CHAPTER 14: NAME AFTER THE WOMAN WHO SAVED US

The baby was twelve hours old.

1.4 kilograms. Tiny. Smaller than a loaf of bread. In the food warmer that EVA turned into an incubator, temperature 37C, oxygen mask too big for her tiny face, but breathing. Chest moving up and down, fast but steady. Alive.

I slept after the delivery. Killian made me sleep. He carried me from the blood in medical bay to our bedroom, laid me on the soft bed, hand on my flat belly where twins were growing. I slept twelve hours straight, no dreams, just black and tired.

I woke at 8 PM to EVA's soft voice.

"Ms. Thorne, infant female stable. Vital signs good for 32 weeks. Mother Bianca awake and asking to see you. Male human Damian arm infection down to 37.9 degrees. Outer horde twenty infected left at fence, others left. Blood smell gone."

Stable. Good word. Stable means alive.

I got up, quiet. Killian woke immediately, gun in hand, even in sleep he hears me stand.

"Where you going?" he asked, voice rough from sleep.

"Medical bay," I whispered. "To check baby."

He stood, barefoot, followed. No argument today. He just followed, gun down, tired.

Medical bay glass. Bianca sat up on the mattress. Pale, blood still on her dress, hair messy, face swollen from crying and pushing. But her eyes were not on me, not jealous eyes anymore. Her eyes were on the incubator. Mother eyes. Real mother eyes for first time.

She saw me behind glass. Tried to stand, legs shaking, fell back on mattress.

"Elena... thank you... my girl breathes... because of you... she breathes..."

Damian knelt by the incubator, close but not touching, looking at tiny girl, his daughter, 1.4 kg, tiny fingers, tiny toes, eyes closed. He counted fingers with his good arm.

"Elena, she... she didn't cry loud at first... I thought she dead... silent... but you rubbed her back... hard... and she cried... tiny cry... you saved her..."

I pressed speaker button. My voice calm.

"Bianca, how is bleeding?"

"Less," she said, hand on belly. "EVA gave me medicine to stop bleeding. And water. I... I want to name her. Can I... can I ask you something? Can I name her after you?"

My hand went to my belly. Twins inside.

"After me?" I asked.

"Yes," Bianca cried, tears running fast. "I called you barren. I laughed when you bought baby shoes, tiny white shoes, hoping one day. I told Damian you were crazy and desperate. I laughed in garden when you cried at 2 AM. You hid shoes in closet. I saw. I laughed. And yesterday you saved my baby girl with no shoes, no hospital, just your hands and blood. You are not barren. You are mother. So her name is Elena. Elena Cole. So she remembers who saved her. So she grows kind like you, not jealous like me. Please, can I name her Elena?"

Name after me. The woman who destroyed my marriage wants to name her daughter after me.

I cried. Pregnancy hormones plus kindness make tears fast.

"Bianca... you don't have to..."

"I want to," Bianca said, looking at tiny girl in warmer. "I want her to know. When she is older, I will tell her a woman named Elena saved her when world ended, when she was 7 months early, with no doctor, no hospital. And that woman was called barren by everyone, but she was the only real mother in the room. So her name is Elena. Elena Cole. If you let me."

Tiny Elena in incubator sneezed. Tiny sneeze, like kitten, weak.

Killian behind me, hand on my shoulder, smiled. Small smile, monster smile but soft. First time he smiled at Bianca.

"Good name," he said, voice low through speaker. "Strong name. My wife's name is strong. Your daughter will be strong like my wife. Good choice."

First compliment Killian ever gave Bianca. She cried harder.

Damian looked up at me, eyes red. "Elena... our girl... Elena Cole... thank you, Elena Thorne. For saving my daughter. Even after I paid doctors to say you barren. You saved my blood. My child. I don't deserve... I know I don't..."

"You don't," Killian said, cold but not shouting, calm. "But baby does. Baby innocent. So you will work to feed her. Starting tomorrow, you clean incubator area twice a day. You change her blankets. And Bianca, you rest two days, doctor order, then you clean medical bay. My bunker, my rules. No free food. Work for baby. Fair?"

Work for baby. Fair in apocalypse.

Bianca nodded from mattress, crying, nodding. "Yes! Yes! I will clean! I will do anything! Thank you, Mr. Thorne!"

Damian nodded too. "Yes. Work. I will work for my daughter. For Elena Cole. Thank you."

I looked at tiny Elena in warmer, then at my flat belly with twins inside, two heartbeats that EVA said we would hear in 5 weeks on ultrasound. Three babies now in bunker. My twins inside, tiny Elena outside, all alive, all girls maybe.

"Bianca," I said, soft. "You need to feed her. Skin to skin helps premature babies breathe better. EVA, can we remove oxygen 5 minutes for feeding?"

EVA: "Yes, Ms. Thorne. But mother must wash hands sterile, wear mask, and sit clean. Baby premature, infection risk very high. Five minutes only, then oxygen back."

Bianca washed hands with sterile water EVA provided, wore mask, Killian opened small slot, she reached with shaking hands, picked tiny Elena, 1.4 kg, placed on her chest, skin to skin, tiny mouth searching, eyes still closed.

Baby latched. Weak latch, but latch.

Bianca cried, loud mother cry, real mother cry, not jealous cry anymore. "She eats... she eats... my girl eats... Elena Cole eats..."

Damian cried too, watching his daughter eat for first time, in a bunker, in apocalypse, 100 feet underground, saved by his ex-wife he called barren, named after his ex-wife.

Killian turned me away from glass, hand on my back. "You rest. You saw enough blood today. You delivered one baby today, you don't need to see another feed. Our pups need rest. You are good mother already. Come."

He carried me to bedroom, laid me on bed, covered me, hand on my belly, kissing forehead.

"Two pups," he whispered. "You delivered one pup today, tiny Elena pup, but you have two pups inside. You are good mother already. Best mother I know. My mother never saved anyone. She left. You saved enemy baby. My twins will be proud of their mother. I am proud."

I slept, dreaming of three girls: my twins maybe girls, plus tiny Elena Cole who would grow up in bunker knowing my name, calling me Aunt Elena maybe.

Outside, behind glass, Bianca held tiny Elena Cole to chest, feeding, crying, banged on steel, clicking, smelling old blood, but inside, tiny Elena Cole cried tiny kitten cry for milk, alive, named after barren woman who was now mother of twins.

END OF CHAPTER 14