Page 55 of Joker's Ghost
I’m timing them on my watch—they are now less than oneminute apart. Before the next contraction, I yank open the bottom drawer of the cabinet and pull out the kitchen towels. I lay them under me, and when the next contraction hits, I focus on my body, draw up my legs and anchor my hands behind my knees.
I concentrate on my breathing, zoning out everything around me until I hear heavy footsteps on the stairs then a thunder of male voices.
“Fuck!” Joker’s deep rumble surrounds me as he barrels into the kitchen, followed by Cobra and the other Serpents.
They stop short at the guy lying on the floor.
“Holy shit!” Cobra examines the Nomad. “Who the fuck is that?”
Joker pulls the bandana off his face. “That’s the same one who’s been spooking me.” He shoots a look at Mamba. “The guy who’s supposed to be dead.”
Mamba leans in for a closer look. “Hewasdead.”
Joker falls to his knees beside me and grabs my hand. “Baby, I’m here.”
“Our little person just decided to come a little early,” I wheeze out, then squeeze his hand hard.
My abdomen rolls and convulses on its own. I desperately do my breathing, but it’s no match for the force of nature and the overwhelming need to push. I twist my body and lean up on my elbows, unable to halt the process as my body shudders and shakes.
More footsteps on the stairs. “That’s probably the paramedics.”
“Get that fucker outta here,” Cobra orders, and Mamba and Rattler drag the Nomad into the other room and out of sight.
Two seconds later, two paramedics barge past the Serpents crowding the door. One kneels on the other side of me and opens his medical bag. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Daisy,” I huff out.
“And how far along are you?”
“I’m thirty-four weeks.”
“And how old are you and do you have any underlying medical conditions. Diabetes, high blood pressure?”
Another contraction hits and Joker answers for me. “She’s thirty-two. No diabetes or high blood pressure.”
“Okay, everything’s going to be fine, but we need to examine you.” They snap on surgical gloves, and the other paramedic waves his hand at the Serpents. “Everyone out of the kitchen except the father.”
The Serpents look to Joker, and when he nods, they all file into the living room.
“I’m going to examine you now.” The paramedic says to me, then I feel the pressure of his hands.
“She’s got six weeks left,” Joker tells the paramedic.
Ignoring Joker, the paramedic continues the examination then locks eyes with me. “You’re fully dilated, and the baby’s head has crowned. You’ll never make it to the hospital.”
Joker grabs the paramedic’s arm. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means we’re going to make her as comfortable as possible, then she’s going to have her baby right here.”
“Can you do that?” Joker demands.
“We’re trained to deliver babies, sir, and doing it here is safer than trying to transport her this far along.”
Joker narrows his eyes. “You better be right.”
The paramedic is unfazed by Joker’s warning as he nudges him out of the way and wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm.
A flurry of activity surrounds me as the paramedics exchange words and phrases I don’t understand, preparing for our baby’s birth.
