Folsom (End of Men, #1)(73)

And then—“Gwen, we’re going to need you to push, darling. Can you do that for me?”

I open my eyes and stare into my mother’s face. She nods at me encouragingly. I let them lift my legs, a nurse on each side, and push them back up toward my body.

“Push, Gwen, push,” Mother instructs.

I push with all my might, the pain so intense I think I’m going to pass out. I scream as I push and the nurses coo their encouragement. When I think I can’t go on for a second longer, I feel a rush of something warm between my legs, and then a piercing wail. The doctor snips his cord, the cord that has connected my body to his for thirty-nine weeks. We are no longer two souls inhabiting one body. I weep for both the separation and the miracle that she lays on my chest. I hold his slimy, purple body to my own, barely able to keep my head up I’m so tired. Everyone’s eyes are on my son; they all stare in wonder.

“The Red Boy,” I hear someone say. And I hold him tighter because he’s not the red boy, he’s my boy—mine and Folsom’s.

“What’s his name, Gwen?” my mother asks. When I open my eyes, I see that hers are glossy with tears. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about a name. I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Rebel.”

Mother flushes with anger, but one of the nurse’s eyes widen.

“I’ll let the Regions know that their Rebel is born,” she says.

I nod, and they take him from me to be cleaned and weighed and swaddled.

Rebel Donahue’s birth is celebrated throughout all twelve Regions, but mostly in the Red Region. The media has run his name and are calling him The Red Rebel, remarking on the fact that his father is still missing. They spend equal time speculating about whether I’m sending Folsom messages through the name of his new son, and where Folsom is.

I am.

I’m sending them all a message.

I spend three days holding my son, touching his velvety skin and staring into his tiny face. It’s his feet that get me the most: perfect, and wrinkled, and miniature. Who knew feet could be so beautiful? I feed him and rock him in my arms, barely able to stand being apart from him even if it’s a few minutes.

My mother comes to visit us, her eyes drawn and downcast. We are not the same. Something changed between us when I stopped being the “good daughter.” When you question the world your parents set up for you, it changes the relationship, it makes them question themselves, and then no one knows where they stand anymore. She holds Rebel for a few minutes, staring down at him like she’s trying to figure out all six pounds of him. How could a baby cause so many problems? She’s thinking about my sister, we all are. News of her helping the rebellion and smuggling Folsom and Laticus out of the Region has shaken the entire country. No one knows if they’re even alive. It’s taken the focus off of me, but I know that won’t last.

I can’t get them off of my mind. I don’t know where they are or if Sophia’s given birth to my niece. It tears me up inside knowing that she is without her family. She sacrificed herself for both me and Folsom and all that time I was questioning whether or not she even loved me. Folsom is with her, I tell myself. He will take care of all of them.

My heart hurts when I think of Laticus. In the hours of staring at my baby and being so grateful he is healthy, I pray for Laticus to be okay. He’s young. He will survive this, I console myself.

When I close my eyes, I can still feel Folsom’s lips on mine. The scruff on his face grazing my cheeks as he kissed me over and over, the way “I’m in love with you” sounded when he said it. And now he’s just gone, and I’m aching inside. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see him again; his absence feels like the drag of a match that will never ignite.

One of the nurses I know tells me that they can’t arrest me for kidnapping or arson since there was no evidence. Her aunt works in the governor’s office.

“They’re saying you’re a traitor to the Regions. That you’re disturbing the peace and inciting riots.”

“They can’t arrest me for that,” I say.

“Freedom of speech isn’t what it used to be, Gwen. There are limits to what is tolerated. The governor is trying to get something to stick. She wants you punished.”

I’ve not told them anything about who took us, just that we were kept in a basement and fed three times a day. The story is that the rebels in the Black Region retaliated against the Red by trying to take both of us.

After three days I’m told we’re to be released. My mother arrives to pick us up. An emotionless statue, she stands near the door holding Rebel while I pack up the last of our things. She is unusually quiet. When I turn around, the bag slung over my shoulder to tell her I’m ready, she’s not there. I blink around the room in shock, and then I run for the door. I fling it open and it hits the wall with a heavy thud as I run down the corridor barefoot. My feet slap at the floor. I can hear the roar of my heart in my ears. She took him to the car to get him strapped into his seat, I tell myself. That’s all. I’d laugh about this later, think about what an overprotective mother I am. I turn a corner, heading for the front of the building. It’s a Saturday. Genome Y is mostly empty. I can see them, oh God, I can see them. Just up ahead on the other side of dome three. I hit the button to open the door. It doesn’t move. I hit it again. My mother hasn’t seen me yet. Rebel is asleep in her arms. He’s okay, he’s okay, I tell myself over and over. I wave my arms and she catches sight of me, but instead of walking over to open the door, she turns her back. I pound on the door with my fists and then I stop. Three people are walking down the corridor toward her, too far for me to make out who they are at first. When they move closer, I’m frozen. I don’t move a limb. The governor, a woman in uniform—police—and Langley. The three of them have an exchange that lasts no more than a few seconds, then they all look over their shoulders at me, and the uniform nods. My mother very gently hands the baby to Langley. I begin to sob, my knees threatening to buckle. I hold myself up. I will not fall. I have to get to my son. He’s right there, I just need to get to him. Langley looks at my baby, a smile pressed to her lips. Then her gaze lifts and she looks right at me, right into my eyes before turning on her heel and walking toward the door. My mother follows her out, and they disappear into a sharp burst of light as the front entrance opens for them. I’m screaming, I can’t feel my fists as they pound on the glass, I can’t feel anything but an all-encompassing panic. And then the governor and the officer are on my side of the glass. I try to push past them, but the officer grabs my arms and pulls them behind my back. I don’t feel the pain. I struggle against her, kicking and heaving. The governor presses a button on the wall and an alarm sounds. People run into the room, people I used to work with. I look for Corinne, but she’s nowhere to be found. They grab my arms. I feel a sharp prick in my neck and suddenly I don’t have the energy to fight anymore. My limbs go limp, my head swims, the governor blurs in and out of my vision.