Afterbirth (16 page)

Miranda’s breath hitched as the twin towers of the Nixon Center came into view. The sight of the familiar red Jeep wasn’t nearly enough to offset the dread. She hadn’t had a night’s sleep without thinking of the place in seven months, and the idea that her daughter could be born there terrified her.

Scott parked next to Foster’s Jeep and reached across the seat to comfort her. “It’s going to be all right.”

There was hesitation in his voice.

Sharp pain radiated through her stomach and into her groin. She took slow breaths to try and calm down, to postpone the inevitable, but she’d been under too much stress.

Michael parked in the next space over and opened Miranda’s door. “How’re you holding up?” He put his stethoscope into his ears and listened to her belly.

“You tell me.” She watched his expression change.

He pursed his lips. “How close are the contractions?”

She hadn’t been timing them.

“Where are Earl and Randy?” Scott asked.

Michael shook his head and glanced at the footlocker on the back of Yukon. “I can’t have them being part of this.”

“Miranda!” Penny limped around the side of the pick-up and stopped short when she was in sight of Miranda’s swollen belly. “Oh, God.” She broke down.

Foster wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his jacket.

Miranda couldn’t believe the changes in her. Penny appeared hardened and, under other circumstances, she would have asked how she’d been surviving. She bordered on emaciated and there was a pervasive sadness about her, aside from the obvious pain. A small bloodstain seeped through the hospital gown at her thigh.

“What happened?” A wave of pain radiated across Miranda’s stomach and she clenched her teeth.

“We have to get you inside,” Michael said.

Scott looked at Foster. “Is anyone else in there?”

Foster shrugged. “Not that we saw. Not now, anyway.”

The main entrance doors remained wide open, inviting Miranda back into her nightmare.

“I can’t go in there.” Her heart beat faster and she started to sweat. Another contraction, stronger than the last one, caused her to groan.

Michael shook his head. “We need to find the antivirus before you deliver, Miranda.”

Scott held her hand and she squeezed as hard as she could. “Foster, do you know where Nixon kept the shots?” he asked.

“What’s going on?” Penny sniffled. Miranda crossed her arms over her stomach and looked away. “Miranda, what’s happening?”

Another contraction came and when the dark liquid seeped through Miranda’s cotton maternity dress, she started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. “As much as I hate to say it, this is the best place to deliver. I know you wanted us to get what we need and get out of here, but we’re going to have to take you inside.”

Scott smoothed her sweaty hair back from her face. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “You’ll both be fine.”

Michael turned to Foster. “How well do you know this place?”

“Pretty well, considering I used to work here.”

Penny retracted. “Please, say we’re not going back in there.”

Miranda took several deep breaths. “The baby is healthy,” she said. “She’s not like the others.” She grunted through a weak contraction. “But if her blood gets into my bloodstream, I’m…” She choked up, and even after clearing her throat, couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“If the baby’s blood crosses into Miranda’s bloodstream then she becomes infected.” Scott lowered his head.

The next contraction hit, hard. Miranda screamed as the pressure increased to the point that she couldn’t stand it. “I need to push!”

“Help me get her inside.” Michael helped her out of the passenger’s side door and she nearly collapsed in his arms. Warm fluid ran down her legs and spotted the asphalt. She wrapped one arm around Michael’s neck and the other around Scott’s and shuffled toward the place she swore she’d never go again. Each step brought a new spurt of liquid, and the more she walked, the stronger her contractions became.

“Foster,” Scott said, “There’s not a lot of time. Do you know where Nixon kept the shots?”

He nodded. “I doubt there are any left in the basement, but he kept a stash in his office. What are the odds he didn’t take them?”

Scott shrugged. “I hope pretty good.”

Miranda looked at the swinging bodies and the dried blood leading into the center and wept. “I can’t do it,” she said. “I can’t go in there.” Her chest tightened and she was unable to breathe. She couldn’t take another step. The agonizing pain increased and the pressure of the baby’s descent as unbearable.

“Foster, grab that wheelchair, would you?”

Foster brushed the dirt and ash off the wheelchair just inside the door and rushed over to Miranda.

Scott lowered her into the chair and the seat became immediately soaked.

“Which way to Labor and Delivery?” Michael asked.

Foster turned to Penny, who had been begging to leave. “They need help. You said, yourself, that Reid was gone.”

Miranda huffed in and out, breathing the way she’d learned in the childbirth class that seemed a lifetime ago.

Scott’s mouth fell slightly open. “Reid? I shot him. I thought I killed him.”

Penny pulled the bloody gown away from her wound and winced. “I assure you, he’s alive.”

When the next contraction hit, it spread unrelenting pain throughout Miranda’s entire body. “What if he comes back?” She closed her hands around the dusty wheelchair arms and bore down, screaming.

“I have to get her something for the pain,” Michael said.

Scott grabbed the chair’s handles and pushed. “Foster, where are we going?”

Penny grabbed Fosters hand. “I don’t want to be alone.” He folded her under his arm.

“Straight ahead, left at the first hallway,” said Foster. “Stairwell is on the right, past the bathroom.”

Miranda closed her eyes and rocked gently front to back. The movement alleviated the pain and pressure in her low back and helped her focus on something other than the remains of their escape.

Penny limped along and leaned against the wall when they reached the stairs. Foster pushed open the door and jammed the charred remains of a door stop under the edge, wedging it open.

“We have to carry her.” Michael settled his grip under the front of the wheelchair. “You help the girl up,” he said to Foster, referring to Penny. “I can see she’s hurt. I’ll take a look at her as soon as we get through this.”

Miranda bore down and grunted, sweat rolling down the back of her neck.

“Labor and Delivery is on the second floor,” Foster said.

Michael lifted the front of the chair.

Scott lifted the back. “Hold on,” he said and ascended the blood-smeared stairs.

The second floor door was already open. A dispatched female infected rotted where she fell. Miranda covered her nose and mouth and tried not to vomit. Scott hurried her past the body and down the hall to where Michael stood in front of one of the rooms.

“In here.” He rummaged through the cabinets for vials and needles. “Get her on the table.”

Miranda struggled to stand.

Scott put a step-stool at the foot of the pelvic examination bed and pushed the stirrups aside. “Here,” he said. “I’ve got you.” Scott lifted her and raised the side rails.

She sank into the plastic-covered mattress and reached for Scott. “Hold my hand!” she screamed.

Michael drew up a syringe. “Demerol will help with the pain.” He turned to Foster. “We need those shots, now.”

Foster nodded. “I’ll go up and look for them. Penny, stay here.”

“I need to examine you.” Michael said, rolling Miranda onto her side.

There was a sharp pinch in her right buttock and within seconds, the water-logged wallpaper with pink floral pattern started to dance.

Michael slid off her underwear and placed her feet in the stirrups. Her head swam, and though the Demerol barely took the edge off the pain, it confused her to the point that she could no longer think or worry about being touched.

“Is there water on?” Michael asked Penny.

Penny sniffled and turned on the faucet. “Cold,” she said.

“Scott, look for something like a washcloth and fill a basin. Miranda’s burning up.”

Michael inserted the speculum. “She’s dilated eight centimeters. It could be hours or minutes until she’s ready. Two more centimeters and she can push.”

“I need to push now,” Miranda screamed. The pressure and cramping felt like needing to have a bowel movement.

Michael held a cold washcloth to her forehead. “Just a little bit longer.”

Reid adjusted the pack on his back with the hybrid infant sleeping inside of it. Neither Corey nor Brett had spoken for miles, adding to the awkward tension of a prisoner calling his own shots. Reid hated throwing-in with Nixon’s guards, but he wasn’t stupid when it came to opportunities. With what happened to Nate, there was a hole in Nixon’s regime that he’d rather fill than be on the other end of a gun with Zach, who stumbled up the mountain ahead of him. Zach cradled Allison, wrapped in the silver blanket which didn’t stop her teeth from chattering. Reid wasn’t sure what Nixon had been up to with her, but taking one look at her now, it was clear she was fighting the virus.

The muddy, leaf-covered ground became stony as the group approached the small log cabin near the summit.

A small group of hens wandered the property, pecking at scattered seed and clucking. Reid noted the open gate in their pen.

“Must be how she got out,” he said.

No one answered.

Nixon opened the front door and leaned against it. His hair was completely gray now and he scratched at his temple, shaking his head. “Well, this is certainly unexpected. Zach Keller and Max Reid. Just like old times.”

“Get in there.” Brett shoved Zach toward the threshold. Zach flashed him a nasty look and tightened his hold on Allison. “What do you want me to do with them?” Brett asked Nixon.

Allison mumbled something under her breath.

“You boarded up the window?” Nixon asked Joe.

Joe nodded. “She’s not getting out of there twice.”

“Check them for weapons and put them both in the room,” Nixon said.

“What about the infection?”

Nixon gestured for Corey to keep Zach at bay.

Corey pointed his gun directly against Zach’s head and warned him not to move.

Nixon lifted Allison’s eyelids and sighed. He took two syringes from his lab coat pocket and injected her. “This will either work or it won’t,” he said. “Lock them up.”

Corey pressed the gun harder into Zach’s skull. “Move it. Get in there.”

Zach carried Allison inside. Corey, after taking what supplies and weapons Zach had on him, locked the door and resumed his place in formation. The guards, Reid noticed, circled around him.

Reid met Nixon’s steely stare, a show of bravado that, once he was inside and surrounded, became a harder act to keep up. He looked around the room for anything he could use to escape if he had to.

An obese cook fried eggs in a cast iron pan on the woodstove and the room stunk of grease. A blood-spattered basin in the corner held the remnants of apparent torture. Iron tongs and a burnt out ember beneath a lowered pulley indicated it had been recently used.

“Up to old tricks?” Reid eyed the large guard sitting on a stool in the corner. The others closed in behind him, waiting for Nixon’s orders.

Nixon appeared to be doing a head count. “Where’s Nate?”

Reid looked over his shoulder at both Corey and Brett and then back at Nixon. “I had to shoot him.”

The admission clearly caught Nixon off-guard.

The large guard in the corner stood up.

Reid took a deep breath. “Sit down, big guy. It wasn’t like that. He was infected.”

Nixon shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Max Reid, you’re a tough one to catch. You slink around my hospital like a ghost living off of what I lost and you come here after murdering one of my men and act like nothing happened. Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”

Reid went to the butcher’s block, unfastened the clip at his shoulder, and slid the pack off his back. A mewling sound came from inside the bundle and Nixon moved closer. Reid pulled the half-closed zipper, careful to avoid being bit, and pushed the swaddling blanket aside. “Miranda’s child reason enough for you?”

Allison’s stomach ached from the window ledge pressing into the minefield of puncture wounds, the most recent having become red and swollen.

Zach eased her onto the cot and she kept her knees bent until the worst of the pain passed.

The room, once filled with sunlight, had become nothing more than a tomb. Cramped and hot with only a single oil lamp for light, it might as well have been a coffin.

“There has to be a way out of here.” Zach paced the floors, searching for something to pry the board from the windows. “I’m not going to let them continue hurting you.”

Allison sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Then they can’t save me, either.” She slipped out of her muddy clothes and used the washcloth and water left in the basin to wash herself. After one rinse of the cloth, the water became black. She examined her feet, noting no sensation at all in her toes and a terrible burning feeling everywhere else. The color was off, but hard to see in the dim light exactly how far. The blisters, however, were unmistakable. She limped to where Ben had stashed a change of clothes and slowly redressed. Each movement hurt more than the last. The cold and shivering stiffened her muscles and joints. The erratic treatments had caused mixed reactions and she couldn’t differentiate the side-effects from exposure. She limped over to the cot and covered up with the blanket. The warmth felt nice, and after what she’d seen in the woods, she felt safer inside than out. She patted the thin mattress for Zach to join her.

He sat down and the springs groaned under their combined weight. The mattress sank lower to the floor and she shifted to avoid feeling like she was rolling toward the edge. She took Zach’s hand and sighed, immediately tearing up. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I followed every lead and never gave up. I guess I got lucky.”

“I was the lucky one.” Tears flowed down her face and dripped from her chin. If she died then, she couldn’t have been more at peace. “What’s happening out there? What was wrong with those people?”

Zach looked confused. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “How could I? I’ve been trapped here.”

He wiped his hand across his forehead and broke eye contact. “It’s a virus.”

“Those people were eating a deer, alive, Zach and then it just up and ran away with half its guts out. What kind of virus does that? Where does something like that even come from?”

Zach’s lower lip quivered and he sniffled. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled her close and she pushed him away.

“Zach, where did it come from?”

He turned away from her. “The Nixon Center.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “And that boy, he ran after me. He was going to attack me like they did that deer, and he stopped. He chased you, instead. Why is that?”

“Allison, you were dying. I had to…”

She moved away from him. “Had to
what
?” She tossed the blanket aside, suddenly too warm. Her hands shook and her skin crawled with the stinging of pins and needles. “You did this, didn’t you?”

“The virus cured your cancer. It bought you time. Nixon told me he could keep you from becoming like…”

“Like those people in the woods?” The widespread darkness, the lack of communication, and the secluded cabin formed a bigger picture. “How many people are infected?”

He lowered his head.

“How many?” she shouted.

“Almost all of them.”

“And there is no cure, is there?”

“No,” he whispered. “The shots hold it off, but…”

The shots.
“You know what Ben said to me when I told him I didn’t want to be treated for cancer anymore?” She brushed her tangled, sweat-plastered hair away from her face. Halos formed in her vision, surrounding the single lantern light, and she blinked until they cleared. “He told me that it wasn’t the cancer killing me.” She wept into her hands. “I never would’ve believed for a minute it had anything to do with you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Zach said. “I couldn’t imagine life without you.” He tried to hold her and she refused to let him.

Her stomach felt uneasy and a dull ache started in her head. She pushed him away, and in the flickering light, saw the pain in his eyes. For what she’d endured, for the peaceful death he denied her, he couldn’t hurt badly enough.

“You want to know why I escaped from this place and went wandering through the woods?” She shivered and pulled up the blanket, her skin hot with fever. “Because I wanted to die. I begged Ben to stop the treatment and they killed him. They turned him into one of those
monsters
. The only thing that made the guilt worth it was that I hoped to find you, Zach. And now I’m sorry I did.” Her muscles twitched and went rigid, so much so that it forced her flat on her back.

Zach grabbed both of her arms and held her tight. He shouted something, though she couldn’t hear him. She could only see his mouth moving and his face contorting with panic. Her ears rang and her jaw clenched. The rigors shook her hard. The black hole in her peripheral vision spread like ink until there was nothing but dark silence. She was conscious, but paralyzed and prayed that this was her end.