Georgia was reaching between Mandy’s legs, grabbing something.
When she came up, she was holding a baby.
A disgusting baby, covered in all the things that a baby is covered in when it first comes into the world.
Mandy was still breathing hard, but she started to quiet down. Max looked at her and smiled. She smiled weakly back at him.
“Looks like a healthy baby… and it’s a boy,” said Georgia, holding him where Max and Mandy could both get a clear look at it.
It was strange looking, the baby. But only strange in the way that all newborns look strange. Their heads can seem misshapen, and their necks are almost absent. Their skin has a strange look to it.
Overall, they look funny.
And Max and Mandy’s baby was no different.
It was all normal. It was a normal, healthy, soon-to-be happy baby.
“Let’s name him Chad,” said Max.
Georgia shot Max what might have been a quizzical, or critical, look. But she managed to stifle her normally stubborn, somewhat combative personality, and didn’t say anything.
Max looked at Mandy.
“Sounds good,” said Mandy, nodding.
Georgia was smiling the next time Max looked at her.
“Here you go, you hold her, Mandy,” said Georgia, slowly lowering baby Chad into Mandy’s eager arms. “You want to do the honors, Max?”
“The honors?”
“The umbilical cord. Sometimes the dad…”
“Oh,” said Max. “Sure. Unless there’s some trick to it?”
“Not really,” said Georgia. “I remember how it’s done. I’ll show you.”
“Let me go sterilize my knife,” said Max, taking out his folding pocketknife, and flipping it open.
The knife had been used for many things before, but cutting an umbilical cord wasn’t one of them.
All he needed was a lighter or some alcohol.
“I’ll be right back with a clean knife,” said Max, ducking out the door into the outdoors. As he did, he glanced back to see Mandy holding baby Chad, Georgia presiding over the whole thing.
“Is it a boy or girl?” said Sadie, suddenly popping up in front of Max. Her face was shining with excitement.
“Boy,” said Max. “Help me find a lighter, will you?”
Max felt foolish. He should have been prepared for the birth. He should have had everything they might have ever needed already there.
But that’s the way life was sometimes. No matter how hard you tried to prepare, things got in the way, or things cropped up unexpectantly.
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About Ryan Westfield
Ryan Westfield is an author of post-apocalyptic survival thrillers. He’s always had an interest in “being prepared,” and spends time wondering what that really means. When he’s not writing and reading, he enjoys being outdoors.
Contact Ryan at ryanwestfieldauthor@gmail.com
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 by Ryan Westfield
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.