by Ian Withrow
She stumbled forward, and caught a glimpse of her dress. The front from her pelvis down was a solid red streak. She shoved it out of her mind, and drove on. The sea of people parted before her.
Some dropped to their knees in adulation, some fled, but the vast majority of the watchers were simply that - watchers.
Silent observers with unblinking cameras, detached from the woman just feet away.
Familiar darkness, her constant companion, crept forward in her heart. She knew the solace it could bring, but she refused to yield.
Her stumble turned to a walk, turned to a run as sore muscles picked up the well worn pace of memory. Lauren tucked her wings and lengthened her strides, bare feet slapping lightly on the pavement. She retreated inward as she ran, severing the links between her mind and the world around her. There was only the run, only the ground beneath and before her.
She spotted it just as the tornado sirens started to wail.
St. Mary’s.
For the second time this morning a bright orange glow illuminated the skies. If she had to guess, this one was either much larger or much, much closer. A bright blaze just over the horizon bathed the entire town in an eerie light. This time it was only seconds before a shock wave passed through the ground, and much more intensely than the first.
The glass sliding door of the emergency room, as well as multiple windows in the buildings around her, cracked and blew out into the street from the fury of the quake.
But nothing would deter her. She charged headlong into the hospital, skidding to a halt in the entryway of the emergency room.
Dazed workers were recovering from the unexplained earthquake, picking up the contents of their desks and righting overturned trolleys all around her. Those staff members who noticed her seemed too surprised to do anything other than stare until one plump, older woman snapped to attention and started barking orders.
“Ma’am, are you-”
“I’m pregnant, somethings wrong.”
As if to punctuate her statement, Lauren hunched over suddenly to vomit. Bent at the waist, she noted the pool of blood between her feet.
“Right! Get me two techs and a wheelchair, prep the O.R., page Dr. Janga, and alert the NICU.”
She took command of the hectic waiting room and conducted the staff like an orchestra.
Two young men and a wheelchair appeared almost immediately and Lauren sank into it gratefully, closing her eyes as they began moving her deeper into the hospital.
“Amelia, you have the room.”
The old woman hustled to keep up with them, intent it seemed on accompanying Lauren.
“Room four please, Allen.”
The wheelchair turned sharply into a crisp, sterile room already starting to fill with nurses and equipment.
“Ok darlin’ you’re gonna need to get up on the table here, can you stand?”
She shook her head no.
The two men and the old woman lifted her gently and laid her on the table. The act of straightening back out unleashed a fresh new wave of hell in the form of a brutal tearing feeling inside her.
The woman tried to soothe Lauren’s screams. She placed a hand on her forehead and locked eyes with her. Something about her was familiar to Lauren, but she couldn't place just what.
“How far along are you? Hey, hey focus on me honey, how far along?”
“I-I’m not sure. A few months I think.”
“That’s ok, that’s ok. What’s your normal kick-count?”
“My what?”
Lauren wished she was worse at reading people’s faces, wished she didn’t notice the sadness creeping into the woman’s eyes.
“You’re ok dear. We’ll get everything straightened out. We’re gonna put an IV in now, and hook you up to just a few little monitors ok?”
The nurses were indeed hooking her up to various external monitors when the woman returned with a needle connected to a thin clear tube and a bag of liquid.
“Ok little sting here sweetie…”
Lauren braced herself but felt nothing.
The woman’s eyes widened with surprise. She held up a bent needle, looking it over for defects.
“Wait here just a minute, we didn’t want that one anyway now did we dear?”
She reappeared with a much larger needle, but her frustrated sigh indicated to Lauren that it had also failed to pierce her skin.
“Honey you can’t um, you can’t shut this off can you? I can’t get a needle through that skin of yours.”
Fuck.
Lauren shook her head, tears in her eyes. She drew a long shaky breath and tried to let it out slowly.
“N-no, I don’t know how.”
The woman’s face stayed passive, but her voice was laced with even greater concern than before.
“Oh that’s… that’s ok. That medicine is mostly for you anyway dear. Lord above knows you don’t need it right?”
She managed a thin smile before turning back to the staff. A tall young man was entering the room in scrubs, his hands held up at a funny angle so as not to compromise their cleanliness. On either side he was flanked by an additional doctor, all mimicking his stance.
“We can’t do anything subdermal Doctor, how do you want to proceed?”
“Let’s start with intranasal Pitocin, and get an intrauterine monitor in immediately.”
He walked to the bedside, stopping near Lauren’s head and looking down at her.
“Good morning ma’am, I’m doctor Yerevan Janga, I’ll be helping you as best I can this morning. Nurse Peggy tells me you’re pregnant, is that right? Now, I need you to listen carefully and answer me as well as you can, ok?”
She nodded and he smiled down at her warmly.
“Ok good, now I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’m going to touch you ok?”
Lauren jumped when he started to lift her dress and he immediately stopped. Weyland’s horrifying, hungry face tore it’s way into her mind and she quaked at the memory of his bedroom in Greece.
“Ma’am? I have to get these clothes out of the way, I need access or I can’t help you.”
Lauren nodded as another wave of pain throbbed through her.
He was quick, professional, and gentle, sliding her dress up until he could see her stomach and then placing both hands on it. He pressed and prodded, asking her questions and making short unintelligible comments to his fellow physicians in a slow, steady stream.
“Do you know when your projected due date was?”
“No.”
“Have you used any drugs, alcohol, or other chemicals since you’ve been pregnant?”
Did eating people’s souls count?
“No.”
“Ok good, good. Two for two so far. No more than six months. I can’t tell the orientation either. Extreme fetal distress-”
“Fetal distress? What does that mean, does that mean what I think-”
“Ma’am, You have to remain calm ok? The best possible thing for your baby right now is for you to remain as calm as you can. Where is that Pitocin please?”
A nurse appeared with a small bottle of nasal spray and jammed it unceremoniously into Lauren’s nose. She jerked back, shaking the whole table.
“What is that?”
“It’s pitocin dear, one of the safest drugs out there. It will help with the pain and the bleeding ok? You just need to take a deep breath.”
Lauren complied, inhaling a lungful of fine mist. Immediately her eyes went fuzzy and her head felt heavy. Colors swam around the room and her limbs felt distant and unwieldy. Dull, fuzzy stinging sensations ran up and down her nerves, concentrating in her lower abdomen.
Then the contractions hit.
Lauren screamed as her uterus tightened into a fist. The death grip on her organs subsided after several impossibly long seconds, leaving her panting and drenched in sweat.
“...can’t remove it via c-section either, we don’t have anything that could cut through her skin, let alone the uterine�
��”
Another contraction, and another after that. Tiny dots popped and disappeared before her eyes as she gripped the metal arms of the bed hard enough to crumple them like soda cans.
“... minimal heart rate, oxygen levels are at 80% and falling doctor…”
Lauren’s vision was going in and out of focus but she could make out doctor Janga’s face a foot or so from her own.
“... to push. Your body is rejecting… you’re going to have to push.”
Lauren pushed as hard as she could, nearly blacking out. The next time her vision collected itself she lifted her head and looked down. She could see Doctor Janga again, the front of his lab coat was a dark red and a nurse was handing him something that looked like a huge pair of tongs.
The building was shaking hard enough to rattle the metal implements in their trays beside the bed when suddenly the room went dark. Lauren was certain she’d blacked out until the lights flickered and came back on. The nurses and doctors, though focused on her, were clearly nervous.
“... out of time. Is the incubator prepped?”
One last screaming push and the doctor was standing, cradling a blueish-gray object less than a foot long. She barely got a look at it before he turned his back to her and placed the tiny, unmoving bundle into a large clear plastic box beside the bed.
Doctor Janga stepped back and two others stepped in to take over.
Almost immediately one of the technicians jumped back like he’d been bit by something.
“Ow! Jesus what the hell was that?”
He was shaking his hand out and massaging his forearm with a stunned look on his face.
“It friggin’ shocked me man.”
“Allen, focus!”
The technician returned to the incubator and as various wires and cords were attached to the struggling new lifeform monitors started to light up in response.
Lauren’s vision was starting to clear, her body recovering rapidly from her internal injuries. Even the drugs seemed to be wearing off, so she tried to sit up.
The room swam and several nurses moved to restrain her.
“Lemme up. Ou’ my way.”
Peggy appeared by her shoulder.
“Sweetie you have to stay in bed ok? The doctors need time to work.”
Lauren shook her head and swung her legs clumsily over the side of the bed.
One of the monitors started to let out a high-pitched keening sound.
“Paddles!”
One of the tech’s grabbed a pair of tiny, undersized defibrillator pads and Lauren watched them disappear out of sight.
“Clear!”
There was a bright flash and a popping noise like a firecracker. Every light and machine in the room flickered wildly and several of the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling exploded.
“Allen? Allen!”
The technician was twitching on the floor, paddles still in hand and a patchwork of angry red lines covering his hands.
The heart rate monitor started beeping again, a series of unpredictable, erratic tones.
The attention shifted and Lauren seized the opportunity to exit the bed. Her legs still felt heavy and numb, and she fell immediately to her knees. Shaking her head she stood unsteadily and pushed her way through to the incubator.
“Help him!”
One of the technician’s had grabbed her by the shoulders and was shaking her.
“You have to help him he’s hurt!”
Lauren shoved him aside. She had only one goal and would not be distracted.
There it was, there she was.
The tiny being was maybe eight inches long. Her skin was thin enough to see the bluish veins underneath and her little heart could be seen raising her chest with each weakened beat.
All the wires and leads connected to the tiny person were blackened and melted, the bedding was blackened and even the plastic tub had a large crack in it. As Lauren watched, her daughter started to convulse, her tiny lips moving and her chest heaving. She watched the dull purple of her veins darken into a deeper blue.
“What's wrong? what’s happening to her!”
The staff were staring at her, horrified and silent.
“What’s the matter with you people! Do something!”
She bent down and lifted Allen from the floor with both hands, only then noticing that her arms were glistening silver up to her elbows. A quick glance downward confirmed that major arteries through her body were again bright, mercurial silver.
She pumped life back into the technician, awakening him with a gasp.
“Fix. Her.”
The monitor started to flatline again and she dropped the man, leaving him to recover beside her.
Lauren took a deep breath and reached delicately into the incubator, placing her fingers gently on the tiny life within.
She dug deep inside herself, willing her powers to work. She could feel the energy there, could manipulate it easily and felt it flowing through her body and out her fingertips.
But it had no effect.
She pushed harder, a splitting headache filled the front of her skull and still she pushed.
Nothing.
Lauren lifted her hands with a frustrated scream.
“B-Bring more paddle things, do the paddle thing again!”
Allen turned and ran from the room, returning a few moments later with another defibrillator set. He handed her the box with shaking hands and then retreated several steps.
Lauren’s temper flared.
“I don’t know how to use this you jackass!”
She shoved them back in his direction, but he held his hands up and shook his head no. Lauren’s eyes narrowed menacingly.
“I wouldn't be afraid of what might happen to you with these paddles. I would be afraid of what will happen to you if you don’t. And not just you, everyone in this hospital.”
The second technician shoved Allen forward, and he stumbled into her. With clumsy, trembling fingers he peeled the melted electrodes off of Lauren’s baby and replaced them with new ones from the portable kit he carried, one on the chest and the other on the back. He connected the long bright wires to the small box and a blinking light indicated that a shock was ready almost immediately. The box let out a brief warning tone, prompting Allen to hastily remove his hands.
Another second ticked by and the box let out a high-pitched whine and an obvious jolt of electricity. The tiny infant jerked for a moment, then the box sizzled and popped, smoke pouring out of it.
The hospital shook with a fury that matched Lauren’s own.
A roaring sound, like a thousand angry freight trains filled their ears. A gust of wind blew the door to the operating room inward and Lauren could see papers, hospital gowns, even a desk go careening past in the hallway.
The tiles above them broke loose but they didn’t fall. Instead they were ripped skyward as if by the hand of god, revealing a massive black scar on the face of the heavens. A tornado, hundreds of feet across and easily the biggest Lauren had ever seen, was bearing down on the tiny hospital.
Wind shredded the buildings around them, sending cinder blocks, cars, and people spiraling upward to disappear into the blackness.
Rain blasted the town with enough force to leave welts. Hail tore like bullets through car windshields and windows. And all the while lightning danced through the streets like a thing possessed. The screams of the nurses and patients were drowned by the incomparable power of the storm. Lauren stood her ground, unwilling to move, unwilling to leave her daughter.
Boards, bricks, and other unattended objects became missiles in the storm. They battered Lauren, and the wind tore at her feathers, but she paid them no mind until a stray stone impacted the tiny box cradling her baby. The thick plastic cracked deeper, driving Lauren to action. She hunched over the box, wings spread protectively, and shielded it from the storm with her body. the glow from her chest and face was enough to illuminate the scrunched, struggling face below her.
Gale force
winds buffeted them, but inside the tiny sanctuary she was safe.
Gale.
Lauren closed her eyes, it was a perfect name.
Gale.
Something heavy and metal crashed into Lauren’s exposed back, making her stumble at last. Even she couldn't stay here forever. Gingerly, she reached out her hands to lift Gale from the soft cushion where she lay.
No sooner had she plucked her from her resting place than the the sky lit up like a spotlight. Lauren watched in stunned amazement as columns of lightning several feet across poured in solid streams from the clouds and down into the ground.
The pillars writhed and moved like snakes, carving molten paths along the ground around her. The columns of electricity, nearly a dozen in total, swirled and danced chaotically. Lauren watched with growing trepidation as they undeniably started to close in around her.
Her hands grew hot, and Lauren glanced down to see Gale covered in tiny arcs of lightning. Her back was arched and her tiny, undersized hands clenched and unclenched. Gale shook violently, shuddered, and lay still.
Lauren flinched in pain as energy shot along her nerves. Power filled her body and a buzzing filled her ears until an arc of lightning burst forth from her chest into the sky. Her eyesight was bleached out until all she could see was a blaze of white.
When the blinding flash finally subsided and Lauren’s chest finally relaxed she felt her heart stutter and stop, and then restart several times before resuming it’s normal beating. Her lungs gulped fresh air as her muscles spasmed and drew her to her knees.
She blinked to clear the afterimages from her eyes and stared at her hands. Where her baby had been there was nothing. Red lines covered her like the branches of a gnarled tree. Flashing light drew her gaze to upward in time to see the columns of lightning pour upwards into the sky, pulsing like a heartbeat across the clouds.
She stared in awe at the rapidly dissolving funnel clouds around her. In seconds the winds had died to a low roar. The hail stopped, replaced by cool, soft rain that mixed with Lauren’s uncomprehending tears. A stray puff of wind caressed Lauren’s cheek, whisking her tears away with an unexpected gentleness.
Before she could gather her thoughts, an explosion unlike anything Lauren had ever known rocked the air around her. The suicide bomber in Sarajevo was a firecracker compared to the ear-shredding pressure wave she experienced. Lauren was thrown a few dozen feet, crashing into one of the few walls left standing.