CHAPTER 17: TWO SONS

Elena Thorne sneezed and kept breathing.

That was all we needed. She breathed.

I stood with my hand on the glass of the incubator, watching her tiny chest rise and fall. 1.4 kilograms. Thorne blood. My husband's niece. My namesake. The baby who was supposed to destroy us had just become family.

Behind me, the bunker was too quiet.

Damian was still on his knees in the medical bay. Bianca was on the floor beside him, but not touching him. There were six inches between them that felt like six miles. For the first time since they entered my bunker, they were not a couple. They were two strangers who made a mistake in a hotel in Seattle.

Killian's hand was still on my belly. His two sons. He had not taken his hand off since EVA said the words.

"My sons," he whispered again, only for me. "You did not tell me."

"I wanted to be sure," I whispered back. "EVA told me this morning. Two boys. Both strong. She said if they were girls, their heart rate would be different. But these two, they fight each other already. Like their father."

That made him smile. The real smile, not the monster one. The one only I saw.

"Two boys who fight," he said. "They will need a bigger bunker."

EVA interrupted us. She always did when emotions got too human.

"Warning. Infant Elena Thorne Cole requires more formula. Current supply estimated 18 days at current consumption. Mrs. Bianca Cole's milk supply is insufficient due to stress and malnutrition. I recommend we start supplement plan."

Bianca's head snapped up. "I can feed her. I will. Give me more water, more food, I will make milk."

"You will," I said. "But EVA is right. She needs more. I will help."

She stared at me. "You? But you are pregnant..."

"I can help with the formula schedule. I can hold her so you can sleep. That helps milk come," I said. It was not about milk. It was about not letting that tiny girl die because her mother was too tired to produce.

Killian nodded. "Elena is right. From today, we change shifts. Bianca, you and baby Elena stay in medical bay. It is warmest. Damian, you move to storage room B. You still have fever. 38.2. You are contagious."

Damian did not argue. He stood up slowly, holding the wall. The fever was back, plus shame. Shame is heavier than any infection.

"And me?" I asked.

"You stay with me," Killian said. "In our room. Doctor's orders. No stress. You are carrying two Thorne heirs. You are now the most important person in this bunker. More than EVA. More than the food. More than me."

He said it loud, for the others to hear. For Damian to hear. For Bianca to hear.

My wife is more important than you. My sons are more important than your daughter. But your daughter is Thorne, so she stays.

Damian understood. He looked at me, eyes empty. "Elena, can I ask one thing? Before I go to storage?"

"What?"

"Can I... can I touch her? Once? Even if she is not mine. I thought she was mine for seven months. I talked to her. I... I bought a teddy bear for her. It's in my bag. Can I give it to her?"

Bianca started crying again. "Damian..."

Killian looked at me. Again, my decision.

I thought about all the nights Damian told me I was barren. All the times his mother called me empty. All the times Bianca sent me messages: "He wants a real child, leave him."

And I thought about tiny Elena, 1.4 kg, who did not ask to be born in an apocalypse, whose father Keon died in Seattle before he knew he had a daughter.

I opened the medical bay door.

"One minute," I said. "Wash your hands first. Full sterilization."

Damian washed his hands like a man about to touch a miracle. EVA sprayed him twice.

He leaned over the incubator. Tiny Elena Thorne Cole opened her eyes for the first time. Blue-gray, unfocused, but open.

Damian put one finger near her tiny hand. She did not grab it. She was too weak.

But he whispered, "I am sorry I thought you were mine. I am sorry I left a good woman for a lie. Be better than me. Be like her," he looked at me, "Be like Elena. She forgives even when we don't deserve it."

He placed a small brown teddy bear, still in plastic, beside the incubator. "From... from an uncle. Not father. Uncle Damian."

Bianca watched, tears running. "Thank you."

Damian turned and walked to Storage Room B without looking back. The door closed behind him.

EVA: "Mr. Damian Cole's fever 38.4. Recommending isolation and antibiotics. He will need 24-hour monitoring."

"I will monitor him," Bianca said quickly. "I owe him that. Even if we are not together."

"No," I said. "You monitor your daughter. I will monitor Damian. You and Damian are over. If you want to stay in this bunker, you work as team, not as couple. Understood?"

Bianca nodded. "Yes. Team."

Killian pulled me away from the glass. "You should rest. Two sons need rest. And I need to tell you something about Seattle."

We walked back to our room. He locked the door.

"What about Seattle?"

"My brother Keon did not die in the first week," he said quietly. "I lied. He died yesterday. EVA found his body on drone footage yesterday, not last year. The infected killed him yesterday, near the Seattle safe zone border. He was trying to get here. To the bunker. He knew the code."

I froze. "Yesterday? So when Bianca was... when she was with him..."

"He called me three weeks ago, Elena. Said he was sick. Fever. He said a woman he was with months ago might be pregnant, and if she came to the bunker, to protect the child. He knew he might be the father. He told me to protect Bianca if she ever arrived, because he thought she was kind. He said she cried at the bar because her boyfriend cheated on her with his wife. He felt sorry for her."

My hand went to my mouth. "So Keon knew? He knew Bianca might be pregnant with his child?"

"Yes. And he asked me to raise it if he died. So this baby... I did not just find out she is my niece. I knew for three weeks she might be my niece. I did not tell you because I did not want you stressed."

He touched my belly. "Two sons coming. And now a niece who lost her father yesterday. Yesterday, Elena. Her father died yesterday while she was being born downstairs."

Tiny Elena Thorne Cole sneezed again downstairs. Louder.

From the speaker, Bianca's voice, panicked: "Elena! Killian! She is crying! Real crying! Not squeak!"

Killian and I ran.

In the medical bay, Tiny Elena Thorne Cole, 1.4 kg, Thorne blood, daughter of Keon Thorne who died yesterday trying to reach us, was crying. Full, angry, alive crying.

She wanted to live.

END OF CHAPTER 17