Fear (Gone 5)

She had been so hungry. So close to death.

I’ve said I’m sorry, I repented, I begged for forgiveness; what do you want from me? Why won’t you help this baby?

Penny moved closer, careful of her damaged, bloody feet. She leaned down to look at Diana’s straining face.

“She’s praying,” Penny said. Penny laughed. “Should I give her a god to pray to? I can make her see whatever—”

Through a veil of bloody tears Diana saw Penny reel back. Like a marionette she slammed hard, face-first into a wall.

Drake laughed. “Stupid chick. If the gaiaphage wants something, he’ll let you know. Otherwise it’s best not to spend a lot of time down here thinking about how powerful you are. There’s only one god down here, and it’s not Diana’s, and it sure isn’t you, Penny.”

Diana tried to remember what she had read in the pregnancy books. But she’d barely glanced at the sections having to do with birth. Birth was months away, not now!

Contraction. Oh, oh, a hard one. On and on.

Breathe. Breathe.

Another.

“Ahhhh!” she cried out, earning a jeer from Drake. But even as he laughed he was changing. Bright metal wire crossed his exposed teeth.

Hold on, hold on, Diana told herself. Don’t think. Just wait for—

Another contraction, like her guts were being squeezed hard by a gigantic fist.

And then Brittney was there, kneeling between Diana’s legs.

“I see its head. The top of its head.”

“I have to—have to—have to—” Diana gasped. Then, “Push!” she yelled, urging herself on.

A sudden motion. Something very fast. Brittney’s head rolled off her neck. It landed on Diana’s belly and then rolled heavily to one side.

BLAM!

Penny’s left arm took a partial hit. A chunk the size of a small steak was vaporized, leaving a divot in her shoulder, a divot that sprayed blood.

Brianna’s face appeared, looking down at Diana. “We’re out of here!”

“I can’t … can’t … oh, oh, aaaaahhhhhh!”

“You’re doing this right now?” Brianna asked, incredulous and offended. “It has to be right now?”

Diana grabbed Brianna’s shirt in an iron grip. “Save my baby. Forget about me. Save my baby!”

Sam found her, not by sight but by sound. By her weeping and her giggling.

He hung lights, more than one, illuminating a patch the size of a suburban lawn. He saw Astrid, crumpled and unaware.

He saw a skeleton just a dozen feet away, still seething with zekes.

Sam sat down wordlessly beside Astrid. He put his arm around her shoulder.

At first it was as if he wasn’t there. Like she didn’t notice him. Then, with a sudden, loud sob, she buried her face in his neck.

The tenor of her sounds changed. The wild flights of giggling stopped. So did the keening, heartbroken wail. Now she just cried.

Sam sat there perfectly still, saying nothing, and let her tears run down his neck.