Cyborg Heart

by Anna Lewis

  “I don’t know,” Bonnie snapped into action. “But that’s what’s happening and we just need to deal with it. Anything else will come much later on. Just breathe and focus on one step at a time.”

  One step at a time… she felt like she could do that. Well, she was going to have to anyway…

  Talia quickly learned that giving birth was the most painful experience that she would ever go through. She was red hot with screaming agony for hours and hours on end, and normal pain killers did not help; not that there were many around, what with post-war rationing still in effect. She clung to Wade’s hands, dug her nails into B’s skin, but even inflicting pain on others didn’t seem to make a difference.

  “Kill me!” she eventually screamed out to anyone that would listen. “Just kill me!” She didn’t know much, but she was sure that death would be preferable to this…

  And with that statement, everything started to fade and Talia couldn’t cling to the light. The darkness was coming for her and it wanted to swallow her up. She blacked out.

  ***

  “Good morning, mommy,” Bonnie grinned as Talia came back around. “I’ve got someone who wants to meet you.”

  Bonnie held the baby in her arms tenderly. The baby was pink-skinned and wrapped in a soft shawl.

  “Oh!” said Talia, utter joy cracking her face into a smile, tears forming like dew in her eyes.

  “It’s a boy,” said Bonnie.

  “Is… is he okay?” she practically whispered. “Is he… human?”

  “He’s both,” she nodded, handing him over. As Talia held her new born baby for the very first time, an intense wave of love crashed over her and she instantly knew that she would do anything for this child, no matter what. She would fight anyone that tried to hurt him, kill anyone that hated him; he was hers and it no longer mattered what he was.

  All of the stress, all the illness that she’d been through, it was all worth it to have this amazing child by her side.

  “He’s definitely a hybrid, I’ve seen him shift shape a few times already, which is normal with Ec’dua babies too, but the main thing is that he’s happy and healthy, and that you’ve done an amazing job to get him here.”

  Talia glanced up at the three faces around her – B, Wade, and Bonnie, and she instantly felt like she could tackle anything now. There was a sense inside of her that she was stronger now, that enduring the pregnancy, giving birth and having the baby had made her tougher, and that would get her through anything.

  “What shall we call him?” she asked them all, staring back at her handsome babies face.

  “Well he’s an important child,” Bonnie told her quite seriously. “He’s the first of his kind and he genuinely has the potential to change the world, so whatever you call him, it needs to signify that.”

  “Let’s call him Ethan,” I say smiling brightly. “It means strong, and this baby is going to have to be strong to face this world.”

  “Ethan,” Wade and B agreed quickly.

  “I love it,” said B.

  “Me too. Let’s go with that,” said Wade.

  Sensing that Talia needed a moment alone with her child, B, Wade, and Bonnie left the room, allowing her to say the things that were building up inside. There were some good points to the mind reading thing after all!

  “Well little Ethan,” she said, snuggling her nose against the most gorgeous creature that she’d ever laid her eyes on. “Things are going to be hard for us both from now on, but honestly I can promise you one thing – I will always love you, I will always look after you, I will always be here.” Talia considered the future for a moment, before speaking out again. “I mean, it might be hard, but it’ll be good too, I can promise you that. You’re important, you’re going to change the world and that’s something to be really proud of. You are living, wonderful proof that humans and Ec’dua have a bright future, together.”

  She lay her head back on the pillow, smiling to herself. It was all worth it now, all the fighting, all the loss, all the heartbreak. It was all worth it to have this little gorgeous boy in her arms, and her wonderful relationship with B and Wade. Nothing else mattered.

  Epilogue

  By the time Ethan was two years old, the entire world was a different place. He was considered normal now, and although he was the first hybrid, he certainly wasn’t the only one. The world had started to take a different view on inter-species relationships, and now things were done much more in line with Ec’dua ways.

  Love was freer, everyone was more accepting, and the planet was a much happier place to live in.

  The love that Talia, Wade and B shared might have just been for them, but what they’d really done was opened the door for everyone else to have a happier life too. That made them proud and happy, but more importantly they were just grateful that they were free to live the lives that they had always wanted to live.

  Now that they had Ethan, everything was perfect, and that way the way that they wanted it to stay forever more.

  THE END

  = Bonus Book 8 of 8 =

  Alien Trinity

  I wake mid-scream.

  The same searing pain that’s been plaguing me for the last week or two has returned. My entire abdomen is burning from the inside out, a pain that I’ve never felt before. The sweat is worse this morning; my entire body is covered a thick coat of moisture. I feel sick, I feel weak, and I certainly don’t feel like myself.

  When the pain finally subsides, it’s replaced by pure nausea. I race to the bathroom, kicking aside shoes and clothes in my haste. I push into the room, drop down to my knees at the toilet, and brace myself for the oncoming expulsion of my insides. After five or so minutes of torture, I splash cold water onto my face. I look into the mirror and I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. My hair is latched onto the side of my face like brown seaweed and my skin is the whitest that it’s ever been. I look as terrible as I feel.

  “There’s work to be done, Eliana, so get yourself together,” I say to my reflection before starting my shower.

  Today could be the day that I lose my job and I don’t intend on letting this sickness assist in that. My department has been downsizing as required by the heads of Oakdale Public Schools. Apparently arts just aren’t as important as the sciences and mathematics. All the art teachers are being shadowed for the next few weeks, constantly watched and recorded. At the end of the semester, only a handful of us will be returning after the summer break. Art, my students and coworkers, the whole damn school is what keeps me going, and I’ll be damned if I let any of it slip away from me. So yeah, this mystery sickness is going to have to sit back and wait its turn.

  The shower washes away most of the pain, but there will be the constant reminder of it lingering somewhere deep within me for the entire day, much like yesterday and the day before. I dress in my normal attire: a black suit, hair pulled back, just the right amount of makeup to make me feel presentable. I don’t eat, which is no surprise. Until around noon, the very idea of food makes my stomach want to roll over and die. I gather up all that I’ll need for the day, and I leave, determined to impress whomever decides enters room 207 today.

  During my thirty-minute commute, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I wait for a red light to read the text.

  Bridgette 7:07 AM: Good morning, El. Lunch today?

  Me 7:11 AM: Yes, definitely. I need to catch you up.

  Bridgette 7:13 AM: Everything okay?

  Me 7:16 AM: Talk later, driving. See you at Helen’s at 12.

  Bridgette doesn’t text back after that. She just returned from a weekend trip with her husband and I haven’t been able to fill her in on my current situation. Whenever I don’t talk to her for more than a day or two, my problems start to overwhelm me. She’s been my best friend for six years now, and she has yet to give me poor advice. No matter how outlandish her suggestions seem, they always seem to work. I call her my oracle for a reason.

  I make it to school a few minutes later than us
ual and I quicken my pace through the parking lot. When I reach the top of the stairs, a familiar voice calls my name from behind me. I resist the instinct to turn to face the caller, hoping that he gives up. He calls my name again. I turn and say, “Oh, good morning, Hank.”

  “Mornin’, Eliana. So about that date…”

  Hank is an art appreciation teacher. We’ve been working together for almost four years now. Ever since the first time we met, he’s been trying to spark a romantic relationship with me. He’s a great guy, which is why I don’t get angry with him, but I’m just not interested. Bridgette thinks it’s because he reminds me to much of my ex and I can’t say that I don’t agree with her.

  “I would, Hank. But work has me swamped, you know, with all of these jobs cuts and whatnot,” I say as he catches up with me. We’re walking towards my classroom, passing by students flirting at their lockers, teachers scrambling to prepare for the day, and an endless sea of eyes glued on Hank and I. The students have been spreading rumors about our relationship for months now. Even some of the teachers have spilled false gossip into the rumor wheel. “It’s crazy how low the respect level is for the arts,” I say to change the subject as we pass a group of girls pretending not to watch us.

  “Oh, trust me, Elly, you have nothing to worry about. Old Man Johnson loves you,” Hank says, patting my shoulder. I really wish he hadn’t done that. “It’s those like me that have to watch out.”

  “He’s the principal, yes, but Edward doesn’t hold any power in this. Our lives hang on the decisions of the big guys.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Hank,” I say when we reach my room, giving him my best impression of a sincere smile. “I have some things to do before class starts.”

  His blue eyes light up, meaning that I’m not only a great teacher, but also a great actress. “Catch ya later, Elly.” Hank sends me a wink and walks away.

  A few students standing by my door must have caught the wink and they giggle and whisper. I raise my eyebrows at them and say, “Good morning.”

  My first two classes seem to drag on for hours. I’m so caught up in doing and saying the right thing to make the man in the back of the room happy that it’s draining me. All of my moves are so calculated, so unnatural. The students can sense it and I hope that the man doesn’t. By the end of third period, every muscle in my body feels strained. A slight headache taps against my skull and the chronic pain in my stomach doesn’t waiver.

  When the bell rings, I leave the room almost as fast as the students. I see Hank again at the opposite end of the hall and I turn in the other direction. I ignore his shouts and try my best to escape the school with no obstacles, bumping into a girl while racing down the stairs.

  “I’m so sorry, Angela,” I say, steadying her with my free hand.

  “It’s all right, Ms. Russet,” Angela says with a smile. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, why?” I ask as we descend the steps.

  “You don’t look to good.”

  “I think I’m coming down with something,” I say. I smile and continue my descent.

  I make it to my car and I quickly shut the door, cocooning myself in silence. For the first time since the first bell rang, I can feel my body start to relax. I take in a deep breath, wipe the sweat off my brows, and start towards Helen’s Café.

  ***

  I spot Bridgette’s car as soon as I pull into the parking lot. I park my car behind hers. She sees me through her rearview mirror and jumps from her car, elated. A few seconds after I leave my car, I’m wrapped in her arms.

  “I’ve missed you so much, El!” she screams into my ear. I don’t mind though; the comfort I get from her mere presence outweighs the pain that courses through my body. She pulls away and asks, “How are you?”

  “I’ve seen better days,” I say. “But before we talk about me, tell me about your trip over a nice meal?”

  Bridgette laughs. “Of course.”

  The waitress knows our orders and puts them in when we enter the small restaurant. We’ve been coming here for about two years now and the warmth of the place relaxes me even more. All the furniture is a dark brown wood with splashes of red in the paintings, fabrics, and light fixtures. We sit in the same spot and the waitress, Peggy, brings us our regular drinks.

  Bridgette tells me that her trip was magical. She and Rob had an amazing time exploring Yellowstone. She swears that it’s the most beautiful place in the world. Midway through one of her stories, she pauses and stares at me.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “You’re still sick, aren’t you?”

  “Please, finish your stories. I don’t want to dry out the energy quite yet.”

  “Explain it to me,” Bridgette says. “The sickness, I mean.”

  I sigh and tell her about my morning trips to the toilet, the constant pins in my abdomen, and the lack of appetite.

  “Oh my gosh,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “What?”

  “You’re pregnant!”

  “Be quiet, Bridge,” I whisper-scream. “Not so loud.”

  “Why haven’t you told me yet?” She doesn’t lower her voice.

  “Because I’m not pregnant.” A sudden dose of nausea hits me like a wave. I discretely grab my stomach under the table. I refuse to show the pain on my face. “It’s…impossible.”

  “What do you mean? You’re young, of course it’s possible.”

  “I mean because…I haven’t…you know…”

  “You haven’t had sex?”

  The waitress arrives at our table just as Bridgette makes her exclamation. Peggy tries her best to hide the fact that she heard, but I can read it in the way that she quickly deposits our food and leaves. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

  I roll my eyes and nod.

  “In how long?” Bridgette asks, leaning forward, arms sprawled on the table. “When was the last time you had some fun?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. I do know. The last time I was sexually active was six or seven months ago, a few days after I ended things with Thomas, my ex. I went out to a bar in hopes of numbing my pain and I met this guy. I forget his name and the only thing I remember about him was his purple contacts and his indiscernible accent. “A long time.”

  “There have been crazy stories of women getting pregnant without having sex,” Bridgette says after taking a bite of her pasta. “Ever heard of Mary?”

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  Bridgette holds up her hands and says, “Okay, okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when a little guy pops out from down under.”

  “I still get my period.”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  We finish our food, hug, and part ways. I finish my afternoon classes a bit easier than my morning ones, and stay after school to finish grading a few assignments. While I’m working, my conversation with Bridgette is on replay in my head. I know there’s no way that I’m pregnant, but the idea has latched to my mind like a leech on a swimmer’s leg. I stop grading and place my hands on my stomach. It feels like it’s felt for a long time. Sure, it’s not as flat as it once was, but there’s no way that there’s another human inside of me. I run my fingers along my abdomen, my mind still running at full capacity. Despite my surety, I won’t be able to abandon the idea until I prove it to myself.

  I decide that I’ll finish grading tomorrow and leave the school. On my way home, I stop at a drug store. After making sure no one was around, I add a pregnancy test to my basket of other products that I use to hide it. At the checkout counter, I put the test up first, wanting the cashier to hide it away in a bag.

  “How are you today, ma’am?” The older woman asks from behind the counter.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  The woman, whose nametag tells me her name is Shirley, holds up the pregnancy test and says, “You know, you might want to get two of these just to be safe.”

  Just then, t
wo of my former students enter the store, spot me, then the little white box in Shirley’s hands, and erupt in laughter. One of them, Alex Lovette, says, “You and Mr. Hamilton had a fun night, huh?”

  I ignore the boys and tell Shirley that one is just fine. I silently pray that Alex doesn’t throw some more fuel onto the fire that is already burning so harshly. A scandal is the last thing that I need right now.

  When I get home, I don’t waste any time. I remove the stick from the box, follow the directions, and wait. I don’t know why, but my hands are shaking from nervousness. I know what the test will say. I know that I’m not pregnant. And yet I’m scared to look at the indicator when the two minutes are up. I gather enough courage to take a peek, and to confirm what I already knew, the test is negative. Two small lines tell me that there is nothing growing inside of me. I check the back of the box again just to be sure and there, in little black letters, “two lines: positive”. I drop the box and the stick and do my best to suppress the scream that’s forming in my throat.

  ***

  I’m in my car, driving to the nearest gas station, in seconds.

  The test is wrong. It has to be wrong. There is absolutely no way that I’m pregnant. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles go white. I’m biting down on my tongue to distract myself as I fly down the road at speeds well over the limit. There’s a small station a few minutes down the road and as I approach it, my entire being is consumed with fear.

  I go into the store, grab the two tests, and check out. As I swipe my card, the clerk says, “Is everything all right, Miss?”

  I nod, keeping my eyes aimed away from his. He hands me my receipt and tells me to have a good night.

  “Is there a bathroom here?” I ask, keeping my head down.

  “There’s an attached bathroom near the back of the store. Don’t worry, it’s well-lit.”