*****

She wails, straining against me, but at least now she’s warm. She’s lost that deadly chill, the clamminess to her flesh she had when we first found her.

And I think hope has eased the pain for her. She still screams as her body spasms, but now she sounds more like ‘my Charlotte’. The screams are of defiance and determination, not of hopelessness and fear.

And she’s mad…

Angry as hell…

I sit, leaning back against the wall, Charlotte cradled in my arms. She, lying between my knees, is supported against my chest. Her rib cage pressed to mine, her heartbeat thumps through me. And the breath in her saturated lungs rattles as she breathes.

When it really comes down to it, what can I do to help her? Other than keep her warm? Help her feel safe? While she gets on with doing what women have done as long as there have been women; delivering our children.

She relaxes back against me, panting as her most recent contraction eases.

I curve around, kiss her cheek. “How do you feel now?”

Klempner glances back.

She struggles to turn, head twisting round as far as she can towards mine. “Feel?” she screeches. “How the fuck do you think I feel? It’s like someone's trying to scoop out my fucking vagina with a fucking soup ladle!”

Klempner chuckles and turns away. “That’s my girl.”

*****

Klempner stirs. “Michael, time's up.” He jerks his chin up to where the indicator on the camera is blinking red.

Crap…

“Got my hands full here. You're just going to have to hold them off.”

“Wonderful.” He leans cautiously out, then yanks back as from outside, the sound of a shot ricochets along the corridor.

He exchanges glances with Charlotte. “Jenny, this is a good time to keep doing what you’re doing.”

squeeze her in my arms, whisper close by her. “Babe,

“I am fucking pushing…”

*****

Richard

receives the red-carpet treatment. And the doctor is comforting in

assured, your wife is in the best possible hands. We will try first to

“But what…?”

He brandishes a

Elizabeth…

armchair, gulping down a glass

should reduce the contractions. If we’re lucky, it

*****

James

painfully, I arrive at

camping overnight; the other end with cars and a couple of skinny cats squabbling over something they’re trying to peel from the

of things; a simple facility for shoppers and visitors to the local restaurants,

the distant rumble of traffic, my footsteps echo into the gloom. In the

Are you cold, Jade-Eyes?

They’re coming for you…

And Cara…

I’m buying them time to get

found it; a slip of paper tucked under the wiper

sell your car?

I scan the rank; a dozen or fifteen cars, and every fucking windscreen has a

along, working my way through them, looking for the one

count. twenty, thirty, forty

bruises at

it comes to

… I’m not alone.

again. My back turned, they’re all

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