints up at the house. As she stands there, HERBERT removes the bags in the backseat.

HERBERT: My keys are in my pocket. You'll have to help me take them out.
BARBARA: O-oh.

Carefully, BARBARA sticks one hand in HERBERT's pocket and removes a keyring.

HERBERT: The largest key.

BARBARA unlocks the door and begins to bend over to unlace her boots.

HERBERT: Allow me.

HERBERT disappears into the house, then reappears, the bags have been placed elsewhere. Then, he bends down to unlace BARBARA's boots, pulling them off one by one. BARBARA follows him in, looking around. It is dimly-lit. If she'd ever been in a museum, she'd find the scent on the air familiar.

HERBERT: We'll have to get you some new shoes. And some socks.
BARBARA: Really, it's fine...
HERBERT: Nonsense. I insist.

HERBERT brings her upstairs and into a bedroom. As she looks on, he lays a set of clothes across the bed before arranging various toiletries inside the bathroom.

HERBERT: Make yourself at home.
BARBARA: Thank you.

CUT TO: BARBARA in the shower. She has removed her smock, her leggings, and her stinky socks. She stands, head tilted upwards, as a jet of hot water cascades over her naked body, washing away the grime and the sweat. There is a small camera affixed to the ceiling, hidden in what appears to be a small malformation in the tiling.

CUT TO: HERBERT in his office, seated behind a large desktop. His pants are undone as he watches through the camera. On the screen, BARBARA squeezes a large dollop of shower gel onto her hand and begins to lather her body. Frank Sinatra's "I've Got You Under My Skin" is playing softly from a nearby gramophone.

CUT TO: BARBARA and HERBERT sitting at a large table. It is massive and almost empty; HERBERT, dressed in a neatly-pressed shirt and a pair of trousers, occupies the head, while BARBARA sits at his right elbow. She is wearing a purple sleepshirt: a shirtlike garment that falls to mid-thigh. Her hair is loose. HERBERT has laid out quite a spread: steak, pasta, half a turkey, mashed potatoes, mushroom soup. BARBARA eats her fill. HERBERT watches.

HERBERT: It's fine if you can't finish. I have a freezer.
BARBARA: Thank you.

They finish eating and retire to the salon, a warmly-lit room blanketed in lush rugs and with several long couches. HERBERT sits beside BARBARA. There is a carafe of mulled wine on the table, and a tumbler of the same in his hand. Beside it, the clothes that he bought for BARBARA are laid out across the table. HERBERT's arm is around BARBARA's shoulders.

HERBERT: Let's see. Tomorrow, we'll have to bring you for a checkup. I'm no expert, but it seems to me that you don't seem to be in danger of going into labour tonight. Correct me if I'm wrong.
BARBARA: Um. No. I don't think that's going to happen.
HERBERT: Wonderful. Socks, of course, and shoes. And if you want to beautify your room a little, well, that's fine by me.
BARBARA: You're going to let me stay?
HERBERT: Of course. Why wouldn't I? It gets awfully lonely here, especially in winter. I rarely get visitors. It would be wonderful to have someone to... keep me company.

HERBERT moves his hand to rest on BARBARA's thigh. BARBARA is not rigid, but she is stiff.

HERBERT: There's no need to be afraid, Bridget. I haven't harmed you, have I? Haven't laid a finger on you in anger. Not once. Not... once.

HERBERT begins to rub her thigh. BARBARA draws in a shuddering breath as he removes her spectacles carefully and sets them down on the table beside his half-empty tumbler of mulled wine.

HERBERT: You see those clothes?
BARBARA, nearly inaudible: Yes.
HERBERT: You see that one? The filmy one? Put that on.
BARBARA: I...
HERBERT, voice hard: Now.

Shaken, BARBARA stands up and changes out of her sleepshirt into the item of clothing. It is a lacy, gauzy maternity babydoll, giving way at the front to display the enormous swell of her midsection. She wears it over her bra: another thing purchased today by HERBERT for her.

HERBERT: Come here.

BARBARA walks towards him. Her heart jerks in her chest. The warm light of the chandelier reflects off her brown hair.

<Bob? Are you there?>

There is no response. As she nears the couch, HERBERT reaches out and pulls her onto his lap. She falls with a gasp. Something is pressing against her arse. HERBERT sniffs her neck and runs his hands over her arms as BARBARA whimpers involuntarily.

HERBERT: You're beautiful, you know that?
BARBARA, softly: Please... please.
HERBERT, breathing raggedly: I'm going to treat you well. Better than you've ever been treated. I don't need to use protection, do I? You're already... ripe.

He pauses, shaking his head vigourously. A vein pulses in BARBARA's temple. She's coiled tight, like a spring, and she's squeezed her eyes shut. She tries to pull away, but HERBERT's grip tightens. He is breathing heavily.

HERBERT: What the...
BARBARA: Please.
HERBERT: You some sort of freak? Even better. Whoever's looking for you oughta pay a pretty penny. I won't report you if you don't resist.

<Bob?>

Abruptly, HERBERT cups BARBARA's breast and heaves her onto the couch beside him. He kisses her roughly on the mouth. BARBARA is shaking.

<Bob. Bob, I need you.>

HERBERT squeezes BARBARA's breast. He squints at it. There is alcohol on his breath.

HERBERT: Huh. Thought there'd be milk or somethin'.

<Bob, please.>

As HERBERT goes in for another, longer kiss, BARBARA's nose begins to bleed. At the exact same time, HERBERT's head snaps back. His grip on her arm disappears. BARBARA jumps to her feet and starts to run. HERBERT turns to look at her, reeling. His expression is dazed but furious.

HERBERT: You bitch.

BARBARA lurches out into the hall, still in her babydoll. The mound of her belly bounces slightly as she trots down the corridor, fumbling blindly in darkness. HERBERT's heavy footfalls sound behind her. She turns, sending another telekinetic projectile in his direction, and hears him grunt as it lands, but he's ready for it, and his steps slow only briefly.

HERBERT, roaring: YOU FUCKING BITCH.

A steady stream of blood is leaking from BARBARA's nose. A spray of crimson mars the gauzy fabric of her babydoll, dotting her cleavage, dribbling down her flanks. Adrenalin pumps through her body as the muscles in her thighs and calves tighten deliberately; she's optimizing her body for speed. She hits the door, scrambling for the knob, and opens it, stumbling down the steps.

BARBARA, sobbing as she pants: Bob? Bob, please, help. Help.

HERBERT thuds down the steps behind her as she darts over the gravel. Her legs are not long. BARBARA draws in a deep breath.

BARBARA, screaming: HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY -

She manages to cover a quarter of the total length of the gravel road before HERBERT catches her. He grasps BARBARA on the shoulder, wrenching her around to face him, and backhands her viciously. He winces as another telekinetic blow grazes his skull. BARBARA makes a high keening sound.

HERBERT, breathing heavily: The nearest neighbour is a half-mile away. No one can hear you.

He forces her to her knees, roughly dismantling her babydoll, and tears off her lingerie as the gravel scrapes her knees. BARBARA tries to launch more attacks, but they barely faze HERBERT. He's a big man, and strong. Her breasts flop into view, illuminated by the moonlight. HERBERT backhands her again. BARBARA's nose is now broken in addition to bleeding profusely. Her eyes are red. Her face is flushed.

HERBERT: Look what you've made me do.

HERBERT backhands her again and grabs at her breasts roughly, shifting her such that he is on top. As he bends down to force his mouth against hers, his hands gravitate lower, from her chest to her stomach. As his hand sweeps over her flanks, it stops, caught fast. He looks down, surprised, pulling away. BARBARA looks down, too. Her stomach, previously a warm, heavy sphere, is criss-crossed with what appears to be black veins. Although night has fallen, they are darker than dark, seeming to absorb even the moonlight shining down from above. They are pulsating.

HERBERT: What the...

The black veins seem to wriggle like worms beneath BARBARA's skin, concentrating on the outline of HERBERT's palm on her stomach. HERBERT tries to pull away, but his hand is stuck fast. As BARBARA watches, he begins to spasm, his body twisting and writhing above her. There are several wet-sounding noises emanating from his chest as his internal organs rupture one by one. Something is twisting about inside him, rattling his ribcage. His shirt and trousers are wet with blood. Before BARBARA's eyes, HERBERT's eyeballs liquefy and his jaw crumples in on itself. His skin blackens. The ruin of his mouth flaps like a dying fish. Various undifferentiated bodily fluids drip harmlessly off BARBARA's skin, melting into the gravel around her, sizzling. The stench of brimstone fills the cold, still air.

BOB: LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU.

His voice is emanating from the bubbling wasteland of HERBERT's head. HERBERT's body has been reduced to little more than a bloated corpse swathed in soiled clothing, yet it remains strangely upright, suspended on invisible strings. BARBARA looks up at him, panting.

BOB: YOU ARE LIKE A DOE. A DEER. A FEMALE DEER.

The sound of bones cracking echoes off the gravel and is absorbed by the trees. BOB is laughing.

HERBERT's body slips clumsily off of BARBARA's supine form as she sits upright, palms pressing into the gravel as she looks down at her belly. The only intact part of HERBERT's body is his hand, which is still splayed across her stomach. It is linked to the spasming corpse-thing beside her by a thin tendril of putrefaction. As she stares, the tendril pulsates in time to her heartbeat. She is hyperventilating.

BOB: INNOCENT. IT WILL SUFFICE.
BARBARA, sobbing: Please... please...
BOB: I WILL HAVE TO BE MORE SUBTLE NEXT TIME.

HERBERT's hand dissolves into a fine cloud of grey dust. The dissolution spreads, reducing HERBERT's body to nothingness in a matter of seconds. Only a stomach-turning stain and a set of soiled clothing remains of him. BARBARA hugs herself. 

<Please. Take me to the library.>
>It is your decision.

CUT TO: BARBARA in a library. She's sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Her stomach is flat, and she's wearing her sweater-vest, the one that she discarded so long ago beside a nameless country road. She is still shaking. She tilts sideways onto the carpet and starts to cry. Outside, the void howls silently.

CUT TO: BARBARA, rising smoothly to her feet. Apart from her low-rise maternity panties, she is completely naked. The ruins of her babydoll and bra are splattered with bits of HERBERT and draped in his clothes. Her face is blank, and her hands hang loosely at her sides. As the moonlight reflects off her blank, unblinking eyes, her broken nose creaks and twists back into shape. The gravel shifts, burying HERBERT and his remains. She rises into the air and drifts into the house. The door shuts behind her.

CUT TO: A wide shot of HERBERT's house. Night has fallen. All is silent.