“I can’t. It won’t come out.”
“Yes. Yes you can.” I moved closer to her, trying to encourage, trying to hide my concern and anger. “Come on, Leah push. Now!”
She grabbed tighter to her legs and grunted. One long, strong push and I saw the baby’s head.
“It’s here. I see the baby.”
Another push and the entire head emerged. The baby was turning, eyes closed. I didn’t know if he or she were dead or alive. Reaching out, I cupped my hand under the head and, bracing the neck with my fingers, I gently pulled.
A splash of blood emerged just after the baby. It was a boy and half his body was in my hand, and his legs hit the ground. Leah collapsed to her side in exhaustion, making it difficult to maneuver the baby.
He kicked, his mouth opened; he was perfect.
He was hard to grip, his body covered in a cheesy-like substance.
“We have a son, Leah.” I smiled, then the smile dropped.
Leah wasn’t moving, not at all. I glanced down to the baby in my hands, the cord ran from his abdomen to her vagina.
“Leah,” I called to her. “Leah.”
She didn’t stir, in fact I couldn’t even see her breathing. That was when it hit me.
What was I going to do? I never looked beyond the moment of birth. I never thought what I was going to do.
As Martin once said, “The world was hell, and I just allowed a baby to be born into it.” What was wrong with me? What chance did my child have? The road ahead of us was long, my odds of survival were slim and his were even smaller.
As I grabbed the small scissors to cut the cord, I looked down at him and really contemplated my decision. It would be easy to accomplish, simply wrap the cord around his neck, place him next to Leah and let them both go.
The second I grabbed the cord to do so, I couldn’t. It was my child. It was my job to protect him, to keep him safe, and to get him to a better place than a run-down shed.
I would. With that thought, I severed the cord and the baby from his mother.
Guilt consumed me for even thinking about it. I would mourn Leah and deal with her later, but first I had to care for my son. That was my priority.
RECALL
45 DAYS EARLIER
July 19
Martin was right. More than I wanted to believe, he called what was going to happen. I wanted to take Leah and leave, head to Montana, but within one month of Martin’s retirement party, things were totally different.
Had we decided to leave just two days earlier, when Martin called and said, “Leave,” we would have been close. At least out of city limits. Airline travel was cancelled, trains stopped moving, and busses only travelled within certain limits.
Major cities had been closed. Military moved in to keep law and order, and no one, absolutely no one, was permitted to leave. The only vehicles allowed in and out of the zones were delivery trucks and supplies.
There were ways around the barricade and people took them. Delivery trucks were one way and people bought passage.
Realistically, there was no way to barricade an entire city, unless of course it was Manhattan. I was fortunate not to be there.
Close enough though, I was in Philadelphia. A small borough inside the city limits. All highways were closed down and a curfew was in effect at sundown.
We were encouraged to go about our lives as normal as possible, and we tried.
I watched the news a lot, as did most people. America’s version of bunker cities were less rumor and more fact. Pictures popped up daily on the internet. Large internment-style camps set up in the desert with high fences and huge water tanks. They were named Sanctuary Cities, each given a number.
The government vehemently denied them, stating they weren’t needed. They swore the outbreak would be contained, or cured.
I spoke and communicated with Martin frequently. He kept telling me to leave. That soon enough, the sporadic infected would become hoards.
“Find an underground way,” Martin said. “You have maybe a week or two tops, before those are shut down. Once you are out of the major cities, getting a car will be easy and just avoid highways. You need to go soon.”
“What if we can’t?” I asked.
“Then you’re going to be trapped. It will get worse. You’re Region Three. You’re not getting out until they tap that region a dead zone and order evacuation for the Sanctuary City. Get out now before you can’t move on the streets.”
“We haven’t been hit yet.”
“You will. All populated areas eventually were hit.”
By that, he meant hit with the virus.
No one could really pinpoint how the infection spread. It was a given it spread person-to-person, saliva, blood, bite, scratch, sex. However, the scariest part was that it was airborne. It seemed to move in waves. Hitting an entire area at once. Like parasites carried in the wind. Ninety percent of the area would become infected instantly. More than likely that was the reason everyone believed at first it was a weapon dispensed.
It was no weapon. It was a freak of nature. An extinction event. Labeled outbreak storms, the virus cloud, or whatever it was, would hit an area and then without warning, days later, maybe weeks, it would hit again. They weren’t really storms, no thunder and lightning happened, no tornado or dark cloud rolled by. Everyone just dropped. A storm was about the best analogy given and it stuck.
Everything was given a name for ease.
The infected garnished the name “Vees” by everyone who talked about them. They were everywhere. It was frightening at first but then it became commonplace. News alerts would tell of areas to avoid because of Vee infestation and areas that were hit by outbreak storms.
Like war levels, there were Vee levels for an area. If one was spotted, the entire area was flagged.
We were fortunate, we hadn’t actually seen one or watched a person die of infection. Other than on the news or the internet.
CBS ran a special on what to do if you or a loved one was infected with the Vee virus. Hotline numbers were in place to call and report a Vee, and the curfew was in place to get them all.
One would think a world besieged by plague and in a military state would be a chaotic one. People knew it was us against them. At least for the time being we were fighting together to live.
They were different than the stereotypical ‘zombie’ depicted in movies. Some moved slow, some fast. Never any superhuman feats of strength. The Vee were more reflective of how they were in life. Some only attacked for food when hungry, some just plain attacked.
I was working late, one of nine employees that remained in the company. Well, late by new standards. The city had hired any one that could to help run things. Our accounting firm handled the distribution inventory, and my bonus pay was rations.
There was no stopping at the grocer on the way home. Everything was distributed and accounted for. I had my day that I went to the store. Everyone did. The days of freedom shopping were gone. Even though we were told to go about our lives, things were changing and fast.
The curfew went into effect at seven in the evening. All internet services were blocked at that time and the only thing on television was the news.
Thankfully, I had saved all those DVDs
Finishing the day, I heard the alert of my phone. Figuring it was Leah asking what train I was taking, I lifted it. To my surprise, it was an alert from my bank, I was overdrawn.
I didn’t know how that could be? I hadn’t used the account in days, not since distribution.