Maya Bishop Station 19 Novels & Stories

The next night the station felt even quieter than usual. Maya waited until the last of the crew had closed their bunk doors. Her heart beat steady and hard as she pulled on her mid-layers and stepped into the corridor. The observation dome sat at the far end of the complex, a raised glass structure used for aurora readings and long-range ice scans. Most nights it stayed empty after twenty-two hundred. The door sealed behind her with a soft hiss. Elias was already there.

This is a conversation I need to execute alone. The Wayne County Jail squats on Clinton Street, a low concrete block in the shadow of the Frank Murphy Hall of Justice. The air outside reeks of diesel from the Gratiot Avenue buses and the cold mineral bite of the river. Maya waits near the entrance, two coffees steaming in her grip, her dark eyes keen despite the brutal hour. "She's been demanding you," Maya says. "Not Julian. You." "Why me?" "I don't know. But she claimed it was urgent. Something she couldn't scratch onto paper."

************ Hours later, I paced around the study, waiting for a response from Blazer or any of the people who went to find Maya. I heard Dashiell sigh, and I looked up to face him. "Still no news?" Just as he was about to answer, his phone rang. He answered immediately. My heart raced as I heard Blazer's voice on the other end. "We've found Maya," Blazer said, his voice grim. "She's in a really bad shape, Sir. Naked, half-dead. We found her in an abandoned house deep in the woods in Oregon. She's covered in thick bruises. Barely breathing," He paused to catch his breath. "We were on our way to a nearby hospital, and a roadblock appeared out of nowhere. If we don't take her to the hospital

"He should be arriving at the station in about ten minutes. After all, what father wouldn't come running when his daughter was arrested?" The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Maya and me staring at each other in stunned silence. In ten minutes, everything we thought we knew about Maya's life was about to change forever. And somewhere in the distance, I could hear the rumble of a powerful engine approaching the station..

Maya. Pregnant.This can't be happening. Despite the warmth of the summer day, an uncomfortable chill settled over Maya’ skin as she settled on the bench in the small garden just a few blocks from the apartment she shared with Alex . She shivered even as the sun’s rays found her tightly clenched fingers, the heat not yet chasing away the goose bumps. Javier wouldn’t be happy over her brief disappearance. Neither would Alex when Javier reported that she hadn’t taken proper security measures. But dragging along the imposing guard to her doctor’s appointment hadn’t been an option. Alex would have known of her pregnancy before she could even return home to tell him herself.

**Maya's POV** As we drove to the hospital, the road felt oddly familiar, a stark reminder of the countless times I had traveled this path for my dad’s charitable donations. This hospital, one of the best in Freta, had become a second home for him, filled with memories of hope and healing. The car came to a stop at the entrance, and a wave of anxiety washed over me. “Christi, you go home and rest. You’ve been up since early today. I’ll send Mom over soon,” I said, squeezing her hand slightly, hoping to reassure her.

She said, unfastening her seatbelt, and stepped out of the passenger seat. She rushed towards the beach while calling Danny continuously, but the latter didn’t take any of her calls. She was about to call again when she received a call from her mother Ramya, who informed what played on the projector at last. “What!!! Is Mishka alright?” Maya asked impatiently. “I don’t know. Where are you?” Her mother asked. “I will be back soon, maa. Do you have any idea which hospital Christian might’ve taken her to?” Maya asked. “Hospital??” A voice came from behind and Maya turned, only to find Danny with a beer can in his hand.

She sat down. Benson stood at the controls. His hands were shaking. He looked at Maya. She looked so small in that giant, metal chair. She looked like the girl he had met in Nigeria, the one who wanted to save the world with medicine. "I love you " Benson whispered. "I know " Maya said. A single tear ran down her face. It was the one she would ever have. "Now turn the key." Benson pushed the Silver Pen into the machine. Pulled the handle.

One storm. "Maya."

No intensity. Do not tell: check, check, check. On her way home, Maya takes a different route through the city. Habit now. Route variation. Surveillance check. Also, the main road is clogged with roadworks and a billboard advertising luxury apartments called The Haven, because irony apparently has a marketing department. She passes the old municipal records building near the canal. And slows.