A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(20)

“Women have been giving birth since the start of time,” Vera stated seriously. “Doctors cause complications. They only want to give drugs or cut the women open to speed up the birth, and hospitals are full of nasty bacteria.” She nodded at Cindy. “Birth is painful; it’s our legacy of being women. With some fresh air and plenty of clean water, she’ll do just fine.”

Mercy’s mother was a midwife, and Vera was right about one thing: plenty of labors went fine. The childbirths that weren’t fine were the problem. Her mother knew when a hospital and obstetrician were needed for safety.

If they called on Mercy when Cindy went into labor, her automatic answer would be, “Ambulance. Now.”

“You need to go help with lunch,” Vera instructed the pregnant woman. “Get moving now, and I won’t give you a strike.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Cindy dipped her head at Vera. “And welcome to your new home, Jessica.” Cindy walked gingerly as she left the room, and Rose’s complaints of aching feet echoed in Mercy’s memory.

“It’d be helpful to know when she’s due,” Mercy said tentatively. “A doctor—”

“Isn’t needed,” finished Vera. “She’s a strong, healthy woman. Now drop your stuff, and I’ll show you the rest of the camp.”

Mercy set her belongings on the mattress, refusing to look closer at the stains and wondering if other women had given birth at the camp. “Do you have a room with some medical equipment?”

“Bandages and first aid things are in the supply depot. You just ask for what you need.”

“I’d like to see what medical supplies you have. Maybe take an inventory.”

“No, you can’t do that. No one accesses the supply depot but the quartermaster. We can’t have people grabbing what they want willy-nilly. You can make a request and they’ll pull it for you. There’s no cost for the supplies. We believe in giving our people the necessities—clothes, toiletries, food.”

“That’s amazing.” Vera’s worn-out clothing indicated differently.

“But it has to be a sincere need,” Vera clarified. “You can’t requisition new boots because yours developed a hole. Patch it. Figure it out yourself before you burden others with your demands. There’s no room for selfishness here. We reuse everything until it falls apart and is beyond repair. For example, a ripped and worn-out shirt can be cut up and made into other articles of clothing.”

“That’s how I was raised,” Mercy said quietly, thinking of her prepper upbringing. “My parents lived off the land. We relied on no one for anything. It was important that we were self-sufficient.”

“You were raised right,” Vera said in a pleased tone. “Don’t see a lot of that anymore.”

“People think everything is disposable these days. What else do you supply?” Mercy asked respectfully. “There were items that even my parents had to purchase. Cooking equipment, certain spices, automotive parts, some medications.”

Vera snorted. “Spices? Totally unnecessary. I already told you our policy on medications, so of course we don’t supply those.”

“Not even Advil or Tylenol?”

“A little pain never hurt anyone.”

“What about treating fevers?”

“Fevers just need to run their course. The human body is made to battle such things.” She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, her intense stare looking Mercy up and down. “I don’t know if you’re the right person to handle our medical issues. We do things differently here. I’ll have to talk to Pete about it.” She gestured for Mercy to follow her out of the bunk room. “I’ll show you where to get lunch.”

Anger flashed in Mercy’s vision. Stone Age medical care.

A split second before Mercy stepped out of the room, something moved in a dark corner, and a slim, blonde figure darted behind a bunk, leaving Mercy with an impression of wide blue eyes in a young face.

Someone avoiding duty?

With only eleven women on-site, no doubt it’d be obvious who hadn’t shown up for her work. Mercy kept her mouth shut.

Becoming a rat wasn’t a good way to make a first impression.

Or maybe it was in America’s Preserve.





EIGHT

For the number of people in the mess hall, it was oddly quiet. Scents of coffee and baking bread assaulted Mercy as she stepped in the door, and her stomach growled. Most of the people sitting at the dozen long tables glanced up to see who had entered. The curious stares created a physical sensation that poked Mercy in the gut and weighed on her shoulders. She felt as if a dozen targets were spread across her body, and she fought a desire to glare down some of the stares.

Jessica is a sweet woman.

Instead Mercy gave tentative smiles and avoided direct eye contact. She followed Vera toward the short line of men at the rear of the hall, where residents waited for their food. Lunch was served cafeteria style. Women behind a counter scooped food onto plates as people patiently waited with trays. She spotted Chad in line and tension drained from her body, surprising her with its sudden relief.

This morning has been rather stressful.

Vera stopped at the end of the line, but Mercy passed her by and tapped Chad’s arm. He turned, and his eyes lit up as he spotted her.