by Rick Hautala
“Don’t take it personally, ma’m,“ the officer said. “Most of these asshol—excuse me, most of these people don’t even know what they’re protesting.“
Sheila nodded, telling herself there wasn’t a tight quaver in the man’s voice.
“I think they just ain’t got anything better to do on a shitty—I mean, on a lousy night like this, you know?“
“Really?“ Sheila replied. “I’d think they’d just as soon stay home to get out of this horrible rain, if nothing else.“
She glanced up at the night sky, which glowed with an eerie green haze of pollutants and neon light. Rainwater beaded on her facemask, sizzling as it ran down the front of her rubber raincoat.
“Actually, I doubt if many of ’em even have a home, ma’m,“ the officer said, narrowing his gaze as he looked at her steadily. Sheila squirmed, feeling as though it was written on her forehead in bright red letters that she, too, was one of the thousands of homeless people in the inner city. Even through the lights reflecting off his facemask, Sheila could read in his expression the thought that was most likely echoing in his mind—
You’re so young, so pretty... What a pity that you’ve decided to do something like this!
But wasn’t it obvious that she didn’t care any more?
Why else would she be coming here?
Like a lot of the people out there in the crowd and most of the homeless people she knew, she was long past either caring or hoping that her life could improve.
She could have easily entered the building through the gaping hole in the glass door, but the officer unlocked the door, snapped the door latch, and held it open for her.
“You can leave your protective gear in the receptacle to your right,“ he said mechanically. “Doctor Scott’s office is straight down the hall. The last door to your left.“
Sheila made momentary eye contact with him and smiled briefly, then lowered her gaze as she stepped into the brightly lit corridor. As soon as she was inside the building and the door closed behind her, another roar of outrage burst from the crowd. Several voices rose louder, and then a shrill scream filled the night, followed by a short, thumping burst of gunfire.
After shucking off her coat and facemask, Sheila deposited them in the glass-lined barrel beside the door. Then, taking a shuddering breath, she started down the hall, past the row of nervous-looking armed guards.
2
The fluorescent lights were bright and instantly brought tears to her eyes. She willed herself not to think about what might be happening outside and reminded herself that the crowd wasn’t there to protest her personally. It was just that she hadn’t been ready to face such open, violent hostility. The doctor she had spoken with briefly at the Public Health Clinic yesterday had warned her about the Right-to-Lifers who gathered around the Pro-Choice Clinic day and night to jeer and threaten anyone who entered. She knew she should have foreseen this when he had insisted on a police escort for her to the Clinic, but the most demanding thought tumbling around inside her head was, How can these people say they respect life and want to protect it when they act like such animals themselves?
Her footsteps faltered as she moved down the corridor, her heels clicking like quick hatchet chops on the linoleum. The harsh, white lighting and the stinging antiseptic smell frightened her even more than the hot acid rain or the angry mob outside. She tried not to think about what she was doing but—obviously—she couldn’t stop. The single clearest thought she had was that the tiny life growing like a cancer inside her had to be terminated—
Now!
Tonight!
Before she could think and fret about it any longer.
She was almost nauseous with the thought of another human being—her child—being born into a world of misery like this. If she had even a slender hope that the world might eventually get better, she might consider carrying her baby to term, but not now...not with the world going to hell the way it was.
“Miss...uh, Miss Dobson?“
The voice caught her unawares, making her squeal and jump as she looked up. Lost in her own thoughts, she had arrived at the end of the corridor. An elderly man with thin wisps of white hair was looking at her from behind a desk stacked high with papers and folders. His eyeglasses reflected the bars of light overhead as he pushed himself to his feet and came around the desk to greet her.
Not knowing what to do, Sheila fumbled inside her tunic for the legal forms the doctor had told her she would have to present at the Pro-Choice Clinic. She hadn’t read through them, as she had promised she would. She hadn’t been able to. In the eighteen miserable years she had spent on the streets, what use had she ever found for reading? It would never have kept her warm at night or gotten her a hot meal or stopped all those lonely, desperate, disease-ridden men from having their way with her in the back alleys. She knew what an “abortion“ was, even if she didn’t know the exact details of the procedure, and that was all she needed to know. The doctor at the pre-natal clinic had tried to counsel her, telling her over and over how precious life was. He tried so hard, in fact, he had started sounding a little like one of those Right-to-Life protesters outside; but she had cut him off, insisting that she knew exactly what she was doing, and nothing was going to make her change her mind.
“Look, I don’t need a sermon, all right?“ she had told the doctor before scrawling her mark on the necessary legal forms. “I’m happy just knowing there will be one less miserable soul on this horrible planet.“
He had finally agreed with her and, after witnessing her signature, had sent her on her way after making her promise that she would at least read through the papers so she would know what she was getting into.
But, of course, she hadn’t.
She hadn’t even tried to find someone who could have read them to her, and now—here she was, ready to follow through on her decision.
“I’m Doctor Scott,“ the elderly man said, extending a frail-looking hand, which Sheila took and shook gently. His hand was the first warm, dry thing she had felt in days, and the touch instantly brought tears to her eyes.
No! she told herself. I’m not getting emotional! It’s just the bright lights that are doing that!
“There, there,“ Doctor Scott said, gently patting the back of her hand. Sheila felt an impulse to reach out and hug him, but she pushed it back and squared her shoulders before handing him the legal papers.
“Yes...yes...everything appears to be in order,“ he said softly, nodding as he rifled through the pages. He walked back into his office, slipped the forms into the top envelope on his desk, then rejoined her in the hall.
“Would you like to take a moment or two for some coffee or juice? Or perhaps you’d like a cigarette or something?“
“No,“ Sheila said, biting her lower lip and shaking her head. Her voice sounded almost like a dog, barking.
“If you’d like, you know, we have several ministers of various religious denominations on call who are willing to counsel you if you’d like to—“
“You mean like the man leading the chant outside?“ she said, cutting him off sharply. She shook her head curtly. “No thanks!“ She studied Doctor Scott a moment, then added, “You know, I can see it in your eyes. You want to talk me out of this, too. Don’t you? You really want to get me to reconsider my choice. But believe me, I know what I’m doing. Okay? I’ve made up my mind, and that’s that. I ain’t gonna change it, so let’s just do it and get it done with. All right?“
“Sure, sure,“ Doctor Scott said, smiling wanly. He hesitated for a moment as if he were about to say more, but then he nodded. Taking her by the arm, he directed her across the hall to the closed door opposite his office.
3
Sheila almost fainted when he pushed open the door to reveal the operating room and the vast array of medical equipment. She started to say something but cut herself off when Doctor Scott gently directed her over to the center of the room where there was a large, padded chair surrounded by banks of monit
ors and other medical equipment. She had no idea what any of this stuff was for.
“You can undress behind the screen there. Put this on,“ Doctor Scott said, handing her a thin cotton hospital gown that opened in the back.
Sheila shivered as she walked behind the screen and after hurriedly undressing, slipped on the gown. It did nothing to cut the chill in the room. She smoothed the cloth down over her swollen abdomen, which stuck straight out, carrying high. She thought she looked like she had swallowed a watermelon seed that had miraculously grown large inside her. Her teeth were chattering when she came out from behind the screen. Hugging her arms across her breasts, she walked up to the chair.
“Please. Sit down. Try to make yourself comfortable,“ Doctor Scott said, nodding toward the chair as he busied himself arranging some of the equipment. “I’ll only be a moment.
He went to the sink and started scrubbing his hands with disinfectant soap while Sheila took a seat in the chair. She winced as she settled her bare butt onto the cold, padded cushion. The gown flapped open on the sides when she slipped her feet into the leather stirrups of the footrests. There were also straps on the arms of the chair, but she crossed her arms to keep away from them. She hoped the doctor wasn’t going to use them on her. There was a wide gap in the front of the seat that made it look a little like a toilet seat. An electric current of fear passed through her, and she found herself wishing that she had talked at least a little bit more with the doctor at the pre-natal clinic before coming over here. Not knowing exactly what to expect next made her stomach tighten with tension.
“I’m sorry, but I have to secure your arms, too,“ Doctor Scott said mildly.
“Do you really have to?“ Sheila asked, her voice cracking.
“I’m afraid so,“ Doctor Scott said, nodding as he tore open the Velcro fasteners of the padded straps. Shelia winced as she placed her arms inside the restraints. The doctor pulled them snugly shut, but not so tight that they hurt. Then he secured the belts on the footrests over her bare feet. An icy ripple of nervousness spread up from her stomach to her chest, making it difficult to breathe, but as if to convince herself that she was doing the right thing, Sheila looked down at her swollen stomach and sneered.
“Say goodbye to a life of misery,“ she whispered.
“There... You’re all set,“ Doctor Scott said as if he hadn’t heard her comment. “Now, the first thing I have to do is give you an injection.“
He produced a hypodermic needle, held it up to the light, and then pulled up the left sleeve of the hospital gown, daubed Sheila’s skin with alcohol, and slid the needle into the exposed vein. For an instant, she felt a sharp sting like an insect bite. Then a warm flooding sensation spread underneath her skin. A few seconds later, a wave of soft dizziness swept over her. The lights in the room went softly out of focus.
“It’s not too late now, is it—?“ she asked, hearing the tension in her voice.
“What? To change your mind?“ Doctor Scott said, frowning with concern. “Oh, no. Not as long as I haven’t given you the second shot. We can still—“
“No, I mean for me to be doing this,“ Sheila said groggily. “Tin-pan Man, a friend of mine on the street, told me that—you know-that an abortion’s kinda dangerous...especially when the pregnancy is this far along.“
“Oh, certainly not,“ Doctor Scott said with a sympathetic smile. “Actually, we prefer to wait until the third trimester. It makes it all that much easier, really.“
He grabbed some electrode leads and, after smearing them with a thick, clear jelly, lifted the edge of her gown and taped them to her swollen abdomen. He adjusted the array of dials until he was satisfied, then walked behind the chair, out of sight. Sheila heard a clatter of glass and a high-pitched squeaking sound as he rolled a cart over beside the chair. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large bottle, which was filled with a clear yet heavy-looking liquid. It reminded her of the fruit syrup in the deserts they serve at the soup kitchen. Several metal bars stuck out from the top lid and were connected by wires to the machinery.
“Whaz’ that?“ Sheila asked, surprised by the thick drag in her voice.
“All part of the preparations,“ Doctor Scott said. “You don’t have to concern yourself with it.“ He covered one of her hands with both of his, squeezing her almost desperately. “Tell me. How are you feeling?“
Sheila shrugged but found the effort to be almost too much. The light in the room was growing dim and fuzzy around the edges, shattering into glowing blue splinters. Every sound she or the doctor made seemed oddly magnified. The sound of her own breathing was ragged and irritating, like someone was ripping paper close to her ear.
“If you’re absolutely certain that you want to continue...“ Doctor Scott said.
Sheila barely reacted when he took another hypodermic needle from the cabinet, filled it with a clear liquid from a vial, and then slipped it into her arm. She didn’t even feel it this time, but within seconds, a strange, dull leadenness embraced her body. She knew it was futile to try, but if she had, she was positive she wouldn’t have been able to raise even her pinky finger. Her lower jaw felt like it was made of iron when she said, “This...won’t...hurt...now...will...it?“
Doctor Scott smiled reassuringly and said, “Oh, not at all. The immediate pain is over. There’s also a sedative in the first injection to calm you down.“
He walked over to the intercom beside the door, pressed the red button, and said into the speaker, “Nurse Becker. Please report to O.R. 22.“ Then he went to one of the cabinets, pulled open a drawer, and withdrew a scalpel. After peeling off the protective plastic covering, he held it up, turning it back and forth in his hand so the blade caught the light. The reflection hurt her eyes like a sudden bolt of lightning. Her throat felt like it was packed with sand when she asked, “What’s...that...for?“
Doctor Scott looked at her, his bushy eyebrows rising with concern.
“Why, to cut the baby out, of course,“ he said.
His voice seemed to be coming from the far end of a long echoing tube. It took several seconds for the meaning of what he’d said to penetrate Sheila’s mind. Realization dawned slowly, rolling over her, like the deep growl of distant thunder.
“Didn’t they review the entire procedure with you?“ Doctor Scott asked.
Sheila wasn’t sure if her head moved or not, but she tried hard to shake it back and forth in denial.
“I—well, you see, that first shot I gave you was to relax you, for the operation,“ he said. “The second needle was the suicide solution.“
“Su...i...cide?“
“Yes... Of course,“ Doctor Scott said. “Now, all that’s left to do, once Nurse Becker gets here, is to make an incision in your uterus and take out your baby.“
A distant rush of sadness filled her, and a dull stirring of fear spread like fire beneath her skin as she stared up into the doctor’s glistening eyes. She tried to lick her lips so she could speak but couldn’t no matter how hard she tried.
“But you don’t have to worry,“ Doctor Scott went on. His voice had descended to a deep, soothing buzz. “You’re way past feeling much of anything now. Once we’ve removed your baby, we’ll give you the third and final shot. That’s the lethal one.“
“Le...thal...?“
“Yes. So you can die now, assured that your baby will continue to develop and be maintained by the best life support systems available until he or she’s ready to be ’born.’ Then we’ll find a suitable family for...was it boy or girl?“ He glanced at a chart on the table beside him and smiled. “Yes, your son. We’ll carry him to term and see that he’s adopted.“ When he was finished speaking, he shrugged helplessly and shook his head.
“But... I...“ Sheila found it almost impossible to speak. “I...don’t...“
“What?“ Doctor Scott asked, leaning close to her. He stared at her, his face an exaggerated mask of surprise. Sheila thought he looked more like an enraged demon than a doctor, but
she attributed it the drugs. “Do you mean to tell me that you actually thought we were going to destroy your fetus?“
His expression hardened into one of deepening concern.
“When you first came in here, I asked if you knew what you were getting into. Don’t tell me you don’t know about the changes the government made in the abortion laws! It’s been on the holovid news every night.“
Sheila tried to shake her head but couldn’t move. Her mouth was locked tightly shut, and all feeling had left her body. Her eyes remained wide open and staring, unblinking, as she stared at the ceiling. It was vibrating with subtle waves of blue light and deeper shadow. She sensed motion behind her and wondered if the assisting nurse had entered the room.
“Surely, you must have heard about it on the news,“ Doctor Scott continued. “Why, just two months ago, the government finally accepted the medical reports that showed that, because of an accumulation of environmental pollutants, pregnant mothers can no longer carry their babies to full term. Usually in the seventh month of gestation, all fetuses are removed from their mothers and put through a thorough detoxification in artificial wombs. You know—test tubes babies. The government’s policy on abortion has also been changed, so we’re now required by law to save the baby and abort the mother.“
Sheila was desperate to speak or move, but her mind was so clouded she could barely think. Her body felt as though it was encased in clear, solid plastic. She would have opened her mouth and screamed if she could have.
“Look, Miss...uh, Miss Dobson,“ Doctor Scott said. His voice had an edge of resignation, and his expression was one of deep regret. “I—I’m awfully sorry about this—this terrible misunderstanding on your part, but it’s absolutely too late now. That second injection I gave you is working quite fast. If I don’t proceed, you’ll be left paralyzed. But don’t worry. The other injection acts fast. You’ll be dead within minutes.“ He glanced at something behind her head and nodded. “I really must get to work now if I’m going to save your baby.“