Chapter 7: Chapter 7

“Ever think about how they seal these buildings? And if they don’t do it right, is the air really that toxic?” I ask the girls gathered in my room.

The air is thick with humidity. Outside, rain is pounding against the concrete wall of the nursery.

Beth is sitting next to me, her baby due in just a few weeks. Ever since my belly started to show, we’ve been in a friendly competition to see who can grow the biggest baby. So far, she’s in the lead.

Across from us are Allison and Kelly, both in their second trimesters, and Stephanie, a familiar face from a year ahead of us in school. They all give me a strange look.

“What are you talking about?” Allison asks.

“The air outside is toxic. Everyone knows that,” Stephanie says, sounding like she knows it all.

“But why would it be toxic? We’re not dropping nuclear bombs anymore. No one has for the last hundred years. Shouldn’t the toxicity be gone by now? Do these walls block radiation?”

“I don’t think so.” Beth lets out a breath, raising her eyebrows at me. She shifts uncomfortably, adjusting her belly.

“I think the radioactivity sticks around for a long time,” Allison says, sounding dismissive. “Or the Master would have us all outside farming fields.”

“Sometimes I think the earth is covered in ashes just because we put it there, you know?” I say. “Like it doesn’t have to be.”

“You think too much,” Stephanie tells me. Beth chuckles softly.

“Nothing grows out there, Alex,” Kelly says. “There’s no life out there. So it must be toxic.”

“But why not? Why hasn’t anything grown back over the years?” I ask.

I see Beth purse her lips. She’s been doing that a lot lately and sighing. My curiosity has been growing each day, my questions becoming more frequent and harder to answer. And she’s tired of it, I can tell.

She doesn’t like questions. She likes facts, being sure of things. The more questions I ask, the more ignorant I feel and the more stupid she feels.

I didn’t used to ask so many questions. We used to gossip more, play tricks on the teachers, and compete fiercely in sports and the workshop, but we don’t have that luxury anymore.

Our days are now filled with eating, sleeping, and gossiping. With all the free time I’ve had, I’ve started to question every part of my life. Mostly to myself, but sometimes I share with Beth.

Beth says my curiosity and questions are just because of the hormonal changes from my pregnancy. But she’s a smart girl, and she knows that’s not the real reason.

I haven’t told her about my night with Eric. She knows I’m keeping something from her, and it frustrates her. But I can’t bring myself to talk about it. I’m almost embarrassed, but I don’t know why.

“Alex—” Beth starts, but I cut her off, too lost in my thoughts to be pulled away.

“There is life elsewhere,” I insist. “And the only reason nothing grows is that the earth is constantly covered in ashes because everything keeps exploding and burning. I can’t believe there is only life inside sealed buildings.”

Beth frowns at me. “But that’s how it is. Life is created by us inside sealed doors. That’s how it works.”

“But it didn’t always work like this.”

“But this is the only way it works now! This is life!” Beth shifts beside me, rubbing her swollen belly with a small frown.

“But not everywhere! This can’t be everywhere,” I insist.

“Alex, what more are you looking for?” Stephanie snaps at me.

We all stare at her, wide-eyed. I purse my lips and tuck my hair behind my ears. “Do you think we’re free?” I whisper. The girls blink back at me.

“What?” Stephanie leans toward me, her face twisted in a scowl.

“You heard me,” I snap back.

“No, I need you to repeat,” she says, glaring at me. “Because what I thought I heard is such ridiculous nonsense that—”

Stephanie is cut off by Beth’s gasp of pain. She clutches her belly and moans.

“Beth? Are you okay?” Allison asks.

“Beth?”

She shakes her head. “It hurts,” she gasps, her face contorted in pain.

“But you’re not due for a month at least,” Kelly says.

“I don’t know. It hurts so much. I—ah!” Beth gasps again in pain, and tears start to roll down her cheeks.

“Beth!” I reach out and grab her hand. “Get a nurse. Now!” I order the other girls, and they run off.

Beth looks at me, her eyes wide and scared. She pants and squeezes my hand. “What’s happening to me, Alex?” she gasps.

“How long have you been hurting?”

“The pain started a few days ago, but I didn’t think it was important,” she says, breathing heavily. “Alex, this contraction isn’t ending!”

“Don’t worry!” I tell her, taking her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “Don’t worry, Beth. There’s no need to worry. A nurse is on her way, and everything—everything—is going to be okay!” I say firmly.

“I’m going to die!” she moans at me, then screams again in pain.

“No, you’re not!”

“I think so,” she whispers. Her eyes are wide, and I can tell she’s terrified. I squeeze her hand tightly.

“Beth, listen to me,” I say, speaking to her calmly. “You’re not going to die. You’re just having your baby early. It’s okay. You’re already eight months pregnant. Nothing is wrong.”

She gives me a nod, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “Alex,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Promise me you won’t let them label me as a Defective. Promise me you’ll protect my baby.”

“Beth, stop talking like that!” I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re going to be okay. You’re a Perfect, not a Defective!”

She closes her eyes tightly, tears streaming down her face. She gasps in pain and looks up at me. “I feel like I’m dying,” she whispers.

“No, Beth, you have to—”

Her scream cuts me off. It’s a sound that sends chills down my spine. She writhes in pain on the bed, and I can only watch in horror as her blood stains my sheets.

“Beth! Beth!” I call out to her, my voice echoing in the room.

Her face is wet with tears, and she looks at me for a brief moment before another scream escapes her lips. She doubles over in pain, and I hold her hand, trying to help her sit up so she can breathe easier.

“Tell me where it hurts,” I say, my mind racing back to our biology classes.

She grips my hand tightly, panting heavily. “Oh, Alex.” Her head rolls from side to side, and she bites her lip so hard that she draws blood.

“Beth, you need to breathe!” I tell her, trying to be heard over her moans.

She shakes her head, then screams again, collapsing onto the bed. Her blood is everywhere. I lift her blood-soaked skirts up to her waist, trying not to look at the shape that’s pushing its way out of her.

“Your baby is coming, Beth,” I tell her, moving back to her head.

She screams again, her body arching off the bed, her blood flowing freely. The door bursts open, and two nurses, Georgia and Libby, rush in with towels and blankets.

“She’s having her baby,” I tell them quickly.

They move past me and see the baby’s head, half out. Beth lies panting on my bed, her face covered in sweat and tears. Her hands, covered in blood, hover over her swollen stomach.

“The baby’s very young, but it might be saved,” Nurse Libby says quietly.

“We have to perform a cesarean,” Nurse Georgia agrees.

“There’s probably no time to move her to the birthing room now,” I say. “Can you do it here?”

Beth screams again suddenly. “What’s wrong? Why is she hurting so much?” I ask, gripping her hand even tighter.

She’s practically swimming in her own blood now. It’s soaking into my sheets, turning them a dark red. Her face is ashen, and her eyes roll back into her head. My heart pounds in my chest.

“Beth!” I cry out, shaking her hand. “Beth! Save her! Do something! Get that baby out of her and save her!” I yell at the nurses. “What is wrong with her?”

“It must be placental abruption,” Nurse Libby murmurs, her eyes wide.

“That’s impossible. She’s Perfect,” Nurse Georgia replies quickly.

“I don’t care if she’s a Perfect or not! She’s dying, so save her!” I scream at them.

“Alexandra, perhaps you should leave. You seem a—”

“No! I’m not leaving her! What can be done? I know she’s not supposed to lose all this blood!”

“Placental abruption is when the placenta tears away from the uterus instead of separating the way it’s supposed to. She’s lost too much blood. Perhaps we can save the child though.”

“Save them both!” I growl. “And now!”

The nurses give me a pointed look. Beth screams again. “It’s too late for a cesarean, and she’ll just lose more blood,” Nurse Georgia says. “She has to birth the child naturally.”

“Push, Beth! Push!” I yell at her, shaking her pale hand. Her head lolls around, and she screams. “What can I do? What can I do for her?” I ask the nurses.

Their faces are set in grim lines. I know what they’re thinking: Beth has no chance of survival but the baby might, so why am I wasting my energy on Beth?

“Good, she’s pushing,” Nurse Libby says, ignoring my question.

“Keep pushing! Just keep pushing!” I shout, watching in horror as more blood gushes out. “She’s losing too much blood!” I scream.

“There’s nothing we can do about that now, Alexandra!” Nurse Georgia snaps at me. “Push, Beth!”

“Can she take my blood? We’re all the same blood type!”

“She’d just lose it too fast,” Nurse Libby answers quickly.

“You can do it, Beth!” I yell at Beth. Her blood drips off the bed and onto the floor. I try not to notice.

“The child will probably be stillborn,” Nurse Libby says.

“Shut up!” I snap at her. “Beth, you’re having a Perfect child. Just keep pushing!”

Beth screams again. She looks at me with wide eyes. “Alex, I’m so scared,” she whispers.

“Don’t be. We’re getting this child out of you, and it’ll be a fine Perfect and serve Albion as best as it possibly can! Just keep pushing! You can do it, Beth, I know you can! I know you can!”

She moans and closes her eyes, biting down on her already bloody lip.

“Alexandra, she’s lost too much blood,” Nurse Georgia tells me quietly.

I stare at her in horror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s dying.”

“No!” I turn back to Beth. “Push, Beth, push! Faster! Faster! Get it out, and they can save you!”

“Alexandra!” Nurse Georgia’s hand clamps down on my arm. “If she keeps pushing, she’ll bleed out and die. We can extract the baby and maybe save her, or she can keep pushing and we can save the baby.”

I look at her, my eyes wide with fear. “She’s already lost so much blood.”

“Her chances of survival are less than the baby’s,” Nurse Georgia says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I turn back to Beth, lying on my bed, her skin as pale as the gray sheets and covered in blood. “Beth.”

“Alexandra, we know what we have to do.”

“Save the baby,” I say, my voice shaking. Tears start to roll down my cheeks. “You said the baby has a better chance. Save the baby,” I whisper.

Nurse Georgia nods and goes back to Beth. I rush to hold Beth’s hand again. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and scared.

“Alex?”

“Don’t worry. We’re getting the baby out, we’re going to save it. Then we’re going to save you,” I say, my gaze fixed on Nurse Georgia.

“We’ll do our best,” she promises, her voice barely audible.

“Push now, Beth. The baby’s almost out,” I tell her. She grips my hand tightly and lets out a gasp of pain.

“Almost there, almost!” Nurse Libby yells. “Push now. Push, Beth!”

Beth screams, and her baby comes out in a rush of blood. The baby’s first cries mingle with Beth’s wail of pain. Then Beth goes limp on my bed.

Nurse Georgia takes the baby, wrapping it gently in a blanket and wiping the blood from its face.

“Beth needs blood now,” I tell Nurse Libby.

“She’s lost too much, Alexandra,” she says. “You have to accept it. It’s too late. We saved the baby.”

“But you have to try! Please try to save her! Take my blood!”

“Beth is a Defective. She had a placental abruption. It would be kinder to let her die here, before she’s officially declared Defective.”

Nurse Libby sighs as I stare at her, my eyes wide with shock. “She’s not Defective! She’s a Perfect!”

“No, she won’t be able to have more children. It’s a waste of resources to save her. She’s going to die either way.”

“How can you say that? She’s a Perfect. We need to save her! She’s my friend!”

“She’s Defective now, Alexandra.”

“She doesn’t deserve to die! Save her!”

“She has to accept her status as a Defective. And so do you, Alex.”

“Give her a chance!” I shout, my voice filled with desperation.

“Alexandra! We can’t afford to have Defectives in this nursery!” Nurse Georgia says.

I look at her, my eyes wide with shock. “But Beth—she’s still alive! She needs blood, and she’ll recover! She can have more babies! You can’t just let her die!”

“She’s a Defective, Alex!”

I gasp as Stephanie’s voice cuts through the room. I turn to see most of the girls standing in the doorway, watching.

“She’s a Defective. She doesn’t deserve to live. She can’t have more babies, so she’s useless! There’s no place for her in our society,” Stephanie says.

I hold Beth’s hand tighter. Her eyes roll around before focusing on me. “Alex,” she gasps.

I squeeze her hand. “A son, Beth, a Perfect son. He’ll grow up to be a great man. Maybe even a Master one day,” I tell her quickly.

She manages a small smile. “But I am a Defective?”

“No, you are a Perfect,” I say.

“But they’re not going to…save me?” she asks, her voice weak.

I look into her brown eyes, tears streaming down my face. “Such a perfect baby boy,” I say again.

She closes her eyes and winces. “I understand,” she says, her breaths coming slower.

Behind me, the nurses leave with Beth’s baby. The other girls start to leave too. A Defective is like a curse, a contagious disease. No one wants to stay in the room with one any longer than necessary.

“I don’t understand,” I say softly. “I’m so sorry, Beth.”

“No,” she moans. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment. “I know…I know you tried to save me.”

“I should have been able to!”

“You did all…you could.”

“But it wasn’t enough, was it? Beth, you’re dying. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m a Defective.”

“No! No, Beth, no, you’re a Perfect,” I insist.

She gives me a small smile. “You care too much, Alex,” she says. “And you think too much.” I shake my head, denying her words. “Promise me?”

“Anything.”

“You won’t…do anything stupid…after I die.” She looks at me, her gaze intense.

My tears fall freely, and I don’t bother to wipe them away. “Nothing stupid. I promise,” I whisper.

“Take care of my son?”

I nod quickly. “Of course I will. I promise I’ll make sure he becomes a Master. He’ll be the smartest boy ever, and he will lead us out of this war.”

Beth smiles faintly. “That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m glad you chose him, Alex,” she says. I look at her, my eyes wide with surprise. “I would have done the same.”

“Beth.”

“I’m relieved he’s alive. I’m ready to die for a Perfect, for my Perfect son.”

I shut my eyes, pressing her hand to my chest. She closes her eyes softly, a smile on her face.

“Beth?”

“I’m still…here.” Her eyes flutter open again. “I’m dying for Albion, aren’t I, Alex?”

“Yes, yes, you are. And you’ll be remembered! I promise.”

She gives a vague nod, her gaze drifting past me to the window. “Maybe, I’ll…rise from the ashes again…someday,” she murmurs.

I shut my eyes, trying to stem the hot tears streaming down my face.

“Alex…don’t cry, sweetheart…don’t cry for a Defective.”

“You’re a Perfect, Beth.”

“No, I’m not.” She grimaces, then lets out a heavy breath.

“You should go now, Alex…I’m not…worth your time…anymore.”

I stare at her, shocked. “I’m staying with you until the end,” I assure her.

She closes her eyes, smiling faintly. “You shouldn’t be…so kind to others…Defectives and Cripples,” she whispers.

“I’ll be kind to whoever I choose to be kind to,” I tell her. “Defective, Cripple, Perfect, what does it all mean? What does our society even matter?”

She shakes her head slightly, a small smile on her face. “You think…too much, Alex,” she says. “Stop questioning…everything… You could get hurt,” she whispers, her breath coming in heavy gasps.

“Beth,” I murmur.

“I always thought…we’d have children…together…and work in our school…together.”

I grip her hand tightly. “Me too.”

“I thought we were going to spend our lives together…I was happy believing that we would never…leave each other. That we would grow old together…be together until we die.”

“You’re lucky,” I tell her quickly.

“Lucky to die?”

“To leave this place. This world.”

“Alex…it’s not that bad.”

“I know. It could be worse,” I smile down at her. I watch as she smiles back, her eyelids fluttering. “Beth, we will be together again. I know it. We will be together forever, just like you thought.”

“Have children for Albion. For me. Will you?”

“Yes, of course, Beth. Your son will never bear your name, but I promise my first daughter won’t take my name. She will be Beth, I promise.”

Beth closes her eyes, a smile on her face. “Thank you, Alex…you’ve always been…by my side.”

“I always will be,” I whisper. Her hand grows heavy in mine, and her eyes stop blinking. “Beth?” I whisper, but she doesn’t respond. She’s as pale as the ash that blankets the world.

She’s a true phoenix now. She’s part of the land. I close my eyes and weep.