by Bella Knight
“Fuckin…” said Skuld, unable to complete the thought.
Wraith checked her pulse at her neck. “Still alive, but barely.”
The other cops ran up, a man and a woman. The woman spoke as fast as possible into her shoulder mic.
“Still with us?” asked the male cop.
“For now,” said Wraith.
They waited until the pictures were taken and they were patient for the bus. Someone brought a victim’s blanket and brought it over. Wraith gloved up, carefully removed the syringe, and the male cop bagged and tagged it.
“Heroin,” said Wraith.
“Probably,” the male cop said. He was Hispanic, with dark hair and even darker eyes in the gloom of night.
The female cop, an Amerasian with tilted eyes and dark hair (braided halfway down her back) finally stopped talking on her mic, as the second ambulance of the night showed up.
“What a waste,” she said.
“I’ll get the coffee,” said Skuld. “This is gonna take a while.”
Wraith and Skuld followed up on the baby first, pre-paperwork, heading to the hospital. “She’s heroin-addicted. Probably cried and went stiff, was impossible to soothe. Mom was probably overwhelmed,” said the pediatrician on call, Dr. Ng. He looked like Saber, except with an even flatter nose and much shorter hair. “Did you find her?”
“Nodding out in an alley two blocks from the baby,” said Wraith. “Don’t know if she left the baby on purpose, or wandered off high.”
“We’ll keep her in the NICU, get her off the drugs,” said Dr. Ng. “It’s heartbreaking to watch. We now have whole NICU’s devoted to the thousands of babies born addicted to drugs.”
“We’ll be back,” said Wraith. “Do what you can for her.”
“Of course,” said Dr. Ng.
They went to the adult hospital on their bikes. Neither one of them said a word. The mother went into a coma. Despite the doctors and nurses doing all they could, she slipped away just hours later, Wraith holding one hand, Skuld the other. Skuld stood, and kissed her forehead.
“Go to the Summerlands, sister,” she said. “We will care for your child.”
They went back to the NICU. A social worker was there, a portly black woman with a shock of red hair.
They introduced themselves, and she introduced herself as Gertrude Blake, “But just call me Gertie,” she said. “How’s the mother?” Wraith shook her head. “Damn shame,” she said. “Be hard to find foster parents for a hospitalized baby on such short notice. “
“Why do you say that?” said Wraith. “I know of three couples personally who are waiting on a baby, been through all of the classes. Several have medical training. Roberto Domingo is a cardiac nurse. He’s married to Georges Paul, who is an accountant. I know they’ve specifically asked for a drug-addicted baby. Then there’s Trina and Rob…”
Gertie held up her hand. “The first couple. You know them?”
“Salt of the earth,” said Wraith. “Been waiting two years. Or, is it three?”
“Give me their info,” said Gertie, whipping out her phone. “That baby needs someone here, now.” She talked into her phone as Wraith called up both Roberto and Georges’ phone numbers and last names.
“Found them,” said Gertie. “Who’s off tonight?”
“They both are,” said Wraith. “Roberto only works three nights a week.”
“I’ll get the paperwork started,” said Gertie, and punched in a number. “Is this Roberto Domingo? This is Gertie Blake with Child Services.” Wraith and Skuld grinned as they heard Roberto whoop.
Twenty minutes later, Roberto came rushing around the corner from the elevator in purple scrubs. He was a short man with a stocky chest and arms that bulged with muscles.
“You must be Gertie,” he said. “Georges is parking the car in the parking garage. Now, what do you need me to sign?” he said, handing over his ID and his foster father paperwork.
“Good thing they let me use the printer here,” said Gertie, handing him a pen.
All three women watched through the NICU window as Roberto washed up, and was introduced to his daughter. He wrapped her up papoose-style, whispering to her.
Georges flew around the same corner. He was older, just past thirty, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a slight limp. He sported the same muscles as Roberto. He wore a blue jacket, dark blue jeans, and a soft yellow shirt. Gertie wordlessly handed him a pen, and he signed.
He turned, and stared at Roberto, now holding the baby to his chest and rocking slowly back and forth. “What’s her name?” he asked, his eyes filled with wonder and tears.
“Her mom can’t tell us. She died,” said Wraith. “Why don’t you name her?”
Georges nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He washed up in the sink, put on a yellow plastic thing, and went into the NICU. He smiled, and patted her back, as she went stiff and squalled.
The two men spoke softly. “Amelia,” Georges mouthed, and waved. They waved back.
Gertie wiped away tears. “Never ceases to amaze me,” she said. “Making new families. Now, let’s give these gentlemen some privacy.”
At the bikes, Wraith and Skuld touched foreheads. “With our shield,” said Wraith.
“Or on it,” said Skuld. They smiled tearfully, hugged each other, and headed out into the icy night that was filled with stars.
“If you can’t change your own behavior, you’re destined for pain, grief, and loss, and the loss of the trust of others.”
6
Growing Pains
“It takes a village to make sure parents don’t die from exhaustion.”
Killa, Ghost, Inola, Bella, and Katya met for lunch at a pizza and salad place, and exchanged babies. They ordered cheese straws and a pizza with an arugula, pear, and goat cheese salad on it.
“I is as big as a house,” complained Ghost, nawing on cheese straws.
Killa leaned back, exposing her rounded belly. “I one-third ya size, an’ I feel like a trackta traila.”
Inola played with Luka. “I was huge,” she said. “Got real mad when Henry and Bella refused to let me ride.”
Bella snorted, nearly waking up Ivan. “She was having trouble getting up, even with a step up.”
Inola grimaced. “Being able to ride was the second-best thing about having Ryder,” she said.
“Best thing is baby,” said Katya, nodding in understanding. Ryder had a hell of a grip on Katya’s finger. “This one is strong.”
“Very,” said Inola, laughing. “Look in her mouth. See those teeth!”
“I am lucky. No teeth yet. When it happens, next day, I have bottle.”
“That’s what I did,” said Inola. “I’ll only bleed once. So, I expressed as much as I could for her. Getting dried up.”
Killa smiled. “We not havin’ to do dat. We be handin’ em over and makin’ dem women happy.”
“It’s a real-good thing you’re doing,” said Bella. “I might be the next one, if we want another one.”
Inola groaned. “I want to sleep. Baby means no sleep.”
“Glad we ain’t keepin’ em,” said Ghost. “Got bidness. Be makin’ bank. Like de little bikes, lookin’ de same as de big ones.”
“We need mo’ people in da place,” said Killa. “Tito be buildin’ on da back. Be buildin’ on de back on both sides. Gotta new nursery, two-year-old room, four-year-old room. Got ex-teachas wit’ dere own kids from da pre-school places. Be givin’ dem betta money, betta hours, betta in-su-rance.” She drew out the last words. “Nighthawks be bankin’ da green, and payin’ it out to fill up our lot.”
Callie and Ivy came by, pulled up chairs, and ordered a potato and bacon pizza. They passed around the babies. Ivy swiped cheese straws, and put in another two orders.
“I’m completely exhausted,” said Callie. “We got new baby rooms at the school, and we hired more teachers. All the parents pay into a fund, and Nighthawk businesses pay in as well. Ours are there, and we are paying into it as parent
s. We get a discount because I’m a teacher.”
“When you goin’ back to work?” asked Killa.
“Another month,” said Ivy. “Callie wants to teach again, but I can’t stand up long enough to tend bar. We sleep when the babies do.”
Katya laughed. “Is same with me.” She sucked on her de-caffeinated iced coffee.
Ivy sucked on her full-caffeine Coke. “Got through a few weeks, then Callie decided to breastfeed both,” said Ivy. “I get to drink my Coke again.”
“You’re not as good a cow as I am,” said Callie. All the women laughed, startling the babies. Ivan cried, and he was passed back to Mom.
They fell on the food like pigs, ordering more pizza, and rounds of key lime, chocolate silk, and peanut butter pie. They laughed, switched babies around, and then went to a coffee shop next door. They ordered various coffees and teas, and settled in to have their babies cooed over. The nursing moms covered themselves with blankets, and the rest of the women took turns burping the babies.
“How are the Nighthawks doing?” asked Bella.
“We lost some to the Valkyries, but we got a lot coming in,” Ivy said. “We haven’t been on the last rides.”
“Gregory, he go,” said Katya. “Miss him like crazy woman. They go to Baja. Be warm when I am cold. Eat Mexican food.”
“That’s my fault,” said Ivy. “I kind of dropped a kid.” Everyone else laughed. “Henry was there too, wasn’t he?”
“He was,” said Inola. “But said he wanted to ‘check out the new crop.’ All of ‘em sponsored. Couple of crack shots at the shooting range. Ex-military usually go to the Iron Knights, but we got two this crop. Henry’s gonna take the Paiute and Hopi on a sweat. Nantan’s checking out the Sioux guy.”
“He gay?” asked Killa.
“’Fraid not,” said Inola.
“Damn,” said Killa. “That boy need a boyfriend.”
“Damn straight,” said Bella.
“When are you getting a new Wolfpack?” asked Callie.
“They ain’t allowed to take my helpas,” said Ghost. “Them baby Valkyrie girls be workin’ it.”
They finally got up and went their separate ways, the babies all strapped into the cars and minivans, and Ivy’s actual van. The ladies poked their heads in to see the inside of Ivy’s van. She had it all tricked out —a cooler for baby bottles, a heater to heat up the bottles, and the back filled with diapers and wipes. There were also coolers for a road trip ready to go in the back. The ladies laughed in ripples that flew across the parking lot in the wind. They agreed to meet the next week, probably at a barbecue joint, then they got in their cars and left.
Thanksgiving was not a holiday anyone on the ranch celebrated, and neither did most of the Nighthawks, or the Valkyries. They did, however, have time off. The students, including Callie, who was still in school (despite being a mother of three girls and a boy), still had papers to write, tests to take, right before the holiday break. They all worked at breakneck speed to catch up before the four-day weekend, with Callie struggling to stay awake after feeding the babies to watch the lectures, take notes, and write papers.
Bao was a godsend, and the Chinese restaurant was doing well enough to hire more people. No longer a nearly-unpaid slave, Bao was now a full-time teacher at the Nighthawks’ homeschool. They took turns with days off and watching the girls and babies. Grandma willing to escape the restaurant and hold babies. Ace and Gregory both came over to hold babies as well, so Callie typed until she felt her fingers would bleed, and until her eyes felt like they might fall out of her head.
The ranch’s various businesses were in full swing as well. Nantan had dropped off what seemed like a million pumpkins for Halloween, which the Valkyries celebrated with, literally, having a field day and testing out their new armor. They invited the fighters from the Society for Creative Anachronism, who brought ale. A good time was had by all. The pumpkins kept coming, as Nantan knew about pies, holiday ones.
They spent day after day with their hands in pumpkin guts, popping out seeds to dry and to put in salads or pack as snacks, and mixing the orange parts with their own homemade pumpkin spice mix. They enjoyed selling it in sealed mason jars, two per pie. The moms and grandmas bought the jars and returned them empty for more. No one wanted to eat pumpkin anything at the ranch, so they sold all they grew.
Chayton spent his days coding eBooks in Sioux and Apache, and created a template to help David, Henry, Vu, and the Paiute Owls help create their own books. Vu, David, Alo, Yas, and Yoki all took turns illustrating the stories. Yanaba and Gwen helped with the coding. Chayton turned his hands to tribal eBooks on Math, Native and Tribal History and Culture, Horticulture, Natural Sciences, and Animal Husbandry. The Wolfpack helped where they could. They all loved the stories.
Chayton gave the template to Bao, who was delighted to make books in Mandarin. They added her to their book company, and she made a pretty penny selling the books to schools in San Francisco, including several immersion schools all over the United States, and to mainland China. She learned both Taiwanese Mandarin and the Hokkien dialect, and created English/Chinese books for children.
Chayton helped Nantan when he could. The man was a machine, trying to be everywhere at once. Chayton took it upon himself to talk to Henry about purchasing more vehicles for the teens to drive, and eventually buy once they left, or to make deliveries and go to work with Tito. Chayton took them for their driver’s licenses, after training them himself. He also took the Valkyrie teens for their motorcycle tests. Eventually, four “hoopty” cars and three very good used bikes were purchased, and the teens all worked even harder to pay them off.
Chayton also became a much better rider under Nantan’s tutelage. Although not a “horse whisperer” like Inola and Jeffrey, he loved the horses and ponies, and they loved him.
Tam and Nico were a little confused by the strange man who spoke in a mix of English, Sioux, and Apache. The one who helped them with their homework, took them on long rides, took over household chores so their dad could spend more time with them, and played soccer and baseball for hours as the sun set over the mountains.
Nico finally got up the courage to ask. “Are you my dad’s boyfriend?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Chayton. “He did not speak of this with you?”
“Will you take him away from us?” asked Tam.
Chayton got on his knees in front of Tam. “No, I would never, ever do that. This is his home, and you are his sons. He is more proud of you both, than he is of anything else in his life. So, no, that would be stupid. He’d leave me in a heartbeat if I ever said such a thing. You are more important to him than me.”
“Are you moving into his bedroom?” asked Nico.
“I hope so,” said Chayton. “That is his decision.”
“Okay,” said Nico, “can we play soccer?”
“After lunch,” said Chayton. “Now, who wants to play math video games?”
“I like the one where the shark eats the numbers,” said Tam.
“Then we’ll play that one,” said Chayton.
Nantan stood in the doorway. He had been going in to change a load of laundry. He found himself unable to breathe. How had he found a man so willing to love him, and love his children? So willing to help with anything at all that needed doing? He realized his heart had expanded, past the boys, past his stallion, past his hydroponics farm, and even past the Wolfpack and the Paiute family that had taken him in. It had reached all the way to a ski slope, and the man he had found there.
Henry had a long conversation with Mrs. Gupta at their favorite restaurant. For Thanksgiving, the main dishes would all be… well, Indian. He ordered two of nearly everything on the menu; samosas, tandoori chicken, spicy masala, curries from mild to eyeball-melting hot, kebabs, and every kind of naan bread they had. No one brought turkey, stuffing, gravy, or anything of the kind. They brought Mexican food to go with the amazing work of Mrs. Gupta. And enough chips and salsa for the teens to mow down.
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Ivy and Callie walked in, and promptly handed the babies off to Gregory and Ace. “We need to eat,” Ivy said. “Parenthood relinquished for two hours.”
Hu and Grace sat down to eat with Tam and Nico, and they started talking in a mix of languages. Most of the other kids from the Nighthawks homeschool showed up, and the parents, except Callie and Bao, were stunned that they played a math game called Buzz, saying Buzz whenever a certain number came up when counting either forward or backward. Done in their various languages, while pigging out on tamales and samosas. Katya passed around her babies, too. Ghost and Killa were waited on hand and foot, and the Wolfpack came and dropped off tidbits for them to eat when their plates looked empty.
Keiran and Pavel appointed themselves on Mommy Watch, helping rotate the babies, making sure the moms had food and drink, and even giving foot rubs.
“Hey, that’s my job,” said Gregory, pushing Pavel aside to rub his wife’s feet. Pavel cracked a joke in Russian that made Katya laugh. Grace was in the corner, doing the dog-training thing.
“Why did you bring the dogs?” asked Ivy, sipping on spiced apple juice.
“They must be trained in crowds, and around other dogs,” said Keiran.
“They will take the test when they return,” said Pavel. “The golden retriever, Juno, is very good with children. She will be a therapy dog for an autistic boy. The pug, Oskar, he is for a little girl who lost half her family in an accident, and is very depressed. The greyhound, Zippa, is for a little girl who was abused and has trouble sleeping.” He laughed. “She is a good sleeping dog.”
“You could specialize in just greyhounds. So many need rescue,” said Inola.
“We pick up from a variety of shelters and specialized rescues,” said Keiran. “We have expanded. There is a waiting list to work with the dogs. So, we have expanded twice. The greyhounds don’t bark and sleep most of the time, but they need vigorous exercise.”