Chapter 11: Helene

Chapter 11

Helene

It's not so bad here. There's a lot here so it might have been worth the journey. I sit down and begin to fiddle with the sleeve of my cardigan. I can feel the baby kick; for the first time in weeks but finally, I can feel it. I had been so scared considering the amount of children I have lost. Lucas and I have lost. If Sam had not reassured me, I think I would have lost my mind.

“You okay? You need some water or...water?”

“No thank you Dan. You might want to make yourself useful by looking around,” I say, glancing up at him. He is undeniably handsome. The amount of fights Lucas and Dan got into because of me. I was only young; I was irresistible to both of them. They wanted to be the knights in shining arm to some poor child and I just happened to be the firsts one they could find who didn't protest. I didn't know enough English to protest.

I still wonder whether I made the right choice.

Yes, I think I did.

I hope I did.

Dan nods and marauders over to one of the boarded up shops and begins to pull the shutter up. I avert my gaze from him; I love my husband. I love him. I owe him my life. He can never find out about this baby.

I stare at Elektra and Jason. Such a united front. There have only been with us a day and yet, I feel, the dynamic of the group has changed. Lucas had given up on ever finding her. He had mindlessly despised her, blamed her, for the tragedy that had followed her abduction. He believed her to be dead and, for a while, he allowed himself to be glad. Yet, here she is. Young and fair as expected. Lucas has a photograph of his parents and Elektra is the spitting image of the mother. Striking features.

Just like my husband. What can I say? My husband is a handsome man.

They keep to themselves. I wouldn't expect them to trust us just yet but, potentially, they should at least make an effort. Especially now. Now, we're unsure of our surroundings. I run my fingers over my swollen stomach. Nearly over, nearly over. Just a few months left and then it will be here. Completely open to the world.

If it turns out like Alfie, I don't know what I will do. I love my son more than life itself but...but I don't think I could handle another child with his condition. He will never live his life in the way that is expected. He doesn't understand things the way they are. He emerges himself in his own world, which works for him, but he won't be able to manage on his own. What concerns me is that Lucas and I will not be around forever and we seem to be the only ones who are able to look after him.

How are we supposed to protect him from seeing atrocities as we have our throats torn open? How can we protect him from the pain when our blood paints the pavement? Short answer: we can't, no matter how much we try.

“Hel, are you alright? Little one giving you trouble?” Lucas asks, taking a hold of my arm, helping me to my feet. It's been so long since I've seen my feet I have begun to wonder whether they're still there.

“Non, je suis très bien. Does it look okay here?”

“I think so, haven't found anything pomme de mon �"il. Just about to set up camp; do you need a rest? I want you to rest,” he says looking me directly in the eye.

“You will not get 'round me that easily. No, not after your display yesterday. I will rest when I want, ma pomme de terre,” I mutter as I pull away from. Sometimes he does things that makes me question who he is. If I even know him anymore. He is neurotic with out a doubt.

“I've said I was sorry for that. I just lost my temper, that's all; Jesus, am I in the dog house now? Because I don't know how many times I need to apologise to appease you. Tell me what I need to do.”

“That's the issue; you keep 'just' losing it. Anyway, we've talked about it so it's in the past. Shall we go over?” I say as I run my fingers through my hair. Lucas nods and takes my arm. Why he thinks I am an invalid I do not comprehend.

When we rejoin the group, the sleeping bags have been rolled out and Sam has started a fire with the spirit burner. The smell of bacon hits me as we approach it. The scent of meat makes me feel sick but...it's all we have. Dietary preferences are of little consequences when food is scarce.

Elektra is sitting, leaning on Jason. Sam and Dan are both turning over pieces of bacon at regular intervals. No one is saying anything. Alfie is playing with his favourite toy truck; he loves that stupid thing, the only thing he was interested in taking with him. I can't even remember where we found it. It must have been when we went into Paris when Alfie was still really small. There was a huge market that had everything. Food, medicine, water but what does my husband get? A plastic truck. A toy for a six month old baby. I wonder sometimes, I really do.

“Elektra, one rasher or two?” Sam asks, flipping the bacon while reaching for another piece of metal shrapnel to put the rashers on.

“Oh one thanks. I don't have much of an appetite but thanks.”

“Right, no problem. Here take this, it's burning 'ot. Could you pass that water next to you?” Sam says. There's something about this that is almost domestic. It amazes me how mealtimes restore some form of civility; it returns us to being human. It gives those of us who aren't allowed out a chance to spend time with the people who matter most.

I miss going out on runs. Ever since my last 'bite' scare, Lucas has forced me to stay at the camp and play mother. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. It makes me feel useless, like I am some kind of invalid.

Once we have all been served, there is a satisfied silence. There always is. The bacon tastes like bloody cardboard but food is food. I need to keep my strength up. I'm closer to seven months pregnant and all I can think about is the labour. Delivering Alfie was difficult; it nearly killed me. I had been treated like porcelain during that pregnancy. I was still young but I had been well fed and watered. Things are different this time around. Yes, we have a ton of supplies but not what I need.

I feel a pain stretch across my abdomen. Braxton hicks. Nothing to be too concerned by, according to Sam. I never had them with Alfie but I've been getting them since 16 weeks this time around. The first time I thought that that was the first sign that I was going to miscarry again. I have been pregnant so many times, yet I only have one child. Losing so many babies takes it out of you, physically and emotionally. Giving birth to a dead child isn't much better. That's happened twice. I went through two days of labour for nothing. To hold my dead baby in my arms and then...and then cremate them. First make sure they don't reanimate and then burn them. Spread their ashes across the river.

That's why I was so scared about this one. I think it senses it because it moves whenever I get wary. It also likes to toy with me, not moving for days. I think they do it deliberately, just to scare me.

I adjust my position, placing my hands against my back. They have never been this painful before; they've just been plain uncomfortable but they do that. They do that as the labour progresses.

“Well, that was great Sam. Lovely flavours, did you use paprika?” Dan pipes up, licking the juices from his fingers.

“Nah, you ain't getting round me like that, hotshot,” Sam mutters, playfully slapping the back of his head. It's at times like this that I see the boy I once knew. He never used to be as...as...cold towards people. He was the typical dandy. He used to laugh, make jovial remarks about what had happened. He never used to raise his hand to anyone who didn't deserve it. He was the funniest man I had known and I miss that. I miss the boy who used to take the piss out of everything. Now, if you look at him the wrong way he will beat seven shades of s**t out of you. What happened?

“I am going for a walk,” I whisper to Lucas and he helps me to my feet. I take a few steps and notice that he is following me.

“I just want to take a walk, I can usually manage this part by myself. Go back; keep an eye on Alfie, he hasn't eaten anything,” I continue.

“All right, enjoy. You sure you're all right going off by yourself?” He asks, staring at me, directly in the eye.

I nod and begin my stroll.

In truth, the pain is getting more intense. I just want to walk it off, without having all eyes on me. I waddle over to a newly open plot and wander around. I need a few minutes to breathe. It was a herboristerie, a pharmacy. There is not much left. Just a few boxes that have been tossed onto the floor. I pick up the first boxes I see and arrange them on the display. Distraction, that's what I need. There are prenatal vitamins; I turn the box over and check the expiry date. They expired eight years ago, damn it. I still open the box and remove a tablet. It takes me a moment to contemplate whether it's worth the risk. Should I not do everything I can to make sure my baby is healthy. What's the worst that can happy? They will just turn out to be slightly less potent; either way, it's no great risk.

I swallow the tablet. It takes a few attempts but when I finally manage it, a sharp shooting pain interrupts me. I sit on the ground and focus on my breathing. It will pass. It will pass. It has to pass.

A sound of scratching reverberates around the room. Nails on brick. There's something outside. I can hear it. There's a window at the far end of the shop. If I crawl, I should be able to get a sense for how many are outside. There is never usually one on its own. I place my hand on my bump and begin to crawl. I make progress, slowly but surely. It's been a while since I've been on my knees.

Just a few more meters to go. About four...five more steps. I can manage it. I managed it. I pull myself up using the window pane. I have an extra human being to pull up with me, more weight to try and operate with. By the time I finally pull myself up I am out of breath. Abruptly, the window smashes and a hand bursts through. The shock forces me backwards, onto my back. I crawl backwards, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on them. The pain in my stomach is getting worse but I have to keep shuffling. I scream out as I finally make it to the outside of the shop.

“Hel! Wait there!” Lucas yells, running towards me. There are more than just his footsteps. I feel arms wrap around me and pull me backwards. I watch Dan run past with his pistol. I hear several shots being fired.

I allow myself to breathe. Lucas tightens his grip on me and places his head onto mine. I run my hand over my bump. I feel a shard of glass that inserted itself into my skin. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Blood has pooled on top of my bump. Lucas looks down and I hear him gasp. I feel faint. I pull the piece of glass out. I lean backwards.

“Helene! It's going to be okay. It's only a small shard; it won't have done a lot of damage. Helene, hey, hey, it's okay,” he says, stroking the hair out of my eyes. The sound seems muffled, like I'm under water. My vision has become blurry. Lucas places his hand on the exit site and places slight pressure on it. I feel my eyes roll back into my head.

When I finally come to, my hands are covered in blood. I can see bandages and bottle of antiseptic and bleach around me. I look at the bandage that covers the top of my bump; it has been bleached white, yet still it appears like the Japanese flag of old. I try to adjust my position but suddenly a hand pushes my shoulder down

“Hey, you probably don't want to move too much. It's going to hurt,” Elektra states, examining my abdomen. I never thought of her as a nurse. Where's Sam? Sam should be here.

“Where are Lucas and Sam?”

“I told them to go, that I had a handle on things here. Lucas was going out of his mind and Sam followed. No point in having them here.”

I stare at her. She is fiddling with a new bandage. Considering she's only got one hand, she has proficient aim.

“You 'ave control here? Did it do much damage?”

“No. It's just a minor injury that will bleed a lot. I'll just need to keep an eye on your bandages for a while. Speaking of which...” she observes, “are you okay with me changing your bandages while you're awake?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“No sorry. Unless you really want an infection to develop,” she says apologetically, gazing at my bump. She catches herself and continues fiddling with the bandage.

“You'll have this in a few months, from what I understand.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she says as she pulls her shirt down.

“I don't envy you. You have another eight months; I only have another two at most.”

Elektra pauses and looks down at her feet. There is something melancholic about her expression. I think it is fair to say that I have touched a nerve, a nerve she had tried to avoid.

“I am sorry if I have insulted you. I just meant-”

“No, don't worry about it. It's fine,” she interrupts, forcing a smile. The kind of smile that one uses to conceal their pain. A smile I know all too well.

A few minutes pass with out either of us breaking the silence. She continues to deal with my wound with an expert precision, like she was born to it. If this was another world, she could have been a surgeon. Sam used to be a Cardiothoracic surgeon; she told me of what it used to be like, to give people life. She specialised in bypasses and transplants. She said it was like giving people a second chance to make something of their lives. The thought becomes more sombre when you think, considering the probabilities, that all of them are dead.

“So you come from England? How were things...things over there? Was it as bad as here?”

“Considering I didn't know about Risers until about seven months ago so I guess not. They seem to have all headed south but I guess it must be bad everywhere, otherwise society would still be standing.”

“Oh, I guess. There is a society. Somewhere in Germany, they spoke of a safe zone. They extended as far as they could but had to retreat due to the extent of the situation,” I state, trying to appeal to her. We only managed to travel as far as the Rhine allowed but, we saw them. I was pregnant with Alfie at the time and Lucas begged for our lives. I did not have the energy to plead; I thought it would get better. Seeing others gave me momentary hope but not for long. I saw the exhaustion. I saw the blood stains. I knew things weren't going to get better any time soon so why would I put my life, and the life of my unborn child, in their hands?

“Seriously? Probably something like my group,” she says, sitting down on the stool next to me, “we were safe. For all the flaws and the bulls**t, I was safe. The kids we had with us were safe. We provided a safe haven of sorts, I guess. Until everything went to hell.”

“Are your group still providing safety?”

“No, they're dead.”

“Oh...I'm sorry,” I reply, taking a moment to take in her reaction. She seems coolly indifferent towards it all. I guess it must be something you have to come to terms with in your own time but wow.

“It's fine. Not exactly your fault. It's just...I wasn't there when I should've been. That's all it comes down to it. I'm sure they tried their best to keep themselves safe but it was never going to be good enough,” she states bluntly.

“How old were the kids that were with your group?” I ask, dreading the answer. The prospect of children dying is still sickening, even still. It is a regular occurrence but I don't think anyone will just get 'used' to it.

“The oldest was fifteen, the youngest was just 36 months old. His mother was dead so we got him out of there. He was screaming the place down; I'm surprised he hadn't attracted a horde, not that I knew about them at that point. The more I think about, the more ludicrous it seems that I never knew about 'them',” she says, retelling it like some form of children's story. Merde. How can she seem so calm with something so horrific?

“How many?”

“When I left, twelve. John was very thorough in making sure all of the kids, the orphans of consequence, had someone safe to go. To live. To die. Shame he probably kidnapped ninety percent of them-”

The conversation is drawn to an abrupt halt as Jason walks in, carrying a bundle of towels and three litre bottles of water. He drops them at his feet and stretches.

“Everything okay here ladies?”

“Yes, Elektra and I have been swapping war stories. Where is Lucas?” I ask, trying to look through the small gap in the door behind Jason.

“Just waiting outside. Fair warning, it is unlikely he will ever let you walk out by yourself ever again.”

“That was what I was expecting,” I murmur with a sigh. It had taken so long for him to trust me and now all this. Huh, I can say a permanent au reviour to my freedom.

Elektra stands up and whispers something, that I can't quite make out, to Jason and he places his arm around her. It is not difficult to see how much he cares for her. It isn't a bond you see often because they are severed so quickly. The stronger of the pair usually dies to protect the object of their affection. The weaker one will usually succumb to the elements. They think those things are the biggest threat out there. They're up there but other things will determine survival: infections, starvation and dehydration are what you have to worry about. A knife can't kill hunger. A bullet can't silence an infection. An arrow won't quench a thirst. The elements are the biggest threat. They're what really matter.

Nobody appreciates how much they matter.

Author's Note

what do you think of the switch in narrative voice?