Missing Me

by Sophie McKenzie

  29

  A New Life

  ‘Jam?’ I bent closer, shaking his shoulder. But Jam didn’t respond. He was out cold.

  ‘Has he been hit or shot?’ Wolf said anxiously.

  ‘I can’t see any marks, but it’s too dark to really tell.’ I peered at Jam’s face.

  ‘Come on.’ Wolf grabbed Jam’s legs. ‘Hold his head so it doesn’t bump on the concrete.’

  Together we moved Jam’s limp body across the floor to the top of the stairs. There was more light here. Wolf laid Jam’s legs gently on the ground and I examined his head properly. No bruises. No blood.

  ‘I don’t get it.’ I looked up at Wolf. ‘There isn’t a scratch on him.’

  ‘Maybe he was drugged.’

  I nodded. That made sense. The same guy who’d seen us come in here must have been ordered to watch the entrance. When he saw Jam getting closer, it would have been easy enough to creep up behind him and slap a cloth containing something to knock him out over his face.

  I shivered, remembering how I’d watched, years ago, as a man called Cooper Trent had done exactly that to Annie, then gone on to set alight the building that Lauren and my other sister, Shelby, were trapped inside.

  ‘D’you think we should try getting him downstairs?’ Wolf asked.

  I nodded. Lauren was going to be desperately worried when she saw Jam like this, but I was sure she’d want to try and make him as comfortable as possible while we worked out what on earth to do next. ‘Lauren!’ I called out.

  There was no reply. I stood up. Why wasn’t she calling back? In fact, how come she hadn’t heard us already and come up to see what was happening?

  ‘Wait here a sec,’ I said to Wolf.

  Filling with dread, I sped down the steps to the bunker basement. Lauren was sitting on the edge of the mattress. She was bent over, rocking backwards and forwards.

  ‘Lauren?’ I said.

  She didn’t look up, just carried on rocking. I scurried over. ‘Jam’s here and he’s fine,’ I said, though I really had no idea if he was going to be OK or not. ‘He’s unconscious, but he spoke a bit first and I’m sure he’ll come round soon.’ I squatted down beside her.

  Lauren looked up – an unfocused gaze. ‘Mo?’ she said hoarsely.

  I frowned. She didn’t look like she’d even heard me speak, let alone clocked what I was saying.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I said.

  Lauren put her hand over her belly. ‘It hurts,’ she said. ‘More than before. Has done since you went upstairs.’

  My throat tightened. ‘Maybe you should lie down,’ I suggested.

  ‘No.’ Lauren’s voice was still hoarse with pain. She started rocking to and fro again. ‘I need to move . . . keep moving.’

  I stared at her, feeling helpless. ‘Wolf!’ I yelled up the stairs.

  A moment later, he was by my side. We stared at Lauren together. It was almost as if she wasn’t properly aware of our presence.

  ‘Lauren?’ I said. ‘What can I do?’

  She turned to me with wide, fearful eyes, focusing on me properly at last. ‘It’s the baby,’ she gasped. ‘It’s coming. I can feel it.’

  My stomach seemed to fall away inside me. ‘No,’ I said. ‘It can’t be coming. It’s too soon.’

  ‘I’m having contractions,’ Lauren said. ‘I think I might have been having them all day. But they’re much worse now. Mo, I’m scared.’

  I glanced at Wolf. He was white-faced. ‘What should we do?’ he said. ‘In movies they always boil water, but we can’t here and anyway, I don’t . . .’ He tailed off, looking as though he might be sick.

  My heart thudded against my chest. I couldn’t handle this. Not a baby. Not my big, brave sister in terrible pain. I needed someone to take charge – an adult . . . someone who knew what they were doing. I gulped, running through the options. Jam was unconscious. Wolf probably knew less than I did about people giving birth.

  There was no-one else. It was down to me. I had to get Lauren through this. Nothing else mattered. I took a deep breath. ‘May I have a look?’ I said.

  Lauren nodded. She turned around on the mattress. Wolf backed away, towards the little bathroom. He needed something to do.

  ‘See if you can find any blankets,’ I said. ‘Anything to wrap the baby in. And one for Jam as well, while you’re at it.’

  ‘OK.’ Wolf strode over to the shelving area.

  ‘Jam?’ Lauren glanced up at me. ‘Is Jam here?’

  I’d just told her he was, but she’d obviously been in so much pain she hadn’t even heard me. I hesitated. Now I could see the state she was in there was no point making things worse. Lauren needed hope. Hope and faith. ‘Jam will be with you soon. I meant you. A blanket for you.’

  Lauren nodded as she peeled off her leggings. I peered down.

  Jeez, was that the baby’s head? Panic whirled through my body. What was I supposed to do now?

  ‘Mo?’

  ‘You’re right, I think the baby is coming,’ I said. ‘What did they tell you at . . . at the classes you went to?’

  ‘Breathing.’ Lauren clutched at the word like a lifeline. ‘We had to do special breathing.’

  ‘Do that, then,’ I said, though inside I was screaming. How on earth was breathing going to help?

  ‘I’ve found a dusty old rug and a clean towel,’ Wolf said from across the room.

  ‘Take the rug upstairs,’ I said, indicating with my expression he was to use it to keep Jam warm. ‘I’ll have the towel.’

  Wolf handed me the towel then went upstairs. Lauren was squatting on the mattress now, taking deep breaths, then letting them out in long, low moans. She sounded like an animal. I peered down again. The top of the baby’s head was clearly visible, a purplish dome between Lauren’s legs. I put my hand on the very tip. The skin was warm. It thrilled through me that this was a life . . . literally, a life in my hands . . .

  I felt a new strength. ‘We’re going to get through this,’ I said.

  ‘OK.’ Lauren’s eyes fixed on mine. The look of fear faded slightly from her face. ‘OK, but it still really, really hurts.’

  I felt the baby’s head again. ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ I murmured. ‘You can do it.’ I looked up at Lauren, vaguely remembering a film we’d been shown at school years ago. ‘Don’t you have to push or something?’

  Lauren nodded. ‘It comes and goes,’ she panted. ‘The urge . . . to . . . push . . .’

  ‘Well, next time it comes, just take a big breath and push, all right?’ I said, hoping that was good advice.

  ‘OK.’ Lauren nodded, then let out another low groan.

  I positioned myself, both hands now cradling the baby’s head. ‘Almost out.’

  ‘OK, I’m . . . it’s time . . .’ Lauren’s voice shook with pain. She gave a huge, agonised moan.

  More of the baby’s head appeared. I could see the eyes now. Tight shut. The skin was all purplish and covered in some sort of white wax. I had no idea if any of that was normal.

  ‘Again,’ I said. ‘You’re doing so great, Lauren, breathe.’

  ‘I am breathing,’ she panted. ‘Oh, God, it hurts.’

  ‘You’re doing great,’ I repeated. ‘Come on, push again.’

  ‘Aaagh . . .’ Lauren took another breath. Another moan. Another push. Again.

  Again.

  With a burst of water and blood, the baby slithered out, into my hands. I held it, too shocked for a moment to speak.

  ‘Oh, God,’ Lauren whispered.

  I stared down at the baby. A little girl. The umbilical cord was still inside Lauren. As I watched, the baby opened her tiny mouth.

  ‘WAAH!’ A thin wail filled the air.

  Quickly, I reached for the towel and wrapped the baby in it. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was tiny and wrinkled and . . . so old-looking. Nothing like the babies – or pictures of babies – I’d seen before. I lifted her up to Lauren. She reached down for her, scanning her furiously.

  W
e held her together. ‘Is she OK?’ I said. ‘What’s all that white stuff?’

  Lauren drew the towel over the baby and pressed her close against her chest. The wailing stopped. The baby stared up at Lauren with huge, unseeing eyes. I kept my hand on the baby’s arm. Her five fingers were so small, so perfect.

  ‘I think the white stuff is called vernix,’ Lauren said. ‘It’s a protective thing . . .’

  ‘Is she OK?’ I asked again. ‘She’s so minute and . . . and . . . so crumpled.’

  Lauren made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. ‘She’s early, but I think they normally look like this . . .’

  ‘Too early?’ I was holding my breath. As the shock of the birth was wearing off, I could feel myself filling up with a new feeling. I didn’t understand it, but it was powerful. I had to know the baby was all right.

  Leaning against the wall, Lauren held her closer. I let go, sitting back and watching them.

  ‘Anything between thirty-eight and forty-two weeks is supposed to be OK,’ Lauren said, her voice soft. She still hadn’t taken her eyes off the baby. ‘I think she’s fine, Mo.’

  I gazed at them still, letting the reality of what I was seeing settle on me. My sister was a mother. I was an aunt. This baby was my blood.

  The powerful feeling flooded through me, right to my fingertips. This was the fiercest love I’d ever known. Lauren looked up. Our eyes met. And I knew that all my former fears had been for nothing. This baby wasn’t going to come between Lauren and me. We were going to love her together.

  She was our family.

  ‘Oh.’ The word breathed out of me at the enormity and the power of what I had done and felt and understood.

  ‘Yes.’ Lauren nodded, knowing exactly what I meant.

  Slam. Upstairs the door crashed open. A split second later, footsteps thundered down the stairs. Two men wearing surgical masks stormed into the basement. One carried a gun. He pointed it at me.

  ‘Move away,’ he ordered.

  Terrified, I scrambled back. The second man crouched down in front of Lauren.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I glanced up the stairs. I could just make out Jam’s body, still prostrate at the top. There was no sign of Wolf, but I could hear him talking to someone upstairs, demanding to know what was going on.

  I looked back at Lauren. The second man was peering down at her.

  ‘It’s OK, I’m a doctor,’ he was saying. He was murmuring something. I caught the word ‘placenta’.

  Lauren gave another groan. I held my breath. Was she OK? The doctor was still examining her. He cut the cord, then looked up.

  ‘Let me check the baby,’ he said.

  ‘No.’

  But he had already taken her. He was opening up the towel, eyes intent on the tiny bundle inside. ‘She’s fine.’ He was speaking to the other man, whose gun was still pointing at my face. Both men strode to the staircase. The baby started crying again.

  ‘Wait, what are you doing?’ I said.

  ‘Stay back.’

  As they raced up the stairs, Lauren screamed out. ‘No!’ Her yell rose up, over the baby’s thin wails.

  And then the bunker door slammed shut and Lauren fell silent, her face the colour of ash, as the baby’s cries died away, fading into the air as if they had never been.

  30

  The Wall

  I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Wolf pounded down the stairs. He rushed over to me.

  ‘Madison?’ He grabbed my arm. ‘Did they take the baby?’

  I nodded. Lauren was still sitting, motionless, a picture of utter despair. I walked over and squatted down beside her. I had no idea what to say . . . how to comfort her . . .

  ‘We’ll get her back,’ I said.

  Lauren looked up at me. Misery was etched into her face. I’d never seen anyone look so completely devastated. A terrible blistering guilt bled through me. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t tried so hard to impress Allan, I would never have found Natalia. And if I hadn’t tried to help Natalia, then Baxter wouldn’t have taken Lauren’s baby.

  I helped Lauren back into her leggings, then laid her down on the mattress. She let me help her as if she were a child, then closed her eyes and turned away to face the wall. Feeling helpless, I wandered across the room to the shelving area, where Wolf was rummaging through the contents of a cardboard box.

  ‘What I don’t understand is how Declan Baxter and his men knew the baby was coming,’ Wolf said quietly as I joined him. ‘I mean, Lauren wasn’t due to give birth for a couple of weeks . . . there weren’t any obvious signs it would happen when she was captured. And there aren’t any cameras in here, either.’ He glanced up the stairs to the hut above.

  I followed his gaze. ‘What happened upstairs?’ I asked. ‘There was a man guarding you, wasn’t there? Did he hurt you?’

  ‘No,’ Wolf said. ‘When they left, I could hear them outside, tinkering with that control panel by the door, but I don’t know what they did.’

  ‘What about Jam?’

  ‘Did you say Jam?’ Across the room, Lauren sat up. ‘Is he here? Why didn’t you say? Is he all right?’

  I exchanged a look with Wolf. ‘We think he’s been drugged, but—’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Lauren got up from the mattress. She clutched at her side, leaning against the wall.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I asked anxiously, rushing over.

  Lauren gave a fierce, sharp nod. ‘I have to see him.’ She staggered across the floor. I caught her arm.

  ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Wolf and I will bring him down.’

  This took some doing. Wolf held Jam under the shoulders, taking the bulk of his weight, while I guided his legs down the steep stone steps.

  It took at least fifteen minutes to get him down the stairs and onto the mattress. Lauren sat beside him. Tears were now streaming down her face. Again, I didn’t know what to say. Jam moaned and shifted a little.

  ‘I think he’s going to be fine,’ I said, trying to sound hopeful.

  ‘How am I going to tell him about the baby?’ Lauren sobbed.

  I stared at her. I’d never seen Lauren in such a state before. She was always so strong and resourceful – I couldn’t bear watching her break down like this.

  ‘Do you have a name for . . . for her?’ I said, hoping to give Lauren something else to focus on.

  ‘Yes,’ Lauren wept. ‘Ellie.’

  I smiled. ‘That’s pretty.’

  ‘Jam and I decided last week.’ Lauren looked up, wiping her eyes. ‘Ellen Shelby Caldwell for a girl.’ She paused. ‘I wanted Shelby’s name to be in there somewhere.’

  She looked at me, tears welling up again. ‘Oh, Mo.’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’ I said the words with more conviction than I truly felt. ‘We’ll be OK and . . . and so will Ellie. We’ll find her, I promise.’

  Lauren sniffed. ‘I’m going to see if I can wash in that bathroom,’ she said.

  Wolf and I helped her up. She seemed a little steadier on her feet as she walked to the room with the tiny sink. Then I went over to Jam. He was breathing deeply, as if he were asleep, but I had no idea if he were any closer to consciousness than he had been before.

  I sat back against the wall. Wolf was pacing across the room, deep in thought. I suddenly realised I was sweating.

  ‘Is it me or is it hotter in here than when we arrived?’ I peeled off my long-sleeved top and bundled it into a ball.

  ‘It is.’ Wolf stared at me. ‘That’s what the men were doing outside with the control panel. They were turning off the air conditioning.’

  I placed my top under Jam’s head as a pillow, then went over to Wolf. I lowered my voice so that Lauren wouldn’t hear inside the bathroom.

  ‘Doesn’t that mean we’ll suffocate?’

  Wolf nodded, his eyes wide with fear. ‘With four of us in here, I reckon we’ve got an hour – maybe two – before the air becomes unbreathable,’ he whispered.

  I gulped. So this was Baxter’s plan . . .
take the baby and leave the rest of us to die here.

  ‘But Baxter knows your dad,’ I said. ‘Surely he won’t let you die just because you helped me?’

  ‘How would he know I’m here?’ Wolf said miserably. ‘Those men upstairs didn’t look properly at me. Anyway, why would Baxter care if I got killed? He’s never paid me any attention – and I’m sure he’s going to do his best to make sure no-one finds out that he’s responsible.’

  We stood in silence for a moment, then Wolf pointed at the wall that led from the bathroom to the corner of the room where the shelving started.

  ‘Does anything about that look strange to you?’ he asked.

  I stared at the wall. At first glance it appeared exactly the same as all the others in the room.

  ‘I don’t see—’

  ‘Look at the paint, it’s a slightly different colour.’

  I moved closer. It was true: the wall Wolf was looking at was a greyer shade of white than the rest. ‘OK, but I don’t get—’

  Wolf tapped the wall. It made a light, hollow sound.

  ‘It’s not solid,’ I breathed. ‘But that doesn’t make sense; all the other walls are reinforced with concrete.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Wolf said. ‘The concrete was added after the hut and this basement area were built. I think it was originally designed as a storage area. And I don’t think this is a proper wall at all.’ He gave it another hollow tap. ‘I think it’s just a bit of plasterboard,’ Wolf said. ‘Which means there’s got to be something on the other side.’

  A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. I wiped it away. ‘Come on.’ I picked up the hammer Wolf had found earlier and slammed it against the plasterboard. It made contact with a smack. A satisfying crack spread across the wall.

  Wolf fetched the plank of wood Lauren had torn off a packing crate before. He thrust the end against the crack I’d made. The crack deepened. I hit the wall with the hammer again.

  Lauren appeared from the bathroom. ‘What’s going on?’

  I explained as Wolf took the hammer and rammed it repeatedly against the wall. He stopped, gleaming with sweat, after a few minutes. I took over. Then Wolf took over from me. In ten minutes we had created a hole big enough to crawl through.