The Ortega Project

by Linnea Alexis

  “Of course.”

  “While you were out, Alex insisted on helping me test the specimens. I should have stopped him. Looking back now, I believe that he may have been mildly allergic to garlic, as were the vampires who died. Our tests show garlic is an ingredient of the insect repellent. Alex didn’t go into anaphylactic shock, but the garlic attacked his already weakened respiratory system. His lungs…” He chewed his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.” Doc patted Roman’s shoulder. “And you didn’t do yourself any good either. Your little blood-letting stunt cost you over half your blood volume and you went into shock. It was also hard on your heart.”

  Roman sniffed. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and glanced at it. His stomach churned. “Can you believe it? I’ve got a fucking nosebleed.” His voice trembled as he reached for a tissue on the end table. “And this bloody nose I didn’t get from Gabriel.”

  Doc hurried to the sink, rolled out a handful of paper towels, and wet them under the faucet. He wheeled the stool closer to Roman, and gently cleaned his face. “Are you in any pain?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Only tired.”

  “If you experience any pain, please let me know and I’ll give you something to make you comfortable.”

  Seeing his own shed blood, startled Roman. Except for physical confrontations, he never got nosebleeds. Was something wrong? Was the end drawing near for him, as well? He prayed to live long enough to meet his only child. And when he thought of Grace and their unborn baby, he closed his eyes. The last time he and Grace were together, things did not end well. Right now he would give anything to see her, hold her, and beg her forgiveness for being such an asshole.

  “I’m sorry, Grace,” he whispered. “Alejandro.” His mind reeled with worry.

  His jaw seized. A sharp pain pierced his chest, and he grasped Doc’s arm.

  “Roman, what’s wrong?”

  A crushing weight settled on his chest. “Pain. I. Can’t. Breathe.”

  “Code Blue. Laboratory Lounge,” Doc shouted.

  Pandemonium broke out. A tech ran out of the lounge and shouted Doc’s words.

  Roman’s cell phone rang.

  And everything turned black.

  Again.

  37

  Grace

  Labor pains started at midnight.

  Too often Grace had thought she was in labor only to discover the pains were Braxton Hicks contractions. What was happening now was different. Her contractions were ten minutes apart—growing in frequency and intensity. Too nervous to sleep, she paced between her bedroom and the kitchen. She put off waking Deanna right away, deciding instead to wait for a sign that labor had truly begun.

  She waited. And waited.

  At four o’clock in the morning her water broke, giving her the confirmation she needed. The painful contraction that followed hit hard enough to drop her to her knees. Her heart pounded with fear and excitement.

  When the pain subsided, she pulled herself to stand and hobbled to Deanna’s bedroom. “Deanna, wake up,” she cried, pounding on the closed door. “The baby’s coming.”

  Deanna flung open the door. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Are you sure it’s not a false alarm? The baby isn’t due for a couple weeks.”

  “Either I peed my pants or my water broke,” she wailed glancing at the soaked crotch of her sweatpants.

  Deanna flicked on the bedroom light and after a few “Oh, my God” yelps, snatched a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved sweatshirt from a dresser drawer and raced into her bathroom. “Stay right there,” she yelled.

  “I need to change my pants!”

  “Go ahead, but hurry,” Deanna shouted. “Did you call Roman?”

  “Yes. But he’s not answering. We broke up over three months ago. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d—.” Another contraction attacked and she doubled over. “Oh, God.”

  Deanna, wearing only a bra and panties, poked her head out of the bathroom. “Whoa. Back up a second. What did you just say about Roman? I noticed he wasn’t coming around, I assumed he was restricted to the—”

  “We had a huge fight and broke up.” She leaned against the doorjamb, and waited for the contraction to diminish.

  “Tough. Call him anyway and tell him to get his ass to the hospital. He’s about to become a father. And if you don’t call him, I will. Damn him. This wasn’t an Immaculate Conception. It’s his kid, too.”

  Still upset over how Roman had treated her during their fight; a part of her didn’t even want to notify him she was in labor. But Grace decided to be the better person in their shaky relationship and honor her promise to let him know when the time came.

  She redialed his number and, after four rings, her call went to voice mail. Angry and disappointed, instead of leaving a message, she hung up. “Damn you, Roman!”

  When the pain faded—and before the next one started—she seized the opportunity, and changed into a new pair of sweatpants.

  Where was Roman? Had something terrible happened to him? Deciding to give him one more chance, she called again. This time, instead of his phone ringing, her call went directly to voice mail. “I’m in labor,” she shouted and hung up.

  Another contraction struck—much stronger than the previous one—and she doubled over in pain. She retched. Their baby was ready to be born and wasn’t going to wait for his father.

  She waited out the contraction, and dialed Roman’s number one more time. Voice mail. “Damn, you. I’m having our baby,” she yelled into the phone. “I’m on my way to the hospital.” Her contractions were seven minutes apart.

  * * *

  Roman

  * * *

  Roman woke with a start. Bright overhead lights stung his eyes and he snapped them shut. He swung his arm over his face, blocking out the light.

  Where was he? Shading his eyes from the glare, he surveyed his surroundings. He was on a damn gurney again.

  “What the hell happened? Where’s Alex?” His voice sounded weak and unrecognizable to himself.

  “I’ve given you something for pain,” Doc explained.

  Far away, the muffled ring of his cell phone sounded.

  He gasped. “My phone,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Grace

  * * *

  Grace had endured four hours of hard labor in a birthing suite. Her feet were in stirrups, and a white sheet covered her from the waist down. Each contraction grew stronger and more painful than the previous one. She wondered if she could, or wanted, to endure the pain any longer. Kill me now. Sweat soaked her hair and trickled down her face.

  A young female nurse entered, too chipper for her own good. “How are you doing, Mom?”

  “Is something wrong?” Grace asked. “Why is it taking so long?”

  “Labor generally takes longer with the first baby. Sometimes it lasts several hours. But don’t worry. You’re doing fine.” The nurse lifted the sheet covering Grace’s legs. “Sorry, but I have to do this.”

  “No,” Grace screamed. “Don’t touch me. The pain will start again.”

  The nurse ignored her plea and performed a pelvic check anyway.

  Deanna pressed a cold, damp towel across Grace’s forehead.

  “God, no.” She gripped Deanna’s hand during a particularly hard contraction. “When will they stop?” Grace whimpered.

  “As soon as your baby decides to make an appearance.” The nurse glanced at the monitor next to Grace’s bed. “It won’t be long now. Scoot your bottom as far toward me as possible. I’ll get the doctor.”

  She clasped Deanna’s hand and, with her assistance, did as she was told. “Is the baby coming?”

  “Anytime now.”

  “Where’s Roman? He promised to be with me when our baby is born. Do you think he’s—?”

  “Right now, he should be the last thing on your mind.” Deanna squeezed her friend’s hand. “You’re about to have a baby, Grace!”

  For month
s, Grace had worried about her baby. Was he or she human? She was about to find out. “I’m scared, Deanna. What if the baby’s a—”

  Dr. Shelby, in green scrubs and a surgical mask hanging from his neck, rushed into the birthing suite. He straddled the stool in front of her spread thighs and pushed them further apart. “Here we go, Grace. This is it.”

  The nurse zipped in and wheeled a tray next to the doctor. He pulled up his mask and the nurse handed him a fresh pair of latex gloves, which he quickly slipped on. He inserted fingers inside her, causing another painful attack.

  She screamed.

  “Your baby’s crowning, Grace. Push!” the doctor shouted.

  She groaned and tried pushing. “I can’t. I’m too tired.”

  “Yes, you can. Harder. Push harder,” he said.

  The nurse grinned. “I can see the head. Your baby’s got a lot of dark hair.” She glanced at the monitor again. “It won’t be long now.”

  “Push, Grace, Push,” Deanna and the nurse said in unison

  Grace gritted her teeth. “I can’t. I’m pushing as hard as I can.”

  “Yes, you can,” Deanna shouted.

  “One more push,” the doctor said. “That’s all I need. Just one. And this time, give it everything you’ve got.”

  She grunted and screamed and the baby left her body. The pain, unbearable before, miraculously disappeared. She held her breath until she heard the newborn cry. Exhausted and relieved, she wept.

  Tears streamed down Deanna’s face. “You did it, Grace. You did it. I’m so proud of you.” She hugged her and dissolved into sobs.

  The doctor held the baby up for her to see. “It’s a boy.”

  Grace gasped. “He’s beautiful.”

  Dr. Shelby handed her son to the nurse, who placed him in Grace’s eager arms.

  Her son made grunting sounds.

  “To think I had this wonderful life inside me.”

  “He’s perfect,” Deanna gushed.

  “I know.” Grace ran her fingers over his pudgy cheeks. Tears filled her eyes. “He looks like Roman.” She smiled at Deanna. “I told you it was a boy.”

  But was he human? She swallowed hard. “Doctor, is he okay?”

  “He’s perfect. Your boy has ten little fingers and ten little toes.”

  The nurse approached the bed. “I hate to do this, Mom, but I need him for a few minutes to clean him up. But don’t you worry; I’ll give him right back.” She plucked the baby from Grace’s arms and carried him behind a screen.

  “While she’s doing that, let me stitch you up,” he said. “You tore during delivery. You should feel only pressure, but no pain.”

  The doctor was right. No pain. If he hadn’t told her what he was doing, she would never have known he was stitching her up.

  Deanna’s eyes glistened as she leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Your face is glowing. You look like an angel.”

  Totally spent, Grace closed her eyes and waited to hold her baby.

  Grace’s eyelids popped open. How long had she slept? Except for a dim light over her bed, the room was dark. Next to her bed, a clear, Plexiglas bassinette held her tiny, cocoon-wrapped little treasure.

  Where was Roman? Why didn’t he answer his phone? After all they’d been through, she couldn’t believe his anger kept him from being present at the birth of his only child. Or was the reason for his no-show be something worse?

  She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and dialed his number. An unfamiliar voice answered.

  “Roman, is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “In case you’re interested. I just had our baby. I left you voice mails,” she snapped, trying to make her voice sound as sarcastic as possible.

  He responded with a labored cough. “How are you doing? And the baby…our baby, is it a boy or a girl?”

  Roman’s voice sounded weak, filling her with compassion, and her anger disappeared. “We did it, Roman. We made a normal little boy. And he’s perfect.”

  “Thank you for giving me the most wonderful gift…a child.” His voice faltered.

  Fearing he was near death, as he’d warned, cold shivers skittered up and down her spine. “What’s wrong?” she asked, hugging the phone with both hands.

  “Alex died,” he answered in a raspy voice.

  Her hand flew to cover her mouth. A sick feeling landed in the pit of her stomach. Not Alex. “When? How?”

  “Early this morning. Complications from pneumonia.” His voice shook. “He’s gone, Grace. Alex is gone.”

  Aware of how close he and Alex were, her heart ached for Roman, for his loss. “I’m sorry. How are you doing?”

  “Not so good,” he answered in a weak voice.

  “You sound…different,” she said, her voice breaking. “What’s happening?”

  “I had a heart attack. Can you believe that? A fucking heart attack.”

  Impossible. The last time she saw him, he’d been healthy and energetic. Her mind grew numb. He was dying. Not now! She dropped her phone on the bed and stared straight ahead.

  Her trance broke at the sound of their baby crying. She limped to the bassinette and picked up their son. When she held him next to her breast, he stopped crying. Loneliness gripped her, leaving an empty feeling in her heart. Roman should have shared this moment.

  The lit-up screen on her cell phone reminded her that Roman still waited on the other end of the line. Cradling her son, she propped the phone between her ear and shoulder.

  “Roman, are you still there? Yes, that’s our baby. He’s got a full head of thick black hair just like you.” She cried softly.

  “I’m sorry for being such an asshole. Please forgive—”

  “Only if you forgive me.”

  “Deal.” He coughed. “I love you, Grace.”

  Tears of relief streamed down her face. “I love you, too. Let’s start fresh. No lies. No secrets. No fighting. We’ve created a precious baby and I can’t wait to show you how wonderful he is,” she whispered. “I want you to name him.”

  “Let’s name him after you,” he answered immediately.

  His answer caught her off guard. “But Grace is a girl’s name.”

  “Because you’re a preacher’s kid, and you gave me an angel.” His voice hitched. “I want to name him Christian.”

  She choked back sobs. “How about Christian Alexander? After Alex.”

  The infant fussed, drawing her attention away from the phone conversation. Bundling him tighter, she held him closer. “I’ll send you a picture to show you how beautiful he is.”

  “I want to hold him in my arms, but I’m too weak to leave on my own. And if someone brings me to you, Crawford will follow me to your apartment and snatch him. He as much as told me he would. And I don’t want to give him the opportunity.”

  “But it’s worth the risk. You need to meet your son.” Grace missed Roman and longed to hold him as tightly as she held their infant. “If you can’t come to us, I’ll bring him to you in a few days when he’s stronger.”

  After more coaxing, he agreed to help sneak their child into the institute. She reached for a tissue, still choking back sobs. “Roman, if I’m going to pull this off, I’ll need someone on the inside to smuggle us in. Is there anyone at the lab you can trust?”

  38

  Grace

  “It’s time,” Grace announced.

  Deanna closed her laptop and set it on the coffee table. She glanced at her watch. “You ready?”

  “Whenever you are.” Grace’s stomach churned with excitement. Tonight she would introduce her week-old son to his father. Eager to please Roman, she wore the blue angora sweater he liked. She bundled Christian in a hand-made quilt and carried him to the front door. She snatched her navy jacket from the coat rack, and they were on their way.

  As expected, traffic on Ortega Highway was sparse at nine o’clock in the evening. Their trip was problem free—even traffic lights cooperated. And with speed-demon Deanna behind the wheel of
her Jetta, they arrived at the institute in record time.

  The guard shack was empty. At the security gate, Deanna turned off the headlights and rolled down the window. She punched the access code, provided by Roman, onto the keypad. The gate swung open and she drove onto the property.

  According to plan, the outside lights had been turned off. Lady Luck continued to smile on them. A full moon provided enough light to drive safely without headlights. Except for a dark, late model sedan, the lot was empty. Deanna reached the building and turned left, toward the laboratory wing. Once there, she pulled up to the entrance and stopped.

  “We’re here.” Deanna slipped out of the driver’s seat and hurried to open the back door.

  Grace undid her seat belt and stepped outside. She smiled at her sleeping baby. Through all her jostling to ready him for the outing, it was a miracle he remained asleep. Reaching inside, she undid the belt securing Christian’s car seat, and lifted him to her chest. Her tiny son wriggled in her arms, but didn’t awaken.

  “I’m scared to death. Say a little prayer no one sees us,” she whispered.

  “Will do. Good luck.” Deanna touched the baby’s face, and handed Grace a bottle filled with breast milk. “See you later, cutie,” she whispered to Christian, and gave Grace a thumbs up. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  Holding her child close to her chest, Grace glanced at the security camera over the door. When the camera showed no signs of life, she exhaled. So far, so good. She knocked lightly on the door and it opened immediately. A man in a lab coat, stood in the doorway.

  Eyeing him suspiciously, she hoped he was Roman’s inside man. “Dr. Peters?”

  “You’re right on time.” He peeked around her to scan the parking lot. “Hurry.”

  Tightening her grasp on the baby, she stepped inside. As she followed Peters, their footsteps echoed in the stark, white hallway.