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ladyseaheart1668 · 3 years

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Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 54)

Description: A race to reach Diego and Alodia ends with a highly-anticipated arrival.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @feartheendlesssummer @mysteli @whatmcsaid@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 54 : River Skye

Jake

“Sean! Pull over!” Varyyn’s voice comes over the car’s radio communication system without warning, startling me out of an anxious trance. It apparently startles Sean, too, because the car swerves sharply for a second before reorienting on the road.

“Holy mother of god, Varyyn!” he yelps. “Don’t shout at someone who’s trying to keep three tons of speeding metal under control!”

“Is everything okay back there?”

“Alodia made contact!”

I almost drop the Prism Crystal as electric energy shoots through every nerve in my body. I suddenly feel like my stomach, lungs, and heart are playing musical chairs in my torso and getting tangled up in each other in the rush.

“What did she say? Is she okay? Where is she?!” The questions tumble out of me, and I have to force myself to bite my tongue to let Varyyn answer.

“I don’t know exactly where she is, and I’m not sure if she is alright. Sean, I need you to pull over so that I can touch the Crystal. I think I may be able to get a better lock on her now if I can handle the Crystal.”

That’s all it takes to convince everyone to pull over. We stop at the side of the road and I scramble out to hand the Crystal off to Varyyn, willing myself not to pester him as he closes it between his palms and closes his eyes to concentrate. I can’t help pacing, but I don’t pester him. Finally, he opens his eyes.

“...We are heading in the correct direction. I’m not sure how far off we are, but we are on the right track. She and Diego are in...I think it’s an abandoned house.”

“But you don’t know?” I press him. “What did Alodia say when she made contact?”

Varyyn purses his lips for a moment before answering. “Very little that was clear. She is scared, and I don’t think she is well.”

“What makes you think that?” Michelle asks.

“Her thoughts were very unfocused. And certain images that pervaded them invoked...well...fever. Illness. Pain. She seemed to confirm that she was hurt.”

“Shit!” I hiss, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and pulling viciously to keep myself from punching either a car or one of my innocent friends.

“...I-I really should go ahead,” Tahira says.

Michelle shakes her head. “No. Not alone. We don’t know who we might find there apart from Alodia and Diego, and you’re still not completely healed. It’s best if we stick to the plan. We know the Crystal is leading us in the right direction, so we stick together and follow its path.”

“And who the hell made you the dictator here, Maybelline?” I snap. Michelle fixes me with a steady eye.

“I am aware that your wife is usually the leader in our family, but given that she is the one we’re currently trying to rescue, it seems like it falls on me to be the voice of reason. Tahira might need backup. If Alodia is hurt or sick, I need to be there since I’m the only one of us with a medical degree. And if Tahira takes the Crystal ahead, we lose our only compass, and we possibly lose valuable time trying to find our way--especially if Tahira can’t get past whatever guards Fiddler might have put on them. That is time that I could have spent making sure she and your baby were stable. If you or anyone else can refute any of those points, I am happy to listen.”

Of course, no one really can refute those points. Tahira may be a superhuman, but the rest of us have actually fought Arachnid before. If they still have any of the technology they had on the island, being a superhuman might not be enough. Michelle nods, satisfied.

“Right. Good. There is just one thing first.” She pulls out her phone and taps the screen a few times. We hear the purr of the line ringing on the other end.

“What’s up, Michelle?” Zahra asks on the other end, not quite succeeding at nonchalance.

“Quick version is that Alodia made contact with Varyyn and we know we’re heading in the right direction, but we don’t know much else, and Alodia might not be in the best shape. I think I might need Iris’s medical scanner when we get to her. We’re about six hours out from Northbridge now. Can Iris track us? Like with my phone’s GPS or something?”

“Pfft. Child’s play. I’ll have her in the air in two minutes. You heading towards Northbridge or away?”

“Towards for now.”

“Good. Unless you veer wildly off course or turn around completely, I’d estimate Iris will find you in under three hours.”

“... I just hope that’s fast enough.”

Diego

Eyes screwed shut, sweat running down her ashen face in rivers, Allie pushes shaking, hissing breaths out through a narrow, round gap between her lips, gasping as she inhales. Her ragged fingernails dig uncomfortably into the skin on the back of my hand, but her grip isn’t strong enough to hurt. That’s the part that scares me. She’s feverish and weakened by captivity and infection. She can’t have her baby here. Not like this. I wait for the contraction to pass and blot the sweat off her face with what I think is a relatively clean washcloth that I found in the closet.

“...I have to get help.”

Allie whimpers, shaking her head. “...No…”

“Allie, we don’t really have a choice here. You’re hurt, you’re sick, and now you’re in labor. I--” I feel my voice catching and struggle to keep it under control. “I am way out of my depth here.”

“Varyyn is coming.” Her voice comes out in a weak, strangled moan. “Th-this is my first baby. We have time…”

“Last we knew, your baby was breech, and you were possibly going to need a C-section. If something goes wrong…” I bite my lip against the swell of tears rising from my throat. “Allie, I can’t let you die…”

“I’m...not going to die.” She opens her eyes and turns her gaze to meet mine. “...Don’t leave me alone. If F-Fiddler finds me...you won’t know where she takes me...Rourke will have River. ...Varyyn is coming. He’ll come for us.”

“...Allie…”

“Please…” she whimpers. “...I can’t do this alone. I need you. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother. Please don’t leave me alone…”

I grimace, my teeth clenched against the rising surge of terror that threatens to come out in a frantic scream. There’s no way I can leave her when she’s begging me to stay. My hand shakes as I brush the sweat-soaked hair off her forehead.

“Okay. Okay...I’m not leaving. I promise. Just...tell me what you need. What do you need me to do?”

“H-help me time the...contractions. And...I need you to help me...get my pants off…”

“Already? But...won’t you be cold?”

“I have blankets. My pants are soaked. I’ll be colder with them on.”

“Okay, fair.” I push back the blankets, wincing a little at the dark fluid stain on the crotch of her sweatpants. I force myself to smirk at her. “I won’t deny I feel weird about the idea of seeing my sister’s galleta, but I will endure because I love you.”

She rewards me with a weak smile. “And I love you for doing this.” Her smile twists into a grimace as she attempts to lift her hips to give me room to draw down her pants and underwear. “...I’m sorry...for anything else I put you through before this is over. I’ve read...everything I could find about the process...if I...say anything mean…”

I shake my head, almost smiling for real. “I won’t take it to heart. I promise. And just so you know, if it comes to it, I will absolutely deliver your baby.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that…” She abruptly falls back with a gasp, clutching wads of the blankets in her fists. I hastily peel one hand away from the blanket to hold in mine.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

“...It’s...going to get worse…” she groans through clenched teeth.

“And I’ll be here when it does,” I promise. ...Though when it does get worse, I really hope someone else is here, too.

...Hurry, Varyyn. Please hurry...

Caleb

“Zelda needs to go potty!” RJ’s singsong voice floating up from the back of the van makes me groan.

“Jesus, again? Didn’t she go an hour ago?”

“She’s a dog,” Dylan points out reproachfully. “She doesn’t understand time. Besides, she’s nervous. That makes her have to pee more often.”

I don’t particularly feel like cleaning dog piss out of the upholstery, so I grudgingly pull over to let the kids take care of their dog’s business. Might as well take the opportunity to have a smoke, too. The kids complained about the smell when I tried to light up in the van.

At the side of a long stretch of road running through a forest preserve, we pile out of the van. Dylan takes it on himself to clip Zelda’s leash to her collar, and the kids venture a little ways into the trees while I lean against the van and fix a cigarette between my teeth, lighting up with a quick snap of my fingers. I space out as I puff, just barely paying attention as the kids move through the trees. But then I see Ysa take off at a run.

“Ysa!” Dylan yelps. He quickly passes Zelda’s leash to Alex, taking off after his cousin. I move to follow, shouting over my shoulder for the younger boys to stay put where they are. It doesn’t take too long to catch up to her. She’s stopped at the edge of a side road where a jeep is awkwardly parked on the shoulder. The distance is probably the equivalent of a city block ahead of where the van is parked. But I am breathless by the time we reach her.

“What the heck, Ysa?” Dylan says irritably. “What did you run off like that for?”

As I’m catching my breath, I get a look at Ysa’s face, and my gut gets cold as I realize she looks scared.

“What’s wrong?”

“They need help.”

“...Who needs help?”

“The people who were in this car,” she says shakily. “They’re in trouble.”

My eyes find Dylan’s and we exchange a bewildered glance. Clearly he doesn’t know what the fuck to make of what Ysa just said any more than I do.

“Ysa, what...what do you mean?”

“I mean that the people who were in this car are in trouble and they need help,” she replies with an impatient edge in her voice.

“How...do you know that?”

She shakes her head, scowling. “I don’t know how I know. But I know.”

“Who are the people who need help?”

“I don’t know!” she snaps, frustration clearly mounting. “There are two of them. I think. Caleb, we should help them!”

In my opinion, going on some kind of wild goose chase after some unknown people who are supposedly in some possibly imaginary trouble sounds like the last thing we should be doing. But I feel like I can probably phrase it a little more diplomatically.

“Easy, kiddo. I’m sure the people in this car are fine. They’re probably just hiking, and they’ll be back soon.”

“But it’s going to be dark soon!” Ysa protests. “And cold!”

“All the more reason we should be getting back to the van and moving on. We’re gonna need to stop for the night soon.”

“But we can’t just leave them!”

“Ysabel, we don’t know anything about these people! We don’t know if they are even in trouble at all!”

“They are!”

“Caleb,” Dylan interrupts. “...There are footprints near the car. Maybe we could follow them just for a little ways?” Just to satisfy her, is the part he doesn’t say, but I can still hear. “If the people in the car are on their way back, we’ll probably run into them pretty quickly.”

I groan. What did I get myself into with these kids? For fuck’s sake, I’m actually considering going along with this…

“Okay, fine! But wait here for a minute, okay? I’m gonna get the van and the boys and the dog. I don’t wanna leave the van on the shoulder out in the open.”

Alodia

There are ghosts in this room.

I’m being wrapped in a corset of white-hot barbed wire. My hands and feet are numb with cold, but the blood in my head has been replaced with boiling magma that melts a block of ice deep in the center of my brain and sends alternating trickles of ice and unbearable heat down my spine. I’m sweating and shivering as I cling to Diego, my brain flickering between lucidity, delirium, and something in between. In the space between, I find the ghosts. I am not the first mother to labor on this spot.

I can hear the noises I’m making. Clumsy, gulping sobs interspersed with animal groans, grunts, and howls. The ghosts hear me, too. Many of them are making the same noises in their struggle to bring their children into the world. I am one with them, with every mother in history who opened her legs on this spot to sweat and push new life from her body.

Some babies come easily. The house I labor in is new, and a young mother who is probably still alive somewhere in the world breathes through her labor and delivers her son with such quiet effort that her little daughter feels no fear as she plays at her mother’s head. The child absorbs an atmosphere of excitement as her new baby brother lets out his first cry. But not every mother is so fortunate, and as each contraction swells to excruciating heights, the lucky mothers’ happy tears are washed away in blood as an immigrant woman’s baby girl refuses to draw breath, or an indigenous mother bleeds out over her howling son.

Children born dead. Mothers killed in the process. I meet the dark eyes of a girl who can’t be more than fifteen, the first human to give birth on this spot more than ten-thousand years ago, whose ancestors had made a journey across lands that were later swallowed by the rising sea. She is not a primitive creature. She speaks in sentences. She has a family and a culture. The child she bears was conceived with a boy to whom she had given herself willingly, with the intent of creating new life. But her humanity is tested when the pain sets in, pain that has been a part of child-bearing for so long that no one remembers the days when we were apes and we gave birth with minimal effort. She is scared, and her fear is my fear. My pain is her pain. But my labor is not her labor. Hers was over ten-thousand years ago. Every other woman who has labored on this spot is past her pain, but I’m in the thick of mine. Still, their long-dead labors cling to me like the ropes of seaweed that drape treasures drawn up from a shipwreck.

She won’t die. I won’t let my baby die. I won’t let her be sacrificed to the bloodthirsty deity who has circled mothers on this spot like a vulture for ten-thousand years, choosing whether to separate mother and child in death, or whether to take or spare them both. Whoever this deity is, they can’t have my baby. They won’t have her.

...But as I feel delirium encroaching on my mind again, and pain rises to meet it, I have to admit that I am less confident they won’t have me.

Caleb

We’ve been walking for awhile now. The younger boys are starting to complain, but Ysa is insisting we push on.

“We’re going the right way,” she says confidently.

I know she’s right because the trail we’ve been following hasn’t gone cold yet. Whoever these people are, they haven’t turned back toward their jeep yet. It’s a bad sign. As late as it is, hikers would have turned back by now, or set up camp if that’s what they were planning to do. As far as we’ve come, it’s not likely they’re either hikers or campers. Even if they were hurt and unable to move, we’d have found them by now, or the trail would have dropped off. It’s looking more and more likely that they abandoned their jeep because of some kind of mechanical failure and struck out on foot. Why the hell they didn’t just stay with the jeep and call for help is anyone’s fucking guess. But I’m starting to think Ysa’s right about them being in trouble.

That feeling only grows when the area we’re in starts to look real fucking familiar…

...Oh, shit…

“Okay, that’s enough!” I say firmly, reaching out to grab Ysa’s shoulder and stop her advancing. “Time to get back to the van.”

“No!” Ysa cries. “No, we’re so close!”

“And we wanna be getting a lot farther away!”

“Caleb, what’s wrong?” Dylan asks.

“I know this place. It’s very near to where a very dangerous person lives, and we should get outta here and get back to the van.”

“But what about the people?!” Ysa wails. “We’ve come so far, we can’t just leave them!”

“Ysa, you heard Caleb. It might be dangerous. If he thinks we should go back, then we should go back.”

“No!”

I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting sweet little Ysabel to pull away from me. And I definitely wasn’t expecting her to take off running again. Where the shit does she get so much energy?

“Dylan, you stay here with the boys and the dog!” I order. “Keep yourselves hidden and wait right here! I’ll bring her back!”

Diego

“Dios te salve, Maria. Llena eres de gracia: El Seńor es contigo…”

I mutter the old, familiar words under my breath. They taste foreign on my tongue. You might think that being raised Catholic, the prayer would come naturally to me. It doesn’t. Prayer in general doesn’t come naturally to me. The God of my mother and father has been a stranger to me for so many years. The gods of my lover and my found family are...well...me, and the members of my found family, and the most powerful of them is the very woman I am trying to pray for. But prayer is all I have to turn to right now.

“Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres…”

At first I thought about praying to Vaanu. Surely if any deity could protect Allie, it would be her father, right? But Vaanu isn’t really a god. Any more than I am, or Allie as the Endless, or any of the Catalysts. Vaanu is an alien with weird alien powers, but he’s not a god to be prayed to.

“Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.”

The words are sticking in my throat. At first I tried to think back to my mother’s book of Saints, see if there was a patron saint of childbirth buried in my subconscious whose name I could invoke to protect Allie. Of course multiple such saints exist. There are patron saints of television and the internet, it would be stupid if there weren’t any saints watching over such a messy, dangerous, and common process that has been going on throughout human history. But what I mostly remember about patron saints of childbirth and mothers is that a number of them are weirdly sans childbearing organs. If I believed in a Mother Goddess, I might have called on her. Instead, I’m softly crying out to the only blessed being from the religion of my childhood that I vaguely imagine might hear me.

“Santa María, Madre de Dios…”

Allie buries her face in my chest, clutching my sleeves as she screams. Her body is slick with sweat, feeling like she might slip out of my arms. I hold her tighter, rocking urgently as I stroke her damp, greasy hair with a shaking hand.

“...Ruega por nosotros pecadores,ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte…”

Caleb

I was right about where we are. Gigi’s abandoned squat is looming in the distance, and Ysabel is barrelling toward it. Fuck, does this kid ever get tired?! Call it adrenaline or a second wind or whatever, but somehow seeing where she’s headed gives me a burst of speed, and I finally overtake her enough to wrap my arms around her and roll us both to the ground. Of course she struggles, but I’m prepared for that this time, and I don’t loosen my grip.

“Let me go!” she shrieks, desperation in her voice. “Caleb, let me go!”

“I will, if you promise to stand still long enough that we can talk about this!” Ysa rapidly stills, apparently thinking this over. I prompt her, “Do we have a deal?”

“...Yeah.”

I cautiously loosen my grip, and when she doesn’t immediately take off again, I give her space to get up. I get into a crouch in front of her and take her by the upper arms, not hard enough to hurt her, but not loose enough that she can break away again without a struggle. I hold her gaze with mine.

“Listen to me, kiddo. You don’t want anything to do with that place, okay? I know the people who hang out there, and they’re really, really dangerous. Especially for a kid like you. It’s time to go back to your brothers and cousins.”

The moon is bright overhead, and I can see Ysa’s dark eyes shimmer with tears, her lips quivering. “But...the people...we have to help them…”

I’m about to protest, but I’m interrupted by the faint, but unmistakable sound of a scream drifting out from inside the house. Fuck. Not like I’m gonna be able to convince her no one’s in trouble in there now. I groan through gritted teeth, briefly tightening my grip on the kid. I shake my head briefly to clear it, then sigh and look back at her face.

“Look...I’ll take care of figuring out what’s going on in there, okay? But while I’m doing that, you need to hide, got it? Hide in the trees, and if anyone comes after you, you scream your lungs out. Understand?”

After the briefest hesitation, she nods. When I release her and stand up, she moves back into the trees. I nod my approval, then steel myself to go back into Gigi’s squat. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to help whoever’s in there. I’ve at least got some hope that whoever it is, it’s not Gigi or any of her crew, that they really have abandoned the place. But no way Ysa’s gonna go back to the safety of her family or the van if I don’t try. I try to keep to shadows as I creep up to the front door. I press my ear to the door and don’t detect movement immediately behind it, nor are there any flickers in the front-facing windows. I know from experience that the door creaks when opened slowly, but usually if I open it fast, it mostly makes a faint squeak. I make a calculated decision and push it open quickly. Unfortunately, I am rewarded with the sustained, thunderous crash of dozens of unopened cans of food clattering against worn tile. A crude intruder alarm. Way too crude for Gigi, but it definitely destroyed any hope I had of sneaking in and stealthily assessing the situation.

Well...I’m in it now. Might as well see what the screaming is about.

Diego

I’m aware that I’m sobbing as I replace Allie on the mattress and stand with the fireplace poker clutched in my fist. Someone’s in the house. Maybe. I hope against hope that the crash of cans scared them off. But if not…

I plant my feet and raise the poker in front of me like a sword. Allie whimpers and moans behind me. I blink fiercely to clear the tears from my eyes. I need to be able to see. If I have to fight to protect her, I will. But I hope I don’t have to. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe even if the cans didn’t scare them off, it’s not actually someone who wants to harm us. Maybe it’s just someone desperate for shelter like we were. Maybe it’s even Varyyn, come to rescue us, or…

The shadows under the door shift as someone moves in the corridor beyond. The doorknob rattles as whoever it is tries the handle, but the lock holds. The next sound is a pounding knock.

“Hello?” An unfamiliar male voice drifts through the door. “Everything okay in there?”

“Wh-who are you?!” I hate how high and shaky my voice sounds. The last thing I want is to sound weak and scared, however well that describes how I feel.

“Uh...well, my name probably doesn’t mean anything to you...but I’m not here to cause trouble. It’s just I know this area, and if you’re not from around here, you probably don’t want to hang around...Listen, it kinda sounds like someone’s hurt in there…”

“M-my friend…” I hear myself admitting. I find that I’ve stepped closer to the door, too, as if drawn by the prospect of a friendly--or at least non-hostile--face on the other side. “Sh-she…she’s…”

“I’ll level with you, I stumbled across your jeep a ways back, followed the trail you left. I got a van...I could help you get her to a hospital. Or...I got a phone if you wanna call for help…”

“The phone,” I answer promptly. “Slide the phone under the door.”

“Hey, hang on. How do I know I’m gonna get it back?”

Irritation needles at me, temporarily distracting me from my fear. “My friend’s not in a condition to get out the window, and I’m not gonna leave her behind.”

He groans. “...Yeah, okay. Fair. Fine. Just a sec.”

I never thought I would cry at the sight of a smartphone, but right now, the shiny rectangle that our visitor wedges under the door is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in days. I drop the poker and pounce on it, my hands trembling as I thumb the home button. Just one further obstacle to get over.

“...Passcode…?”

Varyyn

I don’t recognize the number of the call coming through on my phone. But I answer, because the situation I am in is not one where a person ignores calls from unknown numbers.

“Hello?”

“...Varyyn?!”

My heart drops into the pit of my belly as a knot of tangled emotion wraps itself around my throat. I feel myself begin to shake.

“...Diego…? ...Diego, my darling, is that you?”

In the driver’s seat beside me, Estela stiffens. Her hand moves toward the switch that would allow our friends in the other car to listen in, but I block it with my hand, and she grips the wheel again. Not yet, I signal with a shake of my head. Not until I have something more to tell them.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me! Wh-where are you? Allie said she reached you, and you were coming for us…”

I bring my free hand back to caress the phone with my fingertips, as if I can reach through it to touch his beautiful face. My breath quivers in my throat.

“We are coming, my own sweetheart. I promise. We’re following the Prism Crystal to reach you. You...you’re together, right? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he answers with a catch in his voice. “But Allie…”

“She seemed unwell when we spoke…”

I can almost feel him nodding. “We escaped in a jeep. We were heading toward Northbridge, but it broke down. Allie was hurt, and then she got sick, and now she’s in labor, Varyyn, and I don’t know if she’s going to be okay…”

“Wait, you were heading toward Northbridge?!” I sit up straighter, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. “Where did the jeep break down?! Where are you now?!”

“We’re in an abandoned house somewhere. We were on highway fifty-eight, somewhere past mile-marker twenty-four, I think. We had to walk for awhile…”

“Twenty-four…we just passed that, just before you called! ...Estela, what…?” I suddenly realize that Estela has brought the car to a stop. She nods at the windshield. Ahead of us, I can see that our friends have stopped, and Tahira has emerged from the car with the Crystal in her hand. She turns slowly in place and leans over to speak to the others.

“...Varyyn…? Are you still there?”

“I’m here, my love. ...I…”

The radio crackles to life, and Jake’s voice comes through. “Crystal’s pointing into the trees now. Don’t think we’re gonna find a straight road through. Might be best to continue on foot.”

“Diego is on the phone!” I practically yelp in my excitement, and turn my attention back to my partner. “We’re close, my darling! Do you hear me? We’re very close now, my love, so just hold on for a little while longer and we’l--”

A massive noise that I cannot decipher on the other end of the line swallows my words. My veins turn to ice as I hear Diego cry out.

“Diego?!” I am answered only by the sound of scuffling and unintelligible voices just before the line goes dead. And then I hear my own voice, strangled and foreign to my own ears. “No!”

Diego

I’m rooted to the spot, frozen in shock as I take in Stonewall looming in the destroyed doorway. I don’t recognize the brown-haired woman grinning in front of him, nor the shaggy-haired man slumped against the wall just outside. But the woman is staring at me like she knows me and I can’t take my eyes off her face. Then Stonewall, moving with shocking speed for a man made of rocks, lunges at me. The phone slips out of my hand as he grabs my wrist. I’m pulled like a rag doll, and in the dimly lit room, I can just make out the sight of the phone being crushed under his stone foot before my arm bone and the socket of my shoulder are forcibly separated. The pain is white-hot, shooting through my shoulder like a lightning bolt and temporarily blinding me. My own scream is distant in my ears, overpowered by the screech of static as my consciousness threatens to detach from the agony. When the world finally rights itself, I am crumpled on the carpet, sobbing as I clutch my arm. It’s still attached to my body, but it won’t move. I weakly probe my shoulder, but the flashes of pain and unnatural softness I feel there make my gorge rise. I try to focus on the face above me, the grinning, girlish face of the unfamiliar woman.

“So it’s true. I do have Selected staying under my roof. And not just any Selected.” She turns her gaze toward the mattress where Allie is struggling to sit upright, a desperate attempt at a defensive posture. “...The Mystery herself. My killer.”

She turns away from me, drawing something out of her pocket as she crosses to the mattress. A switchblade. I see it gleam as she flicks it open beside her.

“Looking a little worse for wear, Alodia,” the woman purrs. “And what’s that going on with your stomach? Got a little parasite?”

“...Who are you…?” Allie croaks out the question in something that’s equal parts a whimper and a growl. The woman kneels on the edge of the mattress, trailing her fingers along Allie’s leg over the blanket.

“Not surprised you don’t recognize me. Had this pretty face hidden behind a helmet on our last encounter. But maybe you’ll figure it out when I tell you that on the day I died, you were dressed like a pirate straight out of a Disney ride. You and your friends boarded our ship, and thanks to you, I ended up overboard. I wasn’t someone anyone cared about enough to save, so I drowned.”

“...I killed you…” Allie whispers.

“Yeah, you did.”

“...You...you were holding Sean and Craig prisoner. We had to get them back.”

“Yeah, not really interested in excuses. Honestly, I find your reasoning totally understandable. I’m also probably not the only rank-and-file Arachnid you killed without regretting it.” Her hand is trailing further up Allie’s thigh now as she leans forward. “...I don’t want revenge because I think I was right and you were wrong. I want it because you killed me. And that’s just the kind of thing that needs to be answered for. I suppose if I were still dead, I wouldn’t even care. But somehow...I’m not.”

Allie’s only answer is a strangled cry of pain. It’s probably another contraction, but it makes me try to sit up sharply, only to be forced down again by a flare of pain in my shoulder that knocks the breath out of me. The woman grasps the blanket and yanks it back, exposing Allie’s naked lower body. My heart wedges in my throat as she recoils, her expression twisting in pain and terror.

“Stop!” I shriek. The woman ignores me as she grasps my friend’s knees and forces them apart.

“Just as I thought. Little parasite is probably about ready to emerge. The question now is how to play this.” The blade in her hand flashes menacingly as she brings it to hover between Allie’s legs. “I could cut it out right here. Or reach in and yank it out and brain it against the wall.”

“No...please…”

“Leave her alone!” I plead. “Please don’t hurt her!”

“Gigi, stop!” The male voice from earlier apparently belongs to the man who was slumped outside the bedroom door. The room is suddenly brighter, and when I realize his hands are engulfed in flames, it hits me who he is.

The woman--Gigi--turns to raise an eyebrow at Caleb. “Really? You’re going to threaten me with fire in an enclosed space like this? You think you can burn me without burning up this bitch or her crotchfruit?”

“I might be reckless enough to try.”

“No you’re not. I know you well enough, Caleb. You’re a weasly, immature anarchist. But you have a soft spot for kids. You always have. And you don’t want a repeat of the DMV again. You don’t ever want to come that close to burning a kid alive again.”

Caleb clenches his fists, lowering them slightly, but the flames don’t go out.

“...You’re right. I don’t.” He raises his head, smirking. “...So I’ll let someone else worry about taking you out.”

A terrible noise drowns out whatever response Gigi might be making, a deafening cacophony of twisting, groaning metal, splintering wood, and crumbling masonry. I instinctively curl in on myself, screwing my eyes shut as a blast of icy air washes over me. Even as the noise fades, I don’t let my eyes open again until I hear a familiar voice.

“Nice of you two to join the party,” Tahira says blithely. “How did you find me?”

I open my eyes and crane my neck to take in the scene through a slowly settling cloud of dust. Tahira--or Dragonness, I guess I should call her while she’s in costume--has Gigi by the throat and pressed against a wall with one hand, held up so her toes are barely touching the floor. It looks like she decided to rip the entire window out of the wall to get inside, frame and all. Talos and Minuet are in the doorway, with Minuet holding Stonewall captive in a shimmering time field.

“Got an anonymous tip that you might need help,” Minuet explains. “Kinda seemed like a trap, but also too much fun to sit out.”

“We’ll probably want to stake out the perimeter once we’re clear here.” Dragonness turns her masked gaze to me and Allie in turn. “How’re you two holding up?”

“Th-think we’ve been better…” I manage to croak. “...Is...is Varyyn…?”

“He’s not too far behind,” she assures me. “Jake and Michelle are with him. And Sean, Estela, and Rebecca.”

“...Jake…?” Allie whimpers.

“He’s coming. So you two just hang tight for a few minutes. In the meantime, Marci, can you connect me to emergency dispatch? Get the coordinates for this place ready for them, too.”

Michelle

The sounds Varyyn heard as the call from Diego was cut off finally convinced us to let Tahira suit up and fly ahead. Luckily, by that point, Iris had reached us, and it was simple enough for her to connect with Marci in order to keep the rest of us on the right path.

We arrive at the abandoned house to find a fresh gaping hole in one wall. Surprisingly, we also find Minuet outside, holding two figures face down on the grass in front of her in a shimmering time field. Light pours through the hole in the wall--and unmistakeable cries of pain.

“...Alodia!” Jake picks up speed, sprinting toward the door, Varyyn close on his heels. Iris has already flitted in through the hole.

“Emergency services are on the way,” Minuet tells me. “Dragonness has gone after Caleb and Talos is inside with Alodia and Diego!”

“Caleb was…?” I shake my head. “No, never mind. Are you all right out here?”

“Wouldn’t object to you sending the bronze idiot to give me a hand. Can’t hold these assholes indefinitely.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Oh, and watch for the canned goods in the front hallway!”

Sean, Estela, Rebecca, and I make it to the front door and pick our way over the scattered cans before following the light and noise to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Jake and Varyyn are already there, cradling their respective spouses in their arms. They both look to be in bad shape. Unfortunately, I am only one doctor, and at a glance, it’s pretty clear that Alodia needs my help first. I strongly suspect Diego would agree with me, too. Jake looks fearfully at me as I approach.

“She feels like she’s on fire…”

I kneel beside her, giving her a quick once-over glance. The degrading bandage on her lower back doesn’t escape my notice, nor does the faint, foul odor wafting off it. It looks like sweat has been wearing away at the medical tape. But that’s not my primary concern at the moment. I quickly tie my hair back, securing it at the nape of my neck, and open my bag. I need hand sanitizer, and a fresh pair of vinyl gloves.

“Iris, what’s the medical report?”

“Alodia’s temperature is one-hundred two degrees Fahrenheit. Pulse is one-hundred thirty. Rapid respiration, BP is 90/60. Staphylococcus aureus infection is detected. She is also in advanced labor. Cervix is dilated nine centimeters. Fetal heart rate is 149. Frank breech position is detected. No signs of fetal distress.”

I can feel my own heart pounding frantically against my ribs as I pull on my gloves, but I manage to keep the tremor out of my voice as I respond. “Thank you, Iris.”

“What does that all mean?” Jake asks anxiously.

“The baby is doing fine,” I reply with practiced calm. “Alodia has an infection that will need to be dealt with, but the priority now is going to be getting the baby out. Iris, what’s the report on Diego?”

She rattles off his vitals, and her assessment of his condition: mild hypothermia, mild dehydration, anterior dislocation of the shoulder.

“Rebecca, do you know how to stabilize a dislocated shoulder?”

“Yeah, I’ll get on that.”

“Thanks. There are cold packs in my bag. Should help with the pain for now. We’ll hold off oral rehydration as long as his symptoms stay mild in case he needs sedation for reduction. Alodia? Can you look at me, sweetie?” It clearly takes effort, but Alodia lifts her head off Jake’s shoulder and meets my gaze. I smile. “Good girl. I’m gonna help you through this, okay? But I’ll level with you that I’m a little outside of my wheelhouse. So I’m just going to make sure I’ve got someone over my shoulder to guide me. Sean, I need you to get my phone out of my pocket, and I’ll tell you the number to call.”

Sean does as I tell him, setting the phone on speaker beside me once it’s ringing. It’s barely two rings before I hear a voice on the other end.

“Northbridge General, Labor and Delivery.”

“This is Dr. Michelle Nguyen. I need to speak to the nearest OBGYN, midwife, or L&D nurse. Tell them I’m in an abandoned house with a mother in labor and the baby is presenting breech. I’ve got EMS en route, but it’s not likely they’ll make it before she delivers and I could use a little advice.”

“Understood, doctor. Someone will be with you in just a sec.”

Jake

I don’t understand most of what’s said between Michelle and whoever she got a hold of at the hospital. Maybe I’d understand a little better if I paid more attention, but I can’t think about that right now. All I can think about is Alodia. All I’ve wanted for...how many days or maybe weeks now is to have her back in my arms safe and sound. Now she’s back in my arms, but she’s not safe. Her skin is searing hot against mine and she’s drenching in sweat, even though she’s shaking like she’s been out naked in a snowstorm. I try to steady her against me as she whimpers in pain, her teeth rattling in her mouth.

“She’s shaking like a leaf, Maybelline. Should we get her warm or something?”

“We’re gonna keep her cozy as we can,” Michelle agrees. “But shaking during labor is pretty common. She’s doing a lot of hard work here.”

“What can I do? How can I help?”

“She’s the one to ask there,” Michelle replies, gently but pointedly. I feel a little stupid, but my embarrassment is fleeting. I look down at my wife’s flushed face, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek.

“What do you need, Princess? What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

She brings a hand up to wrap her fingers around mine. “...Don’t leave me…” Her voice is weak, but the message is clear. I kiss her hot, sweat-salted forehead, and bring mine to rest against it.

“I’m right here. I ain’t leaving you for a second. I swear. ...Don’t you leave me, either, okay?”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and their implication hangs heavy in the air around my head. I’ve been imagining my daughter’s birth for months, letting so many scenarios play out in my head like movie scenes. I knew it would hurt Alodia. I thought she’d have the option of pain relief, but I knew I’d be holding her hand through some rough moments. I didn’t always imagine the perfect happy ending, either, with River healthy and perfect in our arms. I let myself imagine complications. C-sections, River having trouble breathing. I even let myself face the possibility of a stillbirth or some other tragedy. Maybe it’s just my military background, but I felt like I had to at least acknowledge the worst-case scenarios. But now that the moment is here, I realize that I never did face the worst of the worst possibilities. I never accepted the possibility that Alodia would die in childbirth.

I look over at Michelle, knowing she heard what I said. She meets my eyes. Her gaze is steady, but there’s concern that can’t be totally disguised.

“...You said the baby was doing fine...” I murmur. My emphasis is subtle. I can’t ask the question out loud. I don’t want to ask it where Alodia can hear me. I don’t want to ask it at all.

“Alodia’s vitals are concerning,” Michelle confirms. “Most likely due to the infection. But that can’t be dealt with until the baby is born. We have to focus on what we can do here and now. Alodia, it’s almost time, so we’re gonna get you into a good position. We’re going to try getting you upright since the baby’s coming breech. Sean, grab my phone, please. Rebecca, please grab that folding chair by the desk. Nurse Michealson, are you still there?”

“Still here, doctor,” the man’s voice on the other end assures her. “Let me know when you’ve got the mother in position.”

I feel Michelle is a photographer, posing us for the world’s weirdest family portrait as she directs us to get Alodia in position. I’m instructed to sit on the chair with my knees apart and let Alodia straddle my lap so I can support her from behind and help her keep her legs open. Sean and Estela kneel on either side, supporting her feet and ankles and giving her something to push against. I wrap one arm around her chest, taking her hand with the other.

“I’m right here, Princess,” I murmur into her ear. “I gotcha.”

“Jake…” She whimpers, her free hand shaking as she reaches back to caress my cheek with sweat-damp fingertips. “...She won’t die. River won’t die…”

“You’re right. She won’t. She’s gonna be just fine.”

“...I’m scared…”

“I know. But you got this. You’re not alone. We’re right here. You can do this.”

“Okay, Alodia, this is it.” Michelle grips Alodia’s knees, smiling encouragingly. “You’re almost through this. Remember you’ve got millions of years of instinct behind you, so don’t be afraid to trust it.”

Alodia nods, and I feel a wave of calm washing over both of us. There’s no more choice in the matter. Nature has taken over, swept up my wife and child, and there’s nothing for Alodia, River, or me to do but let the currents carry us to shore. I brush my wife’s ear with my lips.

“I love you more than anything, Alodia Rose Chandler,” I whisper.

“Deep breath, Alodia,” Michelle instructs, her eyes never leaving Alodia’s face. “And...push.”

I close my eyes as Alodia goes rigid in my arms, her hands squeezing me for dear life. I grip back, speaking whatever encouraging words I can come up with into her ear. It’s not like I have to think hard to come up with them. I’m barely thinking at all as I tell her that she’s the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known, that I love her with my whole soul, that I’m right here with her, that I’m never going to leave her. I can’t take her pain away, and I can’t labor for her, but I’m riding the currents of it right beside her, responding to keep her feeling secure and protected. She pushes. She rests. Push. Rest. She stiffens with a weak cry, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It hurts…”

“I know, Princess. It sucks, but I’m told having a baby tends to kinda smart.”

“Bottom’s getting ready to deliver, Alodia,” Michelle says. “It’s going to sting for a moment or two, but then the worst will be over. Need you to pull back a little, just small, gentle pushes.”

Alodia gathers her strength, and I try to add mine to hers. I dare to glance down, and catch a glimpse of tiny feet and legs. Then, a moment later, she’s here. My daughter is here, shrieking her little lungs out like she’s come out ready to fight the whole world.

Something halfway between a laugh and a sob tumbles out of me as I look down at the furious creature flailing and howling on the blanket at Michelle’s knees while she clamps and cuts the umbilical cord. She’s like something out of a horror movie, wrinkled and wet with blood and god knows what else, but she’s so goddamn beautiful. I kiss my wife’s cheek over and over, rocking her as gently as I can manage with all the emotion coursing through my veins.

“You did it, Princess. She’s here and she’s perfect…Princess…?” Her grip on my hand has begun to slacken. And just like that, elation turns to terror as my wife goes limp in my arms. “Alodia!”

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