Page 62 of Redemption
I force myself to remain calm as I turn to the man in charge of this entire community.
David.
I certainly didn’t expect to meet the guy in the middle of a cornfield, but if my disguise works and he allows me to remain amongst the citizens of this town—and use some reconnaissance to find who I came for—I’ll take what I can get. Thankfully, I don’t see an ounce of recognition in his gaze as I take his outstretched hand and give it a firm shake.
He pulls on our linked hands and leans forward a little, staring at me for a few seconds longer than I’m comfortable with. “No whites. That’s a good thing, son.”
Ah, he’s looking to see if I’m transitioning into a zombie. Fair enough.
“You know, it’s proper etiquette to reciprocate with a name when a gentleman offers you his. It’s only polite, you understand?” His deep accent surrounds us as he waits for my response with anticipation.
Thankfully, I prepared for this, knowing I’d need to make up a name just in case they heard mine being said while they were trailing us. I couldn’t use anything too flashy or rare that would cause skepticism, but I also couldn’t consider myself boring enough to be calledBillorKevin. “Casey,” I reply.
Inspiration for the name struck when I was wandering the house I slept in last night. It had a room with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles poster on the back wall. I loved the show as a kid but, as I was searching for a decent name change, I couldn’t rely on 90’s cartoons for inspiration. Raphael? Donatello? It might have worked for DiCaprio, but definitely not for a common bastard such as myself. But then, there was the name of one of the first heroes I had been introduced to at the ripe old age of six. Casey Jones.
It definitely did the trick, as David paid no mind to the fake name and nodded his approval. “Well, Casey, why don’twe take you on over to the Infirmary and get you looked over? Then, maybe after, we can look into getting you something to eat. I’m sure you’re starving. And, by the looks of you, you could probably use a nice bath as well. What do you say?”
I nod, going right along with what he thought was his idea but was actually my plan coming to fruition. If they had an infirmary, there were patients. And if there were patients, there was the potential for drugs and gossip. I could use both. “Sounds great, thank you.”
He smiled at my gratitude, the appreciation going right to his egotistical head. “But of course! That’s what we do here, Casey. We take in the refugees, the lost souls, the wandering hearts and give them purpose again within the safe confines of our sacred community. Hopefully, we can do the same for you and find you a purpose besides running from your troubles.”
But then the screams start again, reminding us both of the poor soul still inside the barn.
“Did I hear you say you held a medical occupation before The Fall?” David asks, turning an inquisitive eye back on me.
I nod in return. “Yes, sir. I did.”
David lifts his open hands and his gaze to the sky. “He has a plan indeed. Follow me, son.” Then, with a determined, hurried step, he brushes past me, heading straight for the barn as I trail behind him. Without any hesitation this time, the guard takes one look at David and turns, letting us in through the door.
Candlelit darkness envelops us as we enter the building, a long hallway ushering us into the space. The smell of hay lingers in the air, but I can’t seem to find any as we walk through the maze of winding corridors and newly constructed walls. It’s not like the interior of any barn I’ve ever seen. Instead of a wide-open floor plan, it’s sectioned off into rooms.
Dozens of rooms.
Following the hallway with David leading the way, we stop at the open door at the end, a woman screaming her head off just inside. “Ahh, it’s Lily,” he says adoringly, keeping his eyes on the woman as he continues. “Praise the heavens, it is a good day.” He raises his hands in worship, allowing me to get a look at what’s going on, my medical background forcing my curiosity.
Looking at the room, you wouldn’t think we were in the belly of a barn. Unlike the hallway, it’s clean and lit up by numerous skylights embedded in the ceiling, and a twin bed is positioned in the center, along with various cupboards and shelves filled with medical supplies. The woman, Lily, is lying on her back on the bed, with two men on either side of her holding her thighs apart while another stands between her legs at the foot. She’s in labor but obviously has no access to an epidural and no intravenous painkillers. There’s not even a proper hospital bed with heart monitors. They’re doing this blind and without pharmaceutical help. Just like they did before modern medicine.
Which is pretty much where we’re back to, nowadays.
“Alright, Lily, you’re almost there. Give me one more good push.” She nods and does so, bearing down with all her might. It’s always impressed me, the strength of a woman. The pain of childbirth is indescribable; the toll it takes on the female body is traumatic, absolute agony, and yet, behind all the sweat, tears, blood, and stress, all I see is strength.
Women are miraculous creatures.
Lily continues to push as the man at the base of the bed encourages her. After a few more rounds of contractions, she pushes one last time, and then...
“Wonderful. Perfect, absolutely perfect, Lily. A beautiful baby girl. You’ve done so well.” The two men at her sides praise her work, smiles covering their faces as they wipe the sweat from Lily’s weary face, but the third looks grim as he swiftly cuts the cord and lifts the newborn into the air and over to another bed.
The baby’s grey.
Unmoving.
Not breathing.
I turn back to the mom... and now... neither is she.
“Fuck... I need someone to start CPR on her! NOW!” the man tending to the newborn calls out as he sees what I do. She’s bleeding out, her life force pouring down her thighs and onto the floor. I can see the color draining from her face, turning a pale bluish grey right in front of my eyes.
Unable to keep away, I push past David and into the room. “Soap? Sanitizer? Gloves?!” I call out.
