Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(24)

She gave a small nod while I silently throttled the steering wheel. Not going any faster because no way was I taking any chances. In the accident when Nell lost her baby, Joe said the car had come out of nowhere. No fucker was catching me unawares tonight. Still, it would be a hell of a relief to see her safely delivered to the hospital. Even in the dim light her face still looked pale and strained. Meanwhile, all of my bravado hid a churning stomach and dry mouth.

“You’ve got your bugout bag, right?” I asked.

“Bugout bag? You mean my stuff for the hospital?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. That.”

“Having a baby is not the end of the world.” Her brows tucked in. A hint of a smile remained, however, so I wasn’t completely in the shit. “Eric, I’d imagine the supplies required to handle an apocalypse would be quite different.”

“Not really,” I said. “I mean, in both cases you’re going to need underwear.”

“How about maternity pads as opposed to matches?”

My smile was a flash of teeth, grabbing hold of anything to lighten the mood. “Sure. But I bet you’ve packed a nice warm blanket.”

“A baby blanket.”

“That’ll do.”

“I’d need to shrink by about half before it would do me any good. And I didn’t pack—” Her words came to an abrupt halt as another grimace crossed her face.

Nearly there, dammit. “What didn’t you pack?”

“A gun.”

“That’s easy,” I said. “Just brain the zombies with a rattle or something.”

“It’s a zombie apocalypse now?”

“Is there any other?”

The sound she made might have been laughter if she hadn’t been in so much pain. God, seeing her like that … we might not have known each other for long, but it still sucked. Why couldn’t men just have the babies? Surely that’d be easier than watching someone you cared about going through this shit.

And the silence only made it worse. “So you’re going to name her Erica, right?”

“Dream on,” said Jean.

“Eric-arella?”

Another of those shaky laughs.

“Eric-ina and that’s my final offer.”

She just looked at me.

“Oh come on,” I said. “That’s a nice name. It just rolls off the tongue.”

“You’re crazy,” she said, breathing heavily.

The hospital sign lit up the night like a beacon. At last. I headed straight for Emergency, crawling around the ice-slick corner. As soon as the hand brake was on, I jumped out and ran around to the passenger side. She’d opened the door and begun the awkward process of climbing out.

“Easy.” I took her elbow, holding her steady while she found her feet.

“You can’t leave the car here. It’s an ambulance spot.”

“I’m not going to,” I assured her. “Don’t worry, Jean. You go in and start getting things moving and I’ll go find a spot.”

“Right.”

“All good?”

Teeth sunk into her bottom lip, she nodded.

“Be right back. Two minutes tops.”

With a hand braced on her lower back, she waddled a couple of steps toward the emergency department’s sliding glass doors. Then stopped.

“Crap,” she mumbled, looking down.

“What’s wrong?” I rushed back over to her and followed the direction of her gaze. Liquid had started pooling around her feet. A cold wind froze me, inside and out. “Tell me you wet yourself.”

“No, I ah … that’s not what happened.”

“Fuck.”

We rushed through the doors. Despite the circumstances, she was moving fine, but I kept one arm loose around her waist, just in case her legs gave way. Inside, a few people occupied chairs in the waiting area, the place largely deserted at this hour. Behind a big reception desk, some admin or nurses or whatever they were busily worked away on computers.

“Help,” I yelled. “Her water’s broke.”

“Eric, calm down.”

“I’m perfectly calm.” I was not even remotely calm. “Somebody help!”

“She’s coming early,” said Jean, as if what was happening were finally hitting home. “Okay. No big deal.”

A middle-aged woman over at reception gave us a patient smile. Obviously completely misunderstanding the situation. Or she was on drugs. I don’t want to be judgey, but it could be either. Jean was about to push out a kid, for god’s sake. Maybe the woman needed some visuals.

“She’s in labor. Are you seeing this?” I pointed first to Jean’s swollen middle, then to the growing puddle on the floor. Still no one started running. “Jesus. Why is she acting like this happens every day?”

“Because it does.”

I just frowned. “Who should I call? Who do you want me to call?”

“Oh…” She paused. “No one. No point involving Nell, given her flu. Besides, I’ve got my plan. I’m okay.”

“Hey, how are you doing?” A young woman in medical scrubs approached us with a smile. “Things are happening, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jean said a little shakily.