He was in serious trouble, and he was intelligent enough to know it.
The elderly couple stepped over the unconscious agent. Each took an ankle. It was an effort for them, but they were able to drag him away from Sabra, giving Doc and Tiel more room in which to function.
"They're going to lock me up forever," Ronnie continued.
"But I want Sabra to be safe. I want her old man's promise that he'll let her keep our baby."
"Then let's end this here and now."
"I can't, Doc. Not before getting that guarantee from Mr. Dendy."
Doc motioned down to Sabra, who was panting through another pain with Tiel. "In the meantime-"
"We stay right here," the boy insisted.
"But she needs a-"
"Doc?" Tiel said, interrupting.
"-hospital. And soon. If you're truly worried about Sabra's welfare-"
"Doc?"
Irritated because she had twice interrupted his earnest appeal, he turned to her abruptly and asked impatiently,
"What?"
"Sabra can't go anywhere. I can see the baby."
He knelt down between Sabra's raised knees. "Thank God," he said on a relieved laugh. "The baby's turned, Sabra. I can see the head. You're crowning. A few minutes from now you'll have a baby."
The girl laughed, sounding too young to be in the jam she was in. "Is it going to be all right?"
"I think so." Doc looked at Tiel. "You'll help?"
"Tell me what to do."
"Get a few more of those pads and spread them around her. Have one of the towels handy to wrap the baby in."
He had rolled up his shirtsleeves above the elbows and was vigorously washing his hands and arms with Tiel's bottled cleanser. He then bathed them with vinegar. He passed the bottles to Tiel. "Use both liberally. But quickly."
"I don't want Ronnie watching," Sabra said.
"Sabra? Why not?"
"I mean it, Ronnie. Go away."
Doc spoke to him over his shoulder. "It might be best, Ronnie." Reluctantly the boy backed away.
In Cain's doctor's kit, Doc found a pair of gloves and pulled them on-expertly, Tiel noticed. He snapped them smartly around his wrists. "At least he did something right," he muttered. "There's a whole box of them. Get yourself a pair."
She had just managed to get the gloves on when Sabra had another contraction. "Don't bear down if you can keep from it," Doc instructed. "I don't want you to tear."
He placed his right hand on the perineum for additional support to avoid tearing, while his left hand gently rested on the baby's head. "Come on, Sabra. Pant now. Thata girl. You might move behind her," he said to Tiel. "Angle her up. Support her lower back."
He coached Sabra through the pain, and when it was over, she relaxed against Tiel's support.
"Almost there, Sabra," Doc told her in a gentle voice.