Райан Уэстфилд - Finding Shelter

Max got his body flipped over, his arms in front of him. He didn’t have a weapon. But at least he could do something.

He would have never thought of doing nothing, of giving up. It wasn’t in his character.

If it had been, he would have died long ago.

Grant was already there, waiting for Max to get himself flipped over. He looked tall in the shadows, in the darkness. His torso had that classic V-taper. Those classic broad, strong shoulders. It all seemed more pronounced in the harsh outlines of the darkness.

“You’re going to tell me everything,” growled Grant. “I’m not letting some halfwit Californian upstage me. Not after all this time. All this work I’ve put in.”

Max didn’t protest. He didn’t open his mouth.

He’d do everything he could to survive.

But he wasn’t going to protest his innocence. He wasn’t that kind of man. This wasn’t his kind of game.

Grant’s fist was huge. It sped towards Max. Max’s hands did nothing to block it.

Grant was strong. Very strong. His fist collided with Max’s face.

Max’s vision went fuzzy and black. Saw the bright lights scattered across the TV-like static.

Then another blow. And another.

The back of Max’s head bounced off the earth underneath him. There was blood, and, somehow dirt, in his mouth.

“What’s wrong with her?” whispered Cynthia.

“I don’t know. Do you still have that book?”

“Book? Which book?”

“The midwife one. The one Max found at that old bookstore. Remember?”

Georgia was a little annoyed. Why did it sometimes seem like she had to explain everything?

“Be right back.”

Mandy groaned in pain.

Cynthia slipped out the door. As she did, Georgia spotted John’s worried face peering in.

“Go do something useful, John,” snapped Georgia. “You’re going to make us all nervous hanging onto our every word.”

John gave a sheepish nod and his head disappeared again.

“I’m scared, Georgia,” said Mandy.

Georgia was a mother, but she’d never been “that” type of mother exactly, the type that was good at showing caring, the type that was always sweet and knew how to show affection. Her own kids had said for years that she’d hardly ever hugged them, but that they’d known she’d cared for them because she’d have killed anyone who wronged her kids.

“It’s going to be OK,” said Georgia, patting Mandy in a somewhat artificial manner on her shoulder.

“You don’t know that,” said Mandy. “You’re just saying that.”

Most people would have denied it. Most people would have continued on, insisting that everything would definitely be OK, no matter what.

That wasn’t Georgia’s style.

“Things are looking bad,” she said. “But not as bad as they could be. You’re experiencing pain when you shouldn’t. You’re experiencing weakness when you shouldn’t. You should be feeling good and strong, but you’re not, and that’s all a problem. And it’d all be fine if we had a hospital or a doctor. But we don’t. We don’t have much, except a book on midwifery.”

“Midwife?” scoffed Mandy. “What good is that going to do me? Don’t we have a real medical textbook somewhere?”

“Yes,” said Georgia. “We do, but it’s not going to do us a lot of good if all the solutions involve big fancy electric-powered machines that we simply don’t have around. Midwifery, however, has existed for thousands of years and doesn’t rely on things like that.”

“It also can’t cure many things,” said Mandy. “If I’ve got a serious problem, I’ll lose the baby. And I don’t know if I can go through that. It’ll be devastating.”

“I’m not going to feed you a bunch of lines,” said Georgia. “As you can see, I’m not good at that kind of stuff. I always say it like it is.”

“That’s why I can trust you.”

“OK,” said Georgia. “So here it is. If you lose the baby, it’ll be devastating, but you’ll get through it. But that’s not the real danger.”

“It’s not?”

“The real danger is that you’re far enough along in your pregnancy that you’re not just going to lose the baby, but that we’ll lose you as well.”

Mandy’s expression changed dramatically.

“Now,” said Georgia. “We’re going to do everything we can to stop that.”

“How could you say that?” said Cynthia, appearing once again inside, her face full of fury. Fury directed right at Georgia. “You want to scare her to death or what?”

Georgia didn’t know what to say. She did notice, however, that Cynthia had brought back the book she’d requested. The book on midwifery.

“Now don’t worry, Mandy,” said Cynthia. “Everything’s going to be OK. Don’t listen to Georgia. You’re not going to die, and you’re not going to lose the baby. We’re not going to let that happen to you.”

“Don’t tell me things you don’t know,” said Mandy.

“I’m just trying to help. Unlike Georgia.”

“At least she gives it to me straight.”

“What’s going on in there?” It was Dan’s voice from outside the building.

“Everything’s fine, Dan,” called out Cynthia.

Georgia already had the midwife book open to the index. There was a list of pregnancy complications, as well as a short list of symptoms.

“I may have something,” said Georgia, turning quickly to page 81, the short chapter for “back labor,” which had some of the symptoms that Mandy had described. “Something called back labor… I don’t know… I think I’ve heard of it before.”

Georgia’s own pregnancy was so long ago that she couldn’t remember the various terms the doctors had used. She hadn’t wanted, at the time, anything to do with midwives. She’d wanted doctors. Good old-fashioned doctors, and modern hospitals. It was funny that she was now looking at midwifery book, which, really, was a tradition far older than modern medical doctors, for better or for worse.

“Let me see the book,” said Cynthia, trying to grab it from Georgia’s hands. It was uncharacteristic of Cynthia, but the situation had everyone on edge, so maybe it was understandable.

“Just a minute,” said Georgia, scanning the pages rapidly. “Shit. This is something that only happens during labor.”

“Let me see it then,” said Cynthia, sounding desperate. “I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“Mom?” It was James’s voice from outside the building.

“Not now, James.”

“This is serious.”

“If your sister wants to work with you two, just let her,” said Georgia, getting more annoyed and frustrated by the second.

“Sadie’s gone,” said James.

Georgia’s heart felt like it stopped.

She snapped her head around.

James’s head had appeared in the doorway. It wasn’t the sort of thing James would ever joke about, not since the EMP, but after seeing his face, Georgia was 100 percent sure that he was serious. His young face looked weary, completely pale in color, as if the youth had been drained from it.

“Has anyone seen Sadie?” said Georgia, turning back to Cynthia.

“I already checked, Mom,” said James. “I asked everyone.”

“What about Mandy? She’s been in here the whole time. Have you seen Sadie today, Mandy?”

Mandy’s pained face shook back and forth. “No,” she said. “Not since yesterday.”

“Anyone else?”

Everyone was shaking their heads.

“Shit, shit,” Georgia was muttering. “OK, James, when was the last time… we’ll have to ask everyone…”

“Already did,” said James. There was intense worry on his face. But also determination etched into it. And for that moment, despite Georgia’s panic at losing her only daughter, she felt pride for James, pride in the fact that he already knew what to do. Obviously he cared about his sister, and he was smart and strategic enough to already have done everything he could do. Before even going to his mom, he’d asked everyone if they’d seen her, and thought about her last whereabouts.