Afterbirth by Belinda Frisch Read Free Book Online Page A

Faint, bloody cast-off speckled his glasses and he moved with the stiffness of an ax-wielding murderer.
    She knew, in her heart, he was anything but.
    “I am sorry,” Foster said, not for the first time. He reached out to hold her and she backed away, crossing her arms over her chest. “If there were any other way…” His eyes welled up with tears.
    A long silence passed between them. She could sense his genuine remorse, but had to blame him to keep from blaming herself.
    “They’re in a better place,” she said. “God looks after His own.”
    She needed to believe it if she was ever going to forgive him.

CHAPTER 11
     
    The remains of the Nixon Center sent chills through Carlene as she staggered through the cluttered parking lot, holding her swollen stomach. Blood-stained gurneys stood as proof of the emergency site she had hoped was still running now that she was ready to deliver. Black liquid soaked her delicate pink dress, staining it in a monochromatic watercolor pattern. Another contraction came and she clenched her teeth, trying not to scream. Noise drew hordes, a fact that those who managed to survive The Collapse quickly learned. Her knees buckled, she grabbed the hood of an abandoned car, and waited for it to pass.
    She hadn’t seen another living soul in months, though time wasn’t a thing exactly kept track of. Kurt, her father, had gone missing after a supply run, and though she presumed the worst, she waited for him as long as she could. Holed up on her small, ranch house, she watched the world fall apart, keeping company with the infant growing inside of her. The days passed, each growing closer to an uncertain deadline when being alone was no longer an option.
    Deciding to go back to the Nixon Center after being forcibly impregnated and held captive there hadn’t been easy. Looking up at the mutilated bodies swinging from the lights, she knew she’d made a mistake.
    “Keep out.”
    The message was clear, but she had no choice.
    She closed in on the burnt-out entrance and covered her mouth and nose. Her lungs protested, forcing out the dirty air with a deep coughing fit that expelled her water in bursts.
    Fragments of pulverized bone crunched under the soles of her canvas sneakers and mixed with the dark fluid to form a grim, human mud. Mold grew on the walls, and what the fire hadn’t destroyed, water and weather had. The power was out and the elevator shaft had been propped open. An aluminum ladder peeked out at the top and a series of footprints stamped in the grey dust said someone had been, or was still there. She didn’t know whether to follow them or run away.
    A sharp, gnawing pain radiated through her stomach and she knew leaving wasn’t a choice.  She dropped to her hands and knees and lowered herself until her forehead was nearly touching the floor. The burned smell intensified as she drew the deep, calming breaths she’d read about in her motherhood books. The mud stuck to her bare knees and scraped them as she crawled slowly forward.
    “Help me,” she said, holding onto the hope that someone might be there to do so. “Can anyone hear me?” Tears rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the beads of sweat formed by intense, unrelenting pain. “ Please .”
    The pressure inside her increased her urge to push. She refused to give birth surrounded by the charred and dismembered dead.
    “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”
    Another sharp pain came, this time lasting longer and forcing a scream from her that echoed throughout the decimated facility. She wept as the baby moved frantically inside of her. Something was wrong. Nothing felt like the books had described. She rolled onto her side, her dark brown hair clinging to her moist cheek, and reached between her legs. The need to push was so strong now that she was certain she’d feel the baby’s head. She pulled her hand away and found her palm covered in blood.
    “Somebody, anyone, help.”
    She reached up, turned the doorknob to a