CHAPTER 15: THE RED LIGHT

Tiny Elena Cole was 24 hours old and she stopped breathing.

Not slow. Just stopped.

One minute she was in the food warmer, chest moving fast, oxygen mask fogging with each tiny breath. Next minute, chest still. No movement. No fog on mask.

Bianca screamed. Not from the mattress. She was already standing, holding the edge of the warmer, knuckles white.

"She's not breathing! Elena! She's not breathing!"

Damian slammed his fist on the glass. "ELENA! DOCTOR! PLEASE!"

I was in bed. 3 weeks pregnant with twins. Killian had locked the main bunker door. He said I needed 24 hours no blood, no stress, after delivering a baby. EVA agreed. Twins high risk.

But EVA's voice cut through the bedroom speaker, loud, no longer calm.

"ALERT. Infant Elena Cole. Apnea. Heart rate dropping. 90... 80... 70... Premature apnea common at 32 weeks. Requires immediate stimulation. If no breath in 60 seconds, mortality 40%."

Apnea. Premature babies forget to breathe. Their brain is too small.

Killian was already up, gun, suit half on. He looked at me.

I looked at his eyes. Monster eyes, but father eyes now.

"Open it," I said.

He opened it. No argument. He knew.

I ran. Barefoot. No suit. No time for suit.

Medical bay. I pushed Bianca aside, gentle but hard. Lifted tiny Elena, 1.4 kg, blue around lips, limp.

No time for gentle. Premature apnea needs rub, hard rub, pain to wake brain.

I rubbed her back, hard, with two fingers, up and down spine. Hard.

One second. Two.

Nothing.

I flicked her foot. Hard flick. The tiny foot, smaller than my thumb.

Tiny Elena gasped. Then coughed. Then wailed. Thin, angry, alive wail.

Chest moving again. Fog on mask again.

Heart rate: 70... 100... 140. Back.

She breathed.

Bianca collapsed to floor, holding her knees, shaking. "I thought... I thought she died... I thought..."

Damian slid down glass, head in hands, his infected arm forgotten.

I held tiny Elena to my chest, her tiny body against my flat belly where twins grew. Two inside, one outside, all breathing because I rubbed.

Then EVA said something that changed everything.

"Ms. Thorne, while you were sleeping, I ran DNA from placenta. Routine check. Infant Elena Cole DNA does not match male human Damian Cole. Match 0%."

Silence.

Bianca froze.

Damian looked up, slow.

I looked at Bianca. She went white.

"What?" Damian said, voice low, not shouting, worse than shouting. "What did AI say?"

EVA repeated, flat. "Infant Elena Cole is not biologically related to Damian Cole. Father unknown. Mother Bianca Cole confirmed."

Bianca started shaking. Not crying. Shaking.

"Bianca," I said, holding tiny Elena who was now breathing fast again. "Whose baby is this?"

She covered her mouth. "I... I..."

Damian stood, despite infection, despite fever, stood tall. "Whose baby, Bianca? You told me you were pregnant . You said it was mine. You made me stay with you because you were pregnant with my child. I stayed. I left Elena because you said you were pregnant with my child."

Bianca fell to floor, full prostrate. "It was... it was one night... before apocalypse... I didn't know I was pregnant... I thought it was yours... I thought... I was with someone at hotel... I didn't know... I swear I thought it was yours..."

Hotel. Before apocalypse. While she was still with Damian, she slept with someone else.

Damian laughed. One short, broken laugh. "You made me call my wife barren. You made me pay doctors $1000 to fake report so she would think she was broken and stay. I did it because you said you were pregnant with my child. Real child. Not barren wife. Real child. And now... not even mine?"

He looked at tiny Elena Cole, 1.4 kg, breathing in my hands, named after me.

"That baby is not mine," he said, voice empty. "I destroyed my life for a baby that is not mine."

Bianca crawled to his feet. "Damian, please, it doesn't matter, she is still your daughter, you raised..."

"Don't touch me," he said, stepping back, holding his infected arm. "Don't."

Killian watched from glass door, arms crossed. He pressed speaker so only I heard in my earpiece.

"Elena. Come back. Now. This is their war, not ours. Bring baby? No. Leave baby. Come."

But I couldn't. Tiny Elena in my hands, breathing, blue gone, pink now, eyes closed, named after me, father unknown, mother liar, but innocent.

I looked at Bianca on floor, exposed. For first time, she had no lie left. No jealousy weapon. Just truth, ugly.

"Bianca," I said, quiet. "You laughed at me for buying baby shoes when you were pregnant with another man's child and you didn't even know whose? You called me desperate?"

She sobbed into floor. "Yes. I was worse. I was worse than you. I am sorry."

Damian turned to me. Fever eyes, but clear for first time in 3 years. "Elena... I told everyone you were barren, defective product. At golf club, at church, to my mother. I said you were empty. But look at you. You hold a baby that is not yours, that is your enemy's baby, with another man's baby, and you save it twice. You are not barren. I was blind. I paid $1000 to destroy a woman who saves babies in apocalypse with no hospital. I am... I am the defective product."

He knelt. In front of me. In medical bay. Head down.

"I'm sorry, Elena Voss. I am sorry."

First time he used my doctor name. Not wife. Not barren wife. Dr. Voss.

Killian stepped in, pulled me back by waist, gentle but firm. He took tiny Elena from my hands, placed her back in warmer, oxygen back on, with surprising gentleness for a man who holds guns in sleep.

"Enough," Killian said, loud enough for both. "My wife is 3 weeks pregnant with twins. High risk. She saved your baby twice today. Once at birth, once now from apnea. She does not need your drama. She needs bed rest. So this is new rule. Final rule."

He looked at Damian, then Bianca.

"Bianca, you keep baby Elena Cole. You feed her. But you will tell my wife truth every day, one truth about how you hurt her. One per day. Until you run out. Damian, you will work and you will also tell one truth per day about how you hurt her. You will write it on paper, EVA will give paper, you will give to my wife. So she can burn it or keep it. And after 30 days, if baby lives, you both can ask to stay. If baby dies, you leave bunker. Deal?"

Deal with monster.

Bianca nodded, face on floor. "Yes. Yes, deal."

Damian nodded. "Yes. Deal. I will write."

I was pulled back to bedroom, Killian's hand on my belly, twins safe, but behind glass, tiny Elena Cole breathed again, apnea gone for now, but would come again. Premature babies forget to breathe many times.

And her DNA said father unknown.

Who was father? Someone at hotel before apocalypse. Someone who might be alive, outside, among 20 infected still at fence, or dead, or inside bunker?

Bianca knew. But she didn't say.

END OF CHAPTER 15

---

AUTHOR NOTE: JESUS! 😱 BABY IS NOT DAMIAN'S!?

Bianca cheated before apocalypse! Damian destroyed Elena marriage for a baby that is NOT HIS!

Will Damian leave Bianca now? Who is real father - is he alive outside?

Comment WHO IS FATHER? And should Elena forgive Damian now he knelt and said sorry?