CHAPTER 13: THE BIRTH

Blood. Water. Screaming.

Medical bay smelled like iron and fear.

Bianca was on the mattress, legs shaking, dress pulled up, face red and sweating, screaming with every contraction. Her water broke 20 minutes ago, clear fluid with blood now, contracting every 2 minutes. Too fast for 32 weeks. Too fast. Her body was in panic.

Damian held her hand, pale, his infected arm wrapped, looking at me like I was God. "Elena, please, help her, help baby..."

Killian stood at the glass door, gun down, but body tense, ready to run in if I fell. He had put on full decontamination suit, gloves, mask, but his eyes behind glass were only on me. On my flat belly with twins. On my face. Not on Bianca.

"EVA, vitals," I said, doctor voice on, even though I was 3 weeks pregnant with twins and scared.

EVA: "Bianca Cole, blood pressure 150/95, high, heart rate 110, fever 37.8 from stress. Fetus heart rate 165, high but okay for stress. Contractions every 2 minutes, 45 seconds long. Cervix 6 cm dilated, 100% effaced. She will deliver in 1 hour. Premature but possible."

1 hour. 7 months baby in 1 hour, in a bunker, with no incubator.

"Bianca, listen to me!" I knelt, even though Killian shouted "Sit!", I sat on floor beside her, holding her hand. "You are 32 weeks. Baby early but can live. Baby will be small, maybe 1.5 kg, will need oxygen, warmth, will not cry loud. But can live if you push right. You understand?"

Bianca nodded, crying, screaming as another contraction hit. "It hurts! It hurts so much! I can't! I can't push! I am scared!"

"You can," I said, hard voice, doctor hard voice. "You laughed at me when I cried. Now you cry. But your baby didn't laugh. Your baby is innocent. So you will push for your baby, not for you. Push!"

She screamed, pushed.

Killian watched, hand on glass. "Elena, your face pale. You okay? Twins okay?"

"I am okay," I said, sweating. "EVA, give me oxygen mask for baby, warm blankets, and that emergency baby kit. And gloves."

EVA's robotic arm dropped box: gloves, scissors, clamp, oxygen mask size tiny, blankets.

Damian tried to help, but Killian shouted through speaker: "You! Out! Go to corner! You touch my wife and I shoot your other arm!"

Damian moved to corner, scared.

Second contraction. Bianca pushed, screaming so loud the bunker walls echoed.

"Good! I see head! Black hair! Push again!" I shouted.

Head. Small head, wet, black hair. 32 weeks head, small like orange.

Bianca pushed with all her life, with all her jealousy, with all her fear, and the head came out.

Then shoulders. Small shoulders. Then whole baby, slippery, tiny, 1.4 kg maybe, blue, not crying.

Silence. No cry. My heart stopped. Premature babies sometimes don't cry.

"Why no cry? Why no cry?!" Bianca screamed, trying to sit up, seeing blue baby.

I held tiny baby, upside down, rubbed back hard, fast, doctor hands remembering. Rub, rub, rub back.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Then - tiny, tiny cry. Like kitten. Weak, but cry.

Baby cried. Alive.

"It's a girl!" I said, tears coming. "Bianca, it's a girl! Small but alive!"

Bianca cried, loud, not jealous cry, mother cry. "Girl... my girl... give me... give me my girl..."

I clamped cord, cut, wrapped baby in warm blanket, put oxygen mask tiny on her face. Baby girl, 32 weeks, eyes closed, tiny fists, breathing fast but breathing.

EVA: "Infant female, 1.4 kg, 32 weeks, APGAR 6, breathing with assistance, needs warmth and oxygen 24 hours. I have made incubator from food warmer. Temperature 37C. Place her there."

Food warmer turned incubator. Smart EVA.

I placed baby in warmer, oxygen still on, warm.

Bianca tried to reach, but I held her shoulder. "You need deliver placenta. Push again."

She pushed, placenta out, bloody. I checked, complete.

Then I looked at my hands, bloody, and at Bianca, crying looking at her tiny girl in warmer, and at Damian in corner crying, and at Killian at glass, looking at me with love and fear, hand on his gun, hand on glass.

I stood, dizzy, twins inside moving? No, too early, but dizzy from bending.

Killian opened glass, ran in, full suit, grabbed me, lifted me, carried me out of blood, out of medical bay, back to main bunker, to bedroom.

"You did it," he whispered, laying me on bed, taking off bloody gloves, checking my belly, checking my face. "You saved them. Even after they laughed at baby shoes. You saved their baby girl. You are... Elena, you are better than me. I would have let them die."

"I am mother now," I whispered, crying, tired, hand on twins. "Mother of twins must be kind. So twins learn kind."

He kissed my forehead, my belly, my hands bloody. "Rest. You and pups rest. I will watch them. I will bring Bianca water. I will keep girl warm. You rest."

Behind glass, medical bay, Bianca lay on mattress, staring at food warmer incubator where her tiny girl breathed with oxygen mask, alive.

She whispered, voice hoarse from screaming, through speaker that Killian turned on low for me to hear:

"Elena... thank you... thank you for saving my girl... I called you barren... and you saved my girl... I'm sorry... I'm sorry for laughing... I'm sorry..."

She cried, mother crying, not jealous anymore. Just mother.

Damian knelt by warmer, looking at baby girl, his girl, crying too. "Thank you, Elena... thank you..."

And in main bunker bedroom, I lay, 3 weeks pregnant with twins, who had just helped deliver 32 weeks premature girl, in apocalypse, 100 feet underground, while 40 infected banged on fence outside, smelling blood, but inside, new life cried tiny kitten cry.

Three babies now. One bunker. One apocalypse. My twins still inside, Bianca's girl outside in warmer, all alive.

END OF CHAPTER 13

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AUTHOR NOTE: SHE'S ALIVE! 😭🔥 Bianca have given birth to a baby girl! 1.4kg tiny but ALIVE!

The Elena they called barren helped them delivered their baby!

What should Bianca name her girl? Should she name am after Elena to say sorry? Comment name ideas!

And Team Killian - he carried Elena after blood, no anger! True love! Comment KILLIAN TRUE LOVE if you cry! ❤️