The Gaping Void

he nurse pushed Catrina Holdaway’s wheelchair slowly out the door. Her husband, Paul, lifted her gently out of the chair and eased her into their tiny, steel blue car.

“How are you feeling, Cat?” he asked. Cat shifted in her seat and moaned. “Sorry,” Paul said regretfully. “Stupid question. How should you feel, after all you went through? Well, don’t worry. We’ll stop at the pharmacy on the way home. The doctor prescribed some painkillers and something to help you sleep. In a few more days, you’ll be just fine. Until then, I’ll stay home from work and help you out. Whatever you need. Just get better, OK?”

“Ugh.” Cat closed her eyes, in too much pain to speak.

Three weeks later, Paul and Cat sat in their living room, watching the news. Their small, black projection unit buzzed quietly. It was an older model that couldn’t create a hologram much wider than six feet.

The image of a bubbly, redheaded reporter was describing the aftermath of an earthquake. She was new to television, and hadn’t learned to act properly upset by natural disasters. “And in other news,” she said, “A local woman has received the world’s first wholly artificial digestive system.”

“Do you want to hear this?” Paul asked his wife. “I could turn it off…”

“No, leave it on. I want to see what they say about me.”

“Last year, Catrina Holdaway came down with a rare form of stomach cancer called Colamarino’s Disease. This condition is highly resistant to chemotherapy and usually spreads to the large and small intestines. Despite the odds against success, Mrs. Holdaway opted to receive chemotherapy anyway. After months of treatment with no results, her digestive system began to fail. Her husband, through research on the internet, had come across a team of scientists and medical doctors in India that were developing new artificial organs. After a discussion with his wife, she volunteered to test the new inventions. The organs were shipped to America, and surgery took place a few days later. In the three weeks since the surgery, Mr. and Mrs. Holdaway have refused all requests for interviews. However, their doctors tell us that Catrina has made a rapid recovery and is doing just fine. And now, in entertainment news…”

Cat laughed. “Yeah, just fine. Except now I have to keep injecting myself with stomach acid and my pee is bright green. Other than that…”

Paul put his arm around Cat and pulled her close. “Come on, Honey. It could have been a lot worse. In the old days, the most they could have done is given you a colostomy bag. Refilling your stomach with acid is a lot better than carrying around a fanny pack full of – well, you know.

Cat laid her head on Paul’s shoulder. “I guess I have got it pretty good.” Whispering, she added, “Switch it to the sunset channel…” The image changed into a fiery, orange and pink sky. It was beautiful, but Paul was too busy with other things to notice.

Six months later, Cat stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. “I can finally do it,” she said to herself. “I can throw away this damn wig.” She pulled off the mass of artificial, blonde hair and tossed it into the wastebasket. “Hair’s still mighty short… But it’ll look good with earrings.” Cat found some gold hoops Paul had given her for Christmas, and returned to the mirror. Her boyish cut and freckled cheeks made her look much younger than twenty-five.

Cat opened her closet and took out her medical kit. Inside were some syringes and a bottle of digestive acid. She filled a syringe and pulled up her shirt. The doctors had implanted an access tube to her stomach, so she could refill it with artificial digestive acid and enzymes. The end of the tube was concealed in her navel. Cat stuck the needle into the tube and smiled. “I must be the only person in the world with a bellybutton that actually does something!”

The chore completed, Cat finished dressing and put on some lipstick. A few minutes later, for the first time in weeks, she left the house. Her illness had drained their finances, so Paul and Cat had decided to put off their plans to have children. For the time being, she would have to focus on her career.

Cat called a cab and headed downtown. Her first stop was at a long strip of stores, the “outdoor mall.” She found an information kiosk and pressed the button marked “job openings.” After perusing the list, she selected a handful of stores to send her information. She pressed her thumb on the scanner plate and entered her password. The kiosk accessed Cat’s files and automatically transmitted her resume.

After a few more stops, Cat decided to stop for Indian food. “Before the surgery,” she thought, “I couldn’t eat this stuff without getting a tummy ache. Now I can eat anything. The doctors said their fake enzymes could practically digest cement.”

An hour later, Cat left the restaurant and waved at cab. It just kept going. “Damn, occupied.”

Someone grabbed her sleeve. A burley man in a torn sweater was holding on to her shirt and staring. He pulled out a tiny, portable scanner plate. “Lady,” he growled, “I traveled two hundred miles to see my mom, and now I don’t have enough gas to get back home. Can you thumb me a few bucks?”

Cat pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry, my account’s on empty right now. There’s a short-term loan place near here; why don’t you-” The man punched Cat in the stomach and grabbed her purse. Cat fell to the ground, gasping for air. The man ran across the street, stopping to dig through her purse. He jammed Cat’s phone into his pocket and threw her purse into the street.

After the man left, Cat picked up her things and headed back to the restaurant. She used their payphone to send for a taxi. There was no point in calling the police; there were far too many murders for them to worry about muggings. But then, Cat would have called the police if she knew what the man had broken.

Back at home, Cat stood in front of her mirror, looking at the bruise on her abdomen. “Can’t let Paul see this,” she thought. “He’s so overprotective; he might want me to start carrying a stun wand or something. I should cover it with makeup. No point in making him worry.”

Inside Cat’s stomach, the sensor chip was confused. It remembered detecting a normal food intake, but now it felt dangerously full. It decided to have the acid chamber digest everything. Minutes later, Cat’s stomach was empty.

“Oh, I’m starving!” she thought. “That’s weird… Lunch was only twenty minutes ago.” Cat walked into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese. Twenty minutes later, she put her dishes in the sink and sat down to watch some television.

The sensor chip was disgusted. What was this woman’s problem? Was she eating competitively now? The sensor chip emptied her stomach again.

The transmitter chip received another “empty” signal, the second time in forty minutes. Why won’t this woman eat? The transmitter chip sent another hunger signal, much stronger than the last.

“Oh, I’m still hungry! That soup just isn’t filling… I think I’ll have that leftover meatloaf.” She stood in front of the microwave and waited. It was taking forever! She ate some chocolate chips and two bananas, and finally it was ready.

Fifteen minutes later, Cat wiped the catsup from her mouth and walked back into the living room. The sensor chip emptied her stomach again. Can’t have the woman burst a seam!

Moments later, the transmitter chip received yet another “empty” signal. It decided that its alerts simply weren’t getting through to the brain. Maybe the woman was asleep? It decided to send a signal strong enough to wake her up.

“Oh, hell. Something must be wrong with my stomach. I should call the doctor… No, can’t. My phone’s gone! I can’t even call a cab to take me there.” She chewed on a fingernail and considered her options. “Alright, have to go to the neighbors to use their phone. Sure, I’ll do that. After I have a little something to eat.”

Cat finished the bag of chocolate chips and the rest of the bananas. She threw the peels in the garbage and then headed outside, walking to the neighbors. Their doorbell played the first few notes from Beethoven’s Ninth. Moments later, a man in a black bathrobe answered.

“What?”

“Oh, hi,” Cat said awkwardly. “I’m Cat Holdaway; I live next door. I was wondering if I could use your phone. It’s an emergency.”

“Yeah, I guess. Come on in.” The man led Cat into the kitchen, where an infant in blue overalls was waiting patiently in his highchair. “I was just about to feed my son lunch. Have a seat at the table and I’ll go find my cell phone.” The man walked into the other room, leaving Cat alone at the kitchen table. There was a bottle of milk and several jars of baby food on the table, next to a small spoon. The baby was gazing longingly at the jar marked “apple dessert.”

The sensor chip sparked and sputtered. Was this woman eating rocks? If only it could call for help instead of just emptying her stomach one more time!

“Oh,” Cat thought, “I’m so hungry! I wish that guy would get back with the phone already.” She gnawed her lip nervously, drawing blood. Frustrated, she turned to the baby in the highchair. “You don’t need all these jars, do you?”

The man returned a few moments later, toying with the buttons on a tiny cell phone. “Sorry that took so long. The damn thing was under last night’s newspaper, and I couldn’t – What happened to Timmy’s food?”

Cat reached for the phone, but the man ignored her hand. “Oh, I fed him,” she said. “He was so hungry… I hope you don’t mind!”

“You fed him?”

“Yes! Can I see the phone?”

“If you gave him the food, then why does your breath smell like strained peas?”

“I, ah, I can explain…”

“You weirdo! Get the hell out of here!” The man grabbed Cat’s chair, tipping her onto the floor. Cat scrambled to her feet, and ran out the front door.

Back at home, Cat collapsed on her couch, shaking. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she thought. “I can’t believe I did that. I ate that poor baby’s food and drank his formula. – God, I hope that was formula…”

Inside Cat, the transmitter chip sent yet another hunger signal. Cat cried out in frustration, and headed back to the kitchen.

Hours later, the control chips had repeated their cycle many times. Cat looked over the empty dishes and sighed, finally content. She had eaten four pizzas, two boxes of donuts, twelve cans of assorted vegetables, half a turkey, and an apple pie. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her swollen belly.

Under her skin, the sensor chip screeched. What the hell happened? How could such a tiny woman eat all this food? This was dangerous. The situation must be dealt with immediately. The sensor chip told the acid chamber to empty her stomach, and damn it, keep it empty!

The transmitter chip received yet another “empty” signal. Counting the last one, this was twelve. Twelve empty signals and not one “full!” What was happening? It searched its files for an answer. The empty signals weren’t supposed to happen more than once or twice a day. Perhaps its clock was malfunctioning. If that was true, then all the empty signals would mean the woman hadn’t eaten for at least a week. This was urgent! Send the strongest “hungry” signal possible and don’t let up until you get a full!

Cat screamed. She didn’t feel any pain; the control chips weren’t designed for that. Instead, she just felt horribly empty. Everyone she had ever loved had abandoned her. Her parents had moved to Florida. Her friends were starting families and never had any time for her. Even Paul was always at work or sleeping. Cat felt horribly alone and hollow inside. The only friend that had always been there was food. Food was the only way to fill the desperate, aching void inside of her.

It only took Cat twenty minutes to finish off the rest of the food in the refrigerator. She turned to the sink. Paul had left a pound of hamburger to thaw for that night’s supper. Cat tore off the tin foil and devoured the meat, still bloody and raw. Her mind recoiled at her actions but she just couldn’t stop.

“Still hungry… Still hungry! What now?” Cat turned to the kitchen cabinets. Moments later, she had finished six boxes of uncooked pasta, several jars of cocktail olives, and all of the food coloring. Then she devoured an entire bag of flour, washing it down with a bottle of olive oil. “Starving… Oh, hell. I need more!” Laughing hysterically, Cat pulled apart the kitchen. All the cabinets were open; all the drawers on the floor. No more food anywhere. Not even condiments. What now?

Cat opened the door to the garage and smiled. There in the corner, under a pile of old newspapers, was a forty-pound bag of dog food. Chicken and liver. “Huh, it makes its own gravy. Might not be too bad… People in other countries eat horse, don’t they?”

Cat dragged the dog food into the kitchen and filled the bag with water from the kitchen sink. It smelled like a petting zoo, and tasted even worse. Still, she ate it all. Cat walked back into the living room and collapsed on the couch. Still hungry. What to do? There was a scratching at the back door. “Oh, Mr. Bowser wants in, does he?” Cat picked up a large, serrated knife and opened the door. Mr. Bowser, a yellow lab, bounded inside. He licked Cat’s face and jumped on the couch.

“You know, cats and dogs have never gotten along.” Fortunately for Mr. Bowser, it was over quickly.

Cat leaned over the bathroom sink, washing the blood from her face. She brushed back her hair and groaned. “Aw, I got blood all over my blouse! I should go change… Right after I get a little something to eat. I wish I could call a cab. I could really go for some burgers right now.”

An hour later, and she was still hungry. Cat headed into her bathroom and dug out her basket of cosmetics. “That lipstick tasted like shit. I wonder how many bottles of shampoo I have?”

After finishing Paul’s shampoo and two bottles of shaving cream, she headed back downstairs. Outside, a car door slammed. “Paul’s home!” She opened the hall closet and pulled out Paul’s bowling ball. She stood behind the door and raised the ball over her head.

The door opened and Paul stepped inside. “Cat! I’m home! What’s for dinner?”

Filed under: horror, science fiction, story by Writepop