Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2)

by Shannon Myers

  Just as he gets me up, I reach back and stab at him. I mistakenly hit a rib and pain jolts down my arm, almost causing me to drop it.

  He glances a blow off the side of my head and the room spins, but I hold that knife like it’s a lifeline. This time when I stab, the blade sinks in and Landon roars in pain, “You fucking bitch! You stabbed me!”

  He lets go of my hair and I fall forward onto my hands and knees. I try to gather my bearings when he puts me in a headlock and hauls me back up, “I tried to make this easy for you, but now—I’m afraid to say—it’s going to hurt you…a lot.” He applies pressure on my throat, instantly cutting off my air supply.

  My feet kick wildly in the air, black spots dancing in the corners of my eyes. I claw at his arms, his face—anything I can get within reach, but he just applies more pressure and I know this is it.

  My eyes are streaming tears.

  “Beth?”

  I’m dying.

  I can hear David’s voice, but he sounds so far away.

  David

  I’m so sorry

  I tried to save our baby

  I tried to save us both, but I’m not strong enough

  Landon roars in anger and loosens his grip enough for me to suck in a breath before he tightens it again.

  “Oh my God—Beth!”

  I try to open my eyes, but everything goes dark.

  Mike parked and the minute we opened the truck doors, we could hear screaming. I didn’t think twice, I just ran inside, yelling her name. It took us a minute to figure out that the screaming was coming from below us.

  I bound down the basement stairs, gun drawn, and the sight is something that will forever be ingrained in my memory. I grew up hunting—Mike and I would even take weekend trips together every fall. I’m not one to miss my mark, but seeing my wife struggling in Landon’s arms as he slowly chokes her—I’ve never felt so helpless. I’m afraid with as much as she’s struggling, that I’ll hit her by mistake. That’s a risk I can’t take right now. I’m so focused on getting a clear shot that I miss the woman in the corner. I don’t notice her until she lunges at Landon, sinking something in between his shoulder blades. He drops Beth and turns on the woman.

  I scoop Beth’s limp body up in my arms and Mike takes the shot. I lay her back down in the dirt, ready to perform CPR, when she sucks in a ragged breath.

  “David… are you really here?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

  I rock her in my arms and she cries out in pain, “I’ve got you, baby.” I gently lay her back and see that she’s drenched in sweat.

  “Mike— we’re going to need to call an ambulance. She’s in bad shape.” I try to keep the emotion out of my voice, but her body is so battered.

  She screams out in pain again, and I frantically search for what’s hurting her.

  “We’re going to need an ambulance for both of them. We just found Katya Egorichev.”

  I grind my teeth together.

  Mother fucker.

  Beth screams and tries to clench my shirt before losing consciousness again.

  Mike’s face goes white and I follow his gaze to where blood is pooling between my wife’s legs.

  No no no!

  I don’t even see him whip out his phone, I’m so focused on stopping the bleeding.

  “Beth, stay with me baby. Hold onto my voice. We’re going to get you help.”

  Katya rocks back and forth, crying silently. “I tried to save her…I’m so sorry—I tried.”

  Mike wraps his jacket around her shoulders, while giving someone on the phone our GPS coordinates.

  “How long will it take an ambulance to get to us?”

  Beth begins panting and tries to sit up, forcing another gush of blood into the dirt.

  “No, dammit, I don’t have that kind of time. One of the female victims is twenty-eight weeks pregnant and in active labor due to trauma. How fast could you get a chopper in the air?”

  I stare back at Beth’s ashen face. She can’t be in labor…it’s too soon.

  Mike roars into the phone, “Fuck! I’m aware that we’re under a blizzard warning—I’ve got two women who need immediate medical attention!”

  He paces back and forth as I cradle Beth in my arms. I try not to focus on what his actions mean for us, I refuse to let my wife and son die on the dirt floor of an abandoned farmhouse basement. I gently lift her in my arms and she moans.

  “I got you, baby. We’re going to get you help.”

  I nod at Mike as I lift her limp body in my arms, “Tell them I’ll meet them, but I can’t sit here and wait. She doesn’t have that kind of time!”

  Mike repeats my words and lifts Katya, the phone pressed to his ear the entire time. I carry Beth up the stairs, her blood soaking through her jeans and onto my hands.

  Sweet Jesus.

  I need more time with her.

  If that mother fucker isn’t dead yet, I’m going to be the one to personally send him straight to Hell.

  I’m weighted down, like I’m sinking underwater.

  Pain.

  Everything hurts.

  I thought death would be painless, but my body is in agony.

  My abdomen feels like it’s caught in a vice and the squeezing pressure takes my breath away.

  I need to climb out of my body.

  This is excruciating.

  “Beth, baby—don’t you dare leave me! Do you hear my voice? Hold onto it. Stay here!”

  The disembodied voice breaks off in a sob… it sounds like David, but that can’t be right.

  The rocking movement jars my body and I want to cry, but no sound comes out.

  Help me, David.

  Mike and I load both women into his truck. He gestures back toward the house—“Go, I’ll catch up with you!” He tosses me his cell phone, “They’ll get you to the chopper. Hurry—this storm won’t hold back much longer.”

  I don’t need another reminder—I navigate the dirt roads, every bump in the road causing sounds of anguish from both Katya and Beth.

  The 911 operator remains calm, guiding me toward help. Beth is lying across the front seat with her head in my lap. Every little moan or sharp exhale is a reminder that she’s still holding on, but for how much longer?

  I glance up into the rearview mirror and see Katya staring blankly ahead, trembling every so often. I can’t even begin to fathom what she went through for the last four months—if it’s anything like what Beth went through in the last half hour, it’s a damn miracle she’s even alive.

  I turn off the dirt road and back onto the highway when I see police roadblocks. I pull up just as the helicopter touches down onto the roadway and I feel myself choking up.

  I throw the truck into park and gently slide Beth’s head off my lap. One of the officers runs over, “Is the pregnant patient in the front or back seat?”

  I numbly point at the front and he shouts over to the trauma team exiting the helicopter. Within moments, they have her on a stretcher and are getting vitals.

  “BP is dropping!” One nurse calls out to another and I jog after the stretcher.

  “Sir, you’re going to have to follow us. There’s not room.”

  “My wife—that’s my wife and son.”

  The officer places his hand on my arm, “We’ll escort you to the hospital. I understand we have another female victim though?”

  I pinch the bridge of nose. Jesus—Katya. I open up the back door and the officer directs me to the seat next to her. “Can you ride back here with her? I’m going to get you to your wife as fast as possible.”

  I sit down next to Katya, unable to process what’s going on around me.

  I didn’t tell her goodbye.

  I just let them take her. What if that’s the last time I see her—I can’t let myself finish that thought.

  Katya surprises the hell out of me when she reaches across the seat to take my hand in hers.

  It doesn’t matter how fast the cop up front is driving—I feel like I’m play
ing beat the clock.

  Did I give them enough information?

  What if they can’t treat her without me there?

  “We almost there?”

  He nods, “I’ll have you there in five minutes. Hang tight, man.”

  “Female, age thirty-one. Twenty-eight weeks pregnant… possible placental abruption. In route.”

  I drift off again. It hurts too much to stay awake. I’m being poked and prodded—why won’t they leave me alone?

  “Elizabeth, can you open your eyes and look at us?”

  I try to force my eyes open, but they remain closed. I shake my head at the voice.

  “ETA less than five minutes. We’ll need a team prepped and ready to go. Patient has lost a lot of blood…signs of fetal distress.”

  Little man.

  I’m so sorry, baby.

  I failed you.

  Another contraction hits me and I lose my breath. It eases up, only for another one to hit.

  I can’t catch my breath.

  I feel the darkness pulling me under and I’m so tired of fighting it.

  I’m just about to give in when I hear his voice as clearly as if he’s sitting right next to me, “Elizabeth Marie, don’t you dare stop fighting! You keep breathing, in and out. One breath at a time. Keep fighting for my grandbaby in there. He needs his mama to be strong and brave. You hold on and when you pull through, tell that son of mine that I was always proud of him. Always, Elizabeth.”

  John?

  “Elizabeth? We’re landing and we’re going to get you help. Hold on!”

  They pull me from the helicopter and into the frigid cold. I can hear voices all around me. It’s as if the entire hospital is up here on the roof.

  The voices that were just with me yell out information to the voices that are taking me.

  I try to stay alert, but I fade out.

  “Elizabeth, breathe in. This is all going to be over soon.”

  I don’t have a choice.

  The darkness takes over.

  I hear beeping and struggle to open my eyes. The lights damn near blind me so I immediately close them again.

  “There you are! Here let me grab the lights.” The lights dim and I open one eye slowly. When it doesn’t cause piercing pain through my skull, I open the other one.

  I look over at a nurse wearing a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been to Hell and back tonight, haven’t you?”

  I hear a soft hissing sound and realize I’m on oxygen—again. I try to open my mouth, but find that I can’t. I ask through my teeth, “D-David?”

  I wince from the pain it causes and the nurse comes closer, “Bless your heart. Your jaw was broken and it took the surgeon a little bit of time to get it realigned. Unfortunately, they had to wire your jaw shut so it will heal properly.”

  I nod and see my right index finger is splinted. The nurse follows my gaze, “Your finger was broken, along with three of your ribs. You most likely have a concussion as well.”

  I nod again, not knowing what to say. I place my hand on my belly and that’s when I realize, I’m no longer pregnant.

  My eyes fill with tears and I try to brush them away, but my entire face is bruised and the slightest touch sends a jolt of pain from my head down to my toes.

  The nurse steps closer to me, “You had an abruption—your placenta detached from your uterus during the trauma.”

  I think I’ve heard enough. I know she probably means well, but I can’t handle this. The tears fall freely down my face and I let the darkness pull me back under again.

  I rushed into the Covenant emergency room, desperate for information. When a nurse pulled me into a consult room and told me that Beth was undergoing an emergency C-section, I dropped to my knees in anguish.

  I begged and pleaded to be taken to her, but was denied due to the severity of her injuries. When the nurse began listing the preliminary trauma that had been discovered, I came so fucking close to throwing a chair through the window.

  They put me in a family waiting room, where Lauren joined me in pacing. Her face was splotchy from crying, “She’s gotta be okay, David. She’s so strong.”

  I bit my lower lip and looked down at the floor. I noticed my hands and clothes were stained red with her blood and that’s what finally sent me over the edge.

  I sank into a chair and wept. I cried for Beth and the pain she had to endure—pain I should’ve been able to keep her safe from. I also cried for my little boy. He must’ve been so scared.

  I bowed my head and prayed.

  I prayed that he didn’t suffer and then I bargained for my wife’s life.

  “Mr. Greene?” A nurse walks over to me.

  I stand back up, “Is she okay? Can I see her?”

  She places a hand on my arm, “She came through the surgery like a champ. She’s in recovery right now, but as soon as I can—I’ll take you up to her room.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “And Mr. Greene?”

  My eyes meet hers. “Yes?”

  “Congratulations—you’ve got a son. He was born right after midnight. He weighs two pounds, eight ounces—but he’s a fighter. They’ve transferred him to the NICU. As soon as I have more information for you—I’ll be back.”

  I raise my face to the ceiling, “Thank you.”

  My family is safe.

  I open my eyes and the sky is a light shade of grey. I’m still on oxygen and back in a room similar to the one I woke up in after the car accident.

  I have this horrible fear that the doctor is going to come in and tell me that it was all a dream—David and our baby. Tears prick my eyes and I let them spill over.

  What if it all was just a dream?

  I’m in an empty hospital room. I glance down at my body through the top of the hospital gown.

  My ribs are an explosion of black and purple bruises, proof that I lived through a nightmare. I gently push the blankets down and lift up my gown. My tummy is slightly rounded still, but soft to the touch. There’s a fresh horizontal scar and my eyes well up with tears again.

  They had to cut him out of me.

  I lower the gown and pull the covers back up, focusing on grey skies and falling snow beyond the window.

  I try to get comfortable in the hospital chair. My entire body aches, but I refuse to leave her side. I pulled myself together long enough for the nurse to get me into the room with Beth.

  Once I saw her, I fell apart again. Her face is so swollen, she’s almost unrecognizable. The doctor said her jaw was broken in two places and that he had to wire it shut so it has time to heal. She suffered a concussion, broken ribs, scalp lacerations, and a broken finger as well.

  He pulled me outside the room and told me that she most likely suffered blunt force trauma to the abdomen and that led to placental abruption—where the placenta is torn away from the uterus. Landon could have killed them both.

  Had we not gotten there when we did…they both would’ve died.

  Beth lost a lot of blood, but by some miracle, doesn’t need a transfusion.

  “David?”

  I jump up from the chair and rush over to her, “I’m here, baby.” She begins weeping and I take her gently into my arms, “Shhhh…I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  Her hand shakily comes up to my face, “David, I’m sorry. I tried—I tried to fight for him.” Her voice breaks again and I realize that no one’s told her.

  I turn her carefully so that she’s facing me, “Beth—baby, you did so good. You protected our little guy.”

  “What do you mean?” I know he’s trying to soften the blow, but there’s no way to make this better. They took a piece of my heart when they cut my son from my womb.

  He strokes the back of my hand gently, “He’s alive, baby. Our son made it.”

  My chin quivers and I start crying again, “He’s okay?—but it’s too soon. We never even came up with a name.”

  David looks away from me and focuses on the swirling snow, his voice is almost
a whisper. “He has a name…Kaden John Greene.”

  “Kaden? How did you come up with that?” I hope he can still clearly understand me as I’m talking through my teeth.

  He looks back at me, “It means, ‘fighter.’ When they told me he made it, I knew he was going to need a name that was as strong as he was. Is it okay?”

  I nod, too overcome to immediately speak.

  I take a deep breath, my ribs protesting angrily. I push through the pain. “I heard him.”

  David looks at me, confused. “Kaden? You heard him?”

  I shake my head, “I heard your dad’s voice. In the helicopter. I wanted to give up—I was exhausted and my entire body hurt. I was ready to quit fighting when I heard him. He told me to be brave for his grandbaby. So, I fought until the nurses took over.”

  David lowers his head against mine, his eyes bright with unshed tears, “He always had a knack for showing up when things were falling apart—I’m glad to know that dying couldn’t stop him from looking out for you and Kaden.”

  I swallow hard, “He said something else too.”

  David’s eyes hold mine.

  I continue, “He said to tell you that he was always proud of you, David.”

  He covers his eyes with his hands and sobs before wrapping me up in his arms.

  4 Days Later…

  It turns out Beth was right. We lived through the “storm of the century.” The snow started falling almost immediately after we arrived at the hospital and it didn’t let up for over twenty-four hours.

  We’ve spent almost every waking minute in the NICU with our baby boy. They took him there right after delivery and intubated him.

  We were both emotional wrecks when we stepped foot into the NICU that first time. Beth got out of her wheelchair and stepped up to the incubator. “Hey Kaden, it’s your mama. I love—” Her voice cut off and I looked over to see she was weeping silently. I wrapped my arms around her and joined in. His tiny little body was glowing blue under the bili lights—something that was supposed to help prevent jaundice. It was fucking painful seeing the various tubes and wires running out of his little body, knowing he should still be in Beth’s tummy.