Episode 7: Afterbirth: Season Finale Part 1

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Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day scratchers from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly, must be 18 years or older to purchase play or claim.

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I want

these hills

to leave these dark valleys

For I can't stay now in the lands unknown

Then these

hills up

I will walk so often

I can feel the winds now on your ghost.

Barlow, Kentucky,

1917.

The night before Sarah Avery

ran.

The house was emptier without the boys in it.

That much was for sure.

Carol Ann Avery,

wife of Pinky and mother to Sarah, sat on her front porch and looked out at the darkening yard.

Old Number Seven had claimed the father of her child and the closest thing to a papa that child would ever have.

And here she was, left alone on the side of this mountain by this smelly old creek, knowing

it was just a matter of time.

It was beginning

or ending,

depending on how you looked at it.

Either way, she shouldn't have to wait too long.

She'd seen the mass graves that old fool Cletus Garvin and his nonsense-talking loonies had dug with the help of the Union boys.

She'd seen what was left of them city boys they barely bothered to sift out of the rubble.

She saw bones.

She saw blood.

She foresaw fire.

She knew what a burnt offering looked like when she saw one.

Tonight of all nights, she had sent Sarah to stay with her friends, the Callaways.

She needed a night to herself in this house to settle all the old ghosts

and the new ones that might come.

Carol Ann Avery,

formerly Carol Ann Walker from Tourniquet, West Virginia, a town even smaller and dirtier than Barlow, so named because it was meant to stop the bleeding, the exodus of failed settlements and mines from that area, and rightly named because all it did was cause the amputation of the very same things, had come to Barlow with her new husband and full belly 10 years ago.

Pinky, a kind but cowardly man, had thought thought he was delivering his bride and babe to be to the promised land of milk and honey, when in reality, he was just settling them down to live in the shadow of his servitude to the deep dark mines of Kentucky coal.

Now life in Tourniquet had been hard.

As a woman trying to live, you either knew how to sell or you knew how to be sold.

And the Walker girls weren't anyone's property.

Carol Ann was one of seven sisters, a litter born to an iron-spined, never-married mama who never had to sell the house they lived and worked out of.

She had built the prosperous enterprise she held in those cold hills and did her best to see her girls go on to better and safer lives.

Life was what it was and you did what you had to do in the now.

Tourniquet was two saloons, a brothel and a half, and a graveyard that was running out of room.

Where the town sat in the West Virginia mountains, coal should be abundant.

But strangely, mine after mine had petered out.

Company after company folded or sold.

Money was drying up like a mud puddle on an August afternoon and Carol Ann's mama saw the writing on the wall and doubled down on getting her girls out and either into better houses if they wanted to stay working or into their own houses to be married off if they didn't.

Carol Ann's mama had moved the other six Walker girls out just fine.

Two weddings, two relocations, one midnight departure that was a bit unexpected, and one brand new parlor house opening, leaving only Carol Ann behind.

So calling in one last favor, Sheila Walker introduced her daughter to a favorite regular customer of her own.

named Eddie Avery.

Now, Eddie was not to be her patron or customer.

Eddie did want to help, though.

Eddie was moving to Kentucky to work for BNL and had a nephew who was young, dumb, and full of hope for the future.

It didn't hurt that he was sweet and kind and had a strong back.

He took one look at Carol Ann and you might as well have just tattooed her name on his forehead right there.

He was in love, brother, and how.

Now, Pinky never had to know that Uncle Eddie paid for his first date date with Carol Ann, though he'd never have to pay for another.

Before long, Carol Ann was looking at him with those same goo-goo eyes and had a swelling tummy, and there was a ring on order from the Sears catalog.

On their wedding day, Carol Ann's mommy had said, well, there goes the last Walker gal.

To which Pinky had sweetly, yet stupidly replied,

No, ma'am.

That there's the first new Avery girl.

Never mind, that didn't make no sense.

It was sweet in the moment.

And Sarah was born two months after they set up house in Barlow.

Uncle Eddie had a little money set aside and made sure they didn't have to live in no shotgun house down in the main camp town, instead buying a lot for cash and setting up on the side of the mountain over in Goshen Creek.

Eddie was a good man, and he never saw Carol Ann as anything other than Sheila's littlest.

He also never got over Carol Ann's mamma not coming with him.

He couldn't know she was sick nor how little time she had left.

And when word comes she'd been put in the ground right after Sarah was born, well,

he didn't speak for a week.

But Edgar Avery swore that after that, though, he'd take care of Sheila Walker's little girl and now her little girl, even if it killed him.

And after all this time, it looked like it finally had.

They'd not found Pinky or Eddie's bodies, and Carol Ann didn't think anyone ever would.

But when she saw the weird little man in the long coat come to the edge of their yard,

she knew it had begun.

Her mama had warned her when she found out she was pregnant.

See, she was one of seven sisters, born from one of seven sisters.

She knew her mama kept stores of nettles and herbs and could brew up a cup that could take a bun out of the oven just as gently as it could.

And she knew her mama didn't take to no church and not just because of the whorein', Sheila Walker kept ways that most decent men wouldn't understand.

See, she knew her mama had dreams they could set their watch by in terms of coming true.

She knew her mama could look at a customer and know if he meant harm, and she was never ever wrong about that.

She never questioned the nights her mama had her and her sisters sipping milk with chamomile mixed in when they were little to help with good dreams, she'd promise.

They'd never say the word,

but they knew what their mama was.

She knew what her little sisters Ellie and Marcy were, too.

And word had it that if you needed an empty belly or a man gone over in Bakers Gap, Tennessee, Marcy Walker was the one to see, just so you know.

Carolyn's mama had told her that her daughter would more than likely bear gifts.

Now she might not, since Carolyn herself had never really shown much in the way of promise.

That gift might be saving itself up to skip a generation, and that would draw attention from the wrong places.

So when Sarah Avery came screaming into the world, Carolyn made sure she was attended by her two closest sisters.

Marcy would know what to do with what came out with the baby, know where to bury it, charms to say to protect child and mama alike.

But Ellie would know the more secret words that would bind Carol Ann of what small shimmerings of a gift she might possess to protecting her daughter in the case of her death.

She always thought of it as a just-in-case,

but here it was.

She knew the little man

could not nor would not be able to enter their yard.

Her little sister Ellie's other job while she was here had involved small mason jars and iron nails.

And even though her little sister was miles away in Esau County, She knew those lines would hold.

And hell on top of that, a tiny trickle of the creek itself broke off to form the north property line of the Avery homestead.

And if this was anything like what her mama had warned her about, that little line of running water would hold better than any hand-turned craft.

The distance between the edge of the yard and the porch might have been 15 feet, but Carol Ann could see the stranger.

A short, skinny man dressed in boss's clothes, black boots and slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a long, strange black overcoat.

The man stood stock still like he was holding a pose to be painted.

It was like he was trying to stand how he thought a man was supposed to stand, and that weird overcoat flapping and twitching, despite there not being a bit of breeze.

Miss Avery,

he droned.

His voice sounded like a mouthful of wasps.

His tongue swollen and uncertain as though words were something he'd only recently discovered.

He had thin, cracked lips and pale skin flushed from the exertion of the walk up the path to the house.

Ms.

Avery,

he repeated.

My name is Ignatius Combs.

I am with B ⁇ L Mineral Resources.

I am here to offer you our condolences on the death of your husband, Pinkerton.

Carol Ann almost laughed.

She hadn't heard Pinky's given name since their wedding day.

She held her tongue, though.

Her mama had taught her, you never give nothing away, especially your name.

You are Carol Avery,

are you not?

Carol Ann said nothing, and the little man went on.

Ms.

Avery,

are you aware you are entitled to a substantial payout for your husband's passing?

That he died in a rescue attempt in an effort to protect company assets.

And BNL are very grateful for his sacrifice.

He paused, consulting a sheet of yellow paper, and then continued, Edgar Avery, it seems, was also a resident here, was he not?

And it seems he was the actual deed holder as well.

Unfortunately, his beneficiaries are no longer living,

and he has never redirected his will to anyone that we could reach.

Carol Ann wasn't paying attention to the man's droning, buzzing voice.

She was watching his blotchy face

because things were moving under his skin.

Long, segmented shapes pressed from beneath his cheekbones and chin, bulged his lips, flared his nostrils.

Somehow she knew that his eyes were a dull green with burst blood vessels staining the whites.

He looked like he was straining himself to stay upright.

Like if he blinked or breathed wrong, he'd just deflate and whatever was moving under his skin would just come pouring out and the idea made Carol Ann almost vomit and faint at the same time.

What was he?

He was the beginning.

That's what he was.

Miss Avery,

if you would invite us in,

I would be glad glad to sign over the check so that you and your daughter could live more comfortably.

Alternatively, BNL would be happy to relocate you someplace much safer to thank you for your husband's years of

service.

His words seemed to distort more and more as he rambled on, his eyes pleading for her to interrupt him, to ask a question, to let him not have to speak.

Caroline let him sweat.

His breathing became more rapid, the squirming under his skin more pronounced.

Miss Avery, please,

let us come in and help in this trying time.

Carol Ann could hold her tongue no more.

Us, she laughed.

You got a mouse in your pocket there, sonny boy?

Miss Avery, if you could just send the check in the mail if you have one to send, she said and turned back into the house.

That is not an option, she heard the man say.

There are protocols in situations like these.

Carol Ann stepped off the porch as she rounded on the man, temper flaring patience and caution all run out my husband is dead the closest thing i ever knowed to a daddy is dead and your money ain't gonna bring him back miss avery

please

we have resources you do not

Do not make this any more difficult than it has to be.

Let us make this easy for you.

Get off my land, you weird little vulture.

Ignatius Combs sighed resignedly and held up his yellow sheet of paper that was covered with tiny print.

You aren't listening, Miss Avery.

When Pinkerton's uncle Edgar passed, his assets were liquidated so a cash payment could be made to his listed beneficiaries.

But none of them, including Miss Sheila Walker, could be found living.

So this land was sold.

We purchased it.

So I'm afraid you have no leverage in this situation.

And with that, the man raised his hand in a casual wave, and Carol Ann felt all sense of safety vanish.

In fact,

the narrow branch of Goshen Creek that blocked the little man's path stopped,

parted like in the Bible,

and he stepped across towards her.

His strange, swelling, and shifting face, never changing expression despite the swarm of activity under his skin.

Carol Ann began to scream Sarah's name and warning, forgetting in the moment that her child was away and safe.

But then there was a blur of motion near the corner of the house, and everything went black.

Carol Ann woke up under the tree in the corner of the front yard.

The big one where they'd buried the old dog that had come with Pinky and Ed to Barlow.

The one Pinky had carved their names into the day they moved in.

And the place where Carol Ann's sister had buried the afterbirth on the day Sarah was born.

She felt the rope around her neck.

It was good hemp and strong.

She felt weak and muddle-headed.

Something was in the house.

She could hear furniture breaking, animals growling and roaring, and she thought of Sarah.

But before she could try to speak, Ignatius Combs was right in her face.

The skin on his own, a nightmare of unnatural movement and stretched and strained tissue.

She could count the segments of the worm that squirmed under his left eye.

This wasn't as hard as she said it would be.

I could do this all day, couldn't I?

The odd little man flexed his hands and swung his arms like he was trying to break in the strange overcoat he wore.

Nothing to you monkeys

at all.

Nothing so hard.

Someone or something out of her line of vision started pulling on the rope, and she began rising into the air.

The hemp fibers biting into her soft skin, her airways suddenly constricted as her body sought breath that would not come.

This is what they do with witches in this place.

Yes.

Not so much of a witch, you are.

But we'll choke you,

choke you until you are soft and blue and very good to eat.

Carol Ann's vision was fading.

Her skin indeed turning blue.

ignatius clombs's skin was doing the same he breathed in deep and sighed in pleasure

there we are boys

not much in you but some

Carol Ann's last sight was two massive things

blinking into existence.

One emerging from the house, covered in feathers from her good-down comforter, the other digging up the yard, massive creatures, their skin the same shade of blue as her dying face.

If only we had more time,

or you were more

filling.

But I suppose we must be merciful, or at least efficient.

Goodbye, Miss Avery.

Carol Ann's body lifted into the air and the noose slackened for a second as some supernatural force pulled her skyward and then let her fall,

snapping the rope taut and breaking her neck cleanly.

The effect of the charm was immediate.

As Carol Ann's body slumped into the shape and state Annie Messer would one day discover her in, a wave of pure blinding force radiated from her like a sonic boom.

The ground where the leavens of her daughter's birth had been buried erupted in fire and wind, the soil become an Atari slurry, both explosions converged on Ignatius Combs, blasting his skull into a small ocean of icker and pus.

Blind white worms that screamed with the voices of children flew from that shattered face as finger-length scarlet wasps with the faces of eyeless rats burst from his gut.

This primordial chum of venom and burned bile splattered the yard.

The quantity so great it filled the tracks and holes of the beast with a hazy mustard-brown sewage, swimming with the larvae of the dread wasps.

The parents of these infant abominations, blind and rat-headed, wilted into ash, unprepared for worlds outside of their host's body.

So there was some mercy in them.

The screaming white worms splattered into the ruined Avery living space through the shattered windows and began slowly, blindly trying to find each other as if to knit the ruptured little man back together, but found themselves stuck like flypaper to the cursed mud that had erupted from the earth.

Carol Ann's body swung in its death song, breathless and cooling.

I wish I could tell you she was there to look down and watch as our world stretched and pulled apart the abomination of the swarm that had lived inside of Ignatius' cones.

But those who die like Carol Ann died.

Like Pinky died, like Eddie died.

If I told you they were in a better place,

I'd be lying to you, family.

Best not to dwell on it.

There is a curse upon my everywhere,

and

I cannot escape,

darling.

Hey, family, thank you for coming back with me into the past one more time.

The story from this point on moves forward, I promise.

But as I crafted this week's missive and planned it out, there was one soul that just needed her story told.

The mother of Sarah Avery wasn't a faceless, sad woman who couldn't go on.

No disrespect to those who can't go on.

Sometimes you just can't.

But Caroline needed her story told and she was heavy on my heart until it got told and even though Sarah might not ever know what her mama done you do

that means something

don't you think

we got three more pieces to go family

hold on tight

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Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game, Day Scratches from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question: play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly, must be 18 years or older to purchase, play, or claim.