Chapter 12: Elektra

Chapter 12

Elektra

There's something I instantly trust about her. She's like me in ways. She's still young yet has been aged. God, is that going to me in a few years? Looking after a child, being treated like bloody porcelain? I don't think I could stand it. I'd rather take a bullet before I get to that stage. Unable to take a step without having shadow, constantly remarking and informing each thought. No way. Probably a good thing that I seem to have quite a bit in common with my sister in law. Not that I am well versed in the etiquette as far as that is concerned.

“Is she going to be alright?”

Lucas practically jumps on me as we enter the corridor. He's like a bloodhound with a scent. He nearly knocks me off of my feet.

“Yes, yes she's going to be fine. Her and baby are both going to be fine from what I can see. Calm down it was only a shard to the stomach, not exactly life threatening,” I joke, allowing myself to begin to smile. Lucas gazes at me with a bemused expression. He doesn't understand that I'm joking. They never do.

“Just kidding, just kidding. I understand your concern-”

“She has a twisted sense of humour,” Jason states, seemingly finishing my sentence.

“Long and short of it, yes,” I reply, elbowing him in the stomach. He tightens his grip on me and smiles.

“Get a room you two,” Danny jeers, flicking the ash from his cigarette.

“Had one, didn't work out,” I retort, shooting him my sweetest smile. He takes a puff out of his cigarette and begins to laugh. The slow laugh. Obnoxiously slow laugh.

“If you are done flirting, I need help fortifying the newly broken window,” Sam interjects, searching through a toolbox. Lucas hands her a plank of wood and a hammer.

“I'll go, if you need any help. Helene will be fine and I could so with something to make me useful,” I offer. Sam nods and leads the way. I follow, glancing back. Jason is having a conversation with Lucas; I did not think that would happen. I guess we all have to attempt to get along.

“Right, we need a few boards to cover the broken glass. If you see any trouble arise, put them down immediately. We ain't got the time to find a new place,” Sam instructs, passing me a hammer and three boards.

“Okay, I've got it. Board up the windows, put the Risers down if they cause any trouble,” I respond, kneeling down to pick up some of the broken glass from the floor. I throw the shards aside and focus on the task in hand. I place the board against a vulnerable piece of glass and try to line it up. It keeps slipping from my grasp. I can't quite do it. Bugger, I can't do. I can't physically do it. Oh yes, I can hold a gun but simple DIY? No, obviously not.

“It's alright if you can't. I don't need another person. I'm not incapable, no offence. I just wanted to scope you out.”

Saying 'no offence' before a sentence does not make what follows any less offensive. I guess she's right though.

“You wanted to scope me out? Don't blame you; new, strange people wandering around. It's only natural you would be cautious.”

“Glad you understand. Would've been awkward otherwise. People don't tend to like it when you don't trust 'em,” Sam states, hammering several misshaped nails into the wooden boards in front of her.

“Yeah, I can understand that. I am just beyond caring to be honest. So, how long have you been with my brother and the rest? I'm curious.”

“Ha, good way to be. Eight years, I think. I encountered them when the group was much larger. Helene's dad was the first one I met. He was a good man so, naturally, he didn't make it. Doctors are extremely valuable. We always have been. In the old days, you could emigrate with ease because you had a valuable occupation. These days, they rely on me to keep them alive or to teach them how to keep themselves alive,” she recounts.

“I see. Eight years? Wow. I was twelve. God, a lot can change in eight years.”

“Twelve? God, so you're twenty? I thought you were about fifteen at most. I was twenty five when everything went to hell. I'm guessing you can do the maths?”

“I hadn't even been born,” I reply, touching the hem of my shirt, “this is all I have ever known. Pretty s***ty lot in life, right?”

“I wouldn't say so. I always used to think that it was most difficult for the kids, growing up in these circumstances, but no. You ain't got a well to draw on, any knowledge of before. Best suited to adapt because you ain't got nothing to adapt from.”

“I guess so. Then again, I guess the apocalypse was bad news for everyone. The born and the unborn. There isn't exactly a group it has truly benefited,” I state.

Sam pauses and stares at me. She rubs her jaw and nods. She continues with her DIY attempt.

I place my hand on my stump. It feels strange, even now. Right now, I am wiggling my fingers. Fingers that haven't been there for a month. It's a weird sensation. I don't think I'm ever going to get over it. Not that I have a choice. I'm not getting my hand back so I will have to make do with phantom pains. Sam gets up and stretches, making sounds of satisfaction.

“Right, that should do it. It won't hold indefinitely but it will do for now. Let's just hope Alfie ain't around when the battlements fall.”

“You sure about that? No offence but it looks a bit weak,” I say, putting a piece of pressure on one of the boards; it falls straight on the floor. She growls.

Abruptly, a Riser lurches forward and attempts to grab Sam. She slides away but it manages to grab her arm. She pulls and pulls but it does not lessen the grip. I fiddle with my belt, trying to find my knife. I can't feel it. Did I drop it? No, I couldn't have. I made sure it was with me but....it's not here. My fingers grasps around the first object I feel in my belt. My pistol.

“Sam, duck now,” I instruct, aiming towards the head. Sam pulls the Riser down. It is now or never; if I don't make this shot, its teeth will rip into her forearm. I take a minute. I take a deep breath and allow my hand to still. I hadn't realised I was shaking like this. I never shake.

I pull the trigger. It hits the Riser in the forehead. The Riser falls forward, landing on top of Sam. A line of bloody dribble falls from the Riser and lands in Sam's mouth. She wipes her eyes and tries to remove the carcass. I rush over to help her; it takes a bit of effort but time is of the essence here. Close proximity and the exchange of bodily fluids. They're how the infection is able to spread like wildfire. It won't take long for the symptoms to manifest.

“Lucky it wasn't someone else. Thanks. You got good aim for a young 'un. Who taught you?”

“A friend. An old friend,” I pause, the memory becoming clearer, “he was always older and wiser. I needed to learn so I satisfied his little ego by asking him.”

Roman. Roman taught all of us. Guns, knives, he taught them all. I miss him. I miss him so much. I wonder what he would think now, if he was here in the place of Jason. If he was with me. How different things would have been if I'd have let him come with me. I would never have found my dad, that's for certain. Probably would have ended up in some little town in Wales or Scotland. So many questions would still exist but I would have had him.

There's no use in contemplating what could have been. I pushed him away. I met Jason. I met my dad and Lucas. I have gained some answers. That is my reality. Why imagine a different one when it can never happen? This is a reality of my own creation; I have to relish within it.

“Shall we head back now? Before one of us gets bitten,” Sam asks, recovering her breath.

“Probably a good idea. You might want to move slightly away from the window.”

I take Sam's hammer and offer my arm. She accepts my offer of help. We move slowly; she cannot keep my initial pace. She's not as young as she used to me, that much is apparent. Her breathing is strained which I had not noticed previously. The breathing of an asthmatic. The shock of the attack must have really got to her as it probably would.

“Sam, are you all right? What happened?” Lucas rushes towards us with an air of concern about him. His sister and one of his oldest friends approach; one of them looks like death personified. He has every right to be anxious.

“I'm fine. Just got jumped by one of those b******s back there....Not as young as I used to be,” Sam pants, taking Lucas' arm. Lucas escorts her to a seat and offers her a bottle of water. I begin to feel a pain in my left hand. I rub my wrist, trying to relieve the ache. Jason walks over to me and takes my hand.

“Did you get hurt Lex?”

“No I'm fine; it's nothing so don't worry.”

“I worry. Let me look,” he asserts, offering his hand. I let him look at my hand; he is trying to be gentle but each touch causes the ache to amplify. He begins to rub my hand. I wince. He looks up apologetically but still continues.

“Any better?” he asks.

“No, worse but you tried,” I reply, flexing my hand. He puts his arm around my shoulders and whispers “yes, you are very trying”.

A scream erupts. Lucas runs straight for the room; I follow straight after. The only person in that room is Helene, the most vulnerable adult in this unit. God. Helene is sitting in the centre of the floor. She is clutching at her stomach. There is a puddle of water around her. There is the possibility that it is urine but there is a streak of blood running through it. Lucas bends down to face his wife; his frantic expression could force fear into the most rational of minds.

“I fell...the baby...it hurts....I think it is coming,” Helene whines, leaning on Lucas for support. She's bleeding. That can't be good. Lucas strokes her hair and turns to me. I know what he expects but he must know. He must know I have no clue about what to do. Maybe I could do it. Deliver a baby; I mean it can't be too difficult, can it? Not that I've ever had to...deliver a baby.

“Elektra, please help her. I'll get Sam, just stay with her,” Lucas implores. I can't. I can't. I hesitate. If anything happens to Helene or the baby, how could I deal with that? It would be like murder of the innocent. I give a nervous nod. Lucas runs out of the room.

I kneel down and take Helene's hand. I don't know how I'm supposed to comfort her. How do you comfort someone who is about to experience the worst pain of their life...for the second time. I don't know.

“I should 'ave said something. I have had pains for days. Oh god, the baby is going to die, is it not? Isn't it?”

Helene looks deranged with fear. I squeeze her hands.

“Listen Helene, you're going to be okay. Do you hear me? Both you and the baby are going to be fine because I'm not going to let it be otherwise. Neither will Lucas or Sam or anyone else here. You're going to be fine,” I reply, comforting her as much as I can. A scream of agony rips through her throat. I'm going to have to examine her. If her waters have broken, the baby is coming. Whether it's in three minutes or three days, it is on its way and there is nothing we can do to stop it. This baby wants to be born.

“Jason, help me get her on the table,” I instruct, using all of my strength to help her to her feet. She nearly falls back down when another contraction takes her by force. Jason scoops her up into his arms as soon as she is on her feet. Jason gently places her on the metal table. I hear an audible 'pop' and another trickle of fluid runs down her leg. More blood begins to flow which is definitely never a good sign. She shouldn't be bleeding as much as she is. Is she? Why did no one ever teach me about this stuff. Oh yes, teach me how to do an emergency tracheotomy but delivering babies? No, not like that's ever going to be important. Morons.

“Helene, I'm going to need to examine you. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, yes. oh mon dieu, ça fait mal,” she yells, her nails digging into my arm.

I roll down her tights and her knickers. There is so much blood I can't tell what I am supposed to be looking for. There is just so much blood. I can just hear Jason subtly gagging. Right, there is some test to see how many centimetres dilated she is. I know that much. What it is, I have no f***ing idea.

“Jason, I need you.”
He sheepishly approaches and glares at me.

“What do you need? You are a woman, you are probably know a lot more than I do,” he whines, looking away from the bloody mess in front of him.

“How do I check how many centimetre dilated she is?” I whisper, drawing him off to the side.

“Oh, I think it depends on how many fingers you can fit up there or so I have been told,” he replies, sounding relieved. What did he think I was going to ask him to do? Did he think I was going to ask him to play midwife.

Wait.

How many fingers I can fit up there?

Screw that. No way. I am not sticking fingers where it looks like there has been a massacre. Oh god, I don't want to do this. Don't make me do this? Where is Sam? She was a few steps away. Has she been abducted? God, God, God.

I guess I don't have much of choice here. I am responsible for her at this moment. This is not going to be big on dignity. It's like hearing 'hello, I know you don't know me that well but I will be your midwife. Do I know what I'm doing? No, of course not' and next thing you know, there's a hand up your vagina. I take a deep breath. Granted the smell of blood is turning my stomach but I can do this. I find the entrance and insert four fingers. Oh Jesus, they fit. They all fit. Ew, oh god. I can feel it. I can feel the head, at least that's what I think it is. Correction, what I hope is. It's strange. It feels like a piece of velvet. Helene winces; her face is completely flushed yet the top of her thighs are freezing. I take my hand out, gently, trying not to cause any damage. Well my hand looks like it has...has...well like it's been up a bloody vagina.

A gunshot rings out. Not now. Not now. Bloody Risers, so inconsiderate. Helene has begun to pant, fighting through another contraction. Sam, where are you? Lucas dashes in through the door.

“We have to move, now! There's a breach in the wall; they're flooding in like nothing I have ever seen. We have to go now!” Lucas asserts, approaching me rapidly. Helene screams once again.

“Lucas, we can't move her. I think she's about to have the baby; if we move her, heck I'm not sure if we can even more her but if we can, it may do more harm than good. She is having this baby now. Can you hold them off?” I inform him, standing between him and Helene. He takes a moment to think and makes a sound of frustration.

“I don't know! There are hundreds of them out there! I am not going to put my wife and child in danger by keeping them here!” he protests.

“If you take them away from here, don't you see you're putting them in more danger. Your wife can't stand and is about to give birth any minute. If there are hundreds of them flooding in, think about how many must be outside. If we can hold them off, then we can think of a plan when we are thinking rationally,” I surmise. Helene interrupts by screaming various expletives that I can't quite make out.

“Helene, you're going to have to push. The baby is ready to be born. It knows how to be born so we just have to help them. Makes sense right? You think you can manage that or would you like to be moved?” I inquire as I have become increasingly aware of how tired she seems. I don't think moving her is an option. To be honest, I don't think delivering this baby is a good idea either. Having this baby could kill her. It's most likely going to kill her, the amount of blood she's loosing. Blood attracts Risers. If the blood loss doesn't finish her off, the Risers will.

I think we're going to have to attempt to move her. Damn it. The gunshots are getting closer...and closer...and closer. I'm guessing that's where Sam went.

Where's Alfie then?

God. He's still down there somewhere. Has Lucas even noticed that his son has gone AWOL. He must have. He must know. I guess if we move her, she may just make it. If we get her to a car. If we hold them off for that long. It's worth a shot at least. I hope it is.

“All right. All right. Plan B; we'll play this your way. If anything goes awry, we run back here. Agreed?” I reason, imploring to all in the room. Lucas nods, taking no time to take his wife in his arms. Jason picks up the first aid kits and throws it into my rucksack. I take my gun out of my pocket and check how many bullets I have left. Three. Guess I'm just going to have to make each bullet count.

“Right Lucas, you go first. We'll cover you.”

Lucas nods and begins to sprint. Jason looks to me.

“How many do you have left?” he asks.

“Three, you?”

“Four. We have seven between us and a horde to deal with. The maths does not exactly work, does it?”

“Ha, ever the voice of optimism Jace. Yes, we are well and truly screwed. On the upside, we're all going to go down together. There is a sense of twisted optimism to that fact, don't you think?” I reply. Jason looks at me and begins to laugh. I join him. Well, in situations like this, when you know you're about two minutes away from greeting death as an old friend, there's no other suitable reaction in my opinion. Why become distraught over what you cannot change? If this is what's meant to happen, then maybe we should just accept the situation and make the best of it, if that's really ever possible.

“Ready?”

“Here goes nothing,” I muse. I put my hand on the handle and yank it free.

Where are the Risers then? Where are these hundreds they were on about? I pick up the pace, surveying the room. We enter the central court. There are tonnes of them. Tonnes. Lucas has become lost in the sea of bodies. I just keep running, trying to avoid the grasping hands of the dead. Just keep looking forward. The doors are within sight. Not much further, please God. That's when I hear a scream. A child's scream.

I can tell the difference with ease. Difference between Roman's scream and little Annie Stoker's. Both of them are dead so what did their screams matter? What did anything they did mean anymore?

Alfie. He's sitting near the toilets. A Riser is getting closer and closer to him. I can't leave him. I can't leave my nephew to this fate. Even if it kills me. I gesture for Jason to keep running forward and I divert. I just need to reach him before the Riser does. I aim my gun. Come on, don't fail me now. I shoot. He falls. Alfie continues to scream. Whether it was a scream of pain or fear, I don't know.

“Alfie, sh. Just stay calm, mate. It's all going to be alright,” I try to reassure him. He retracts into himself. I hold out my hand to him which he refuses. Screw it. I bundle him up and leg it. He begins kicking and screaming which attracts more Risers towards me. I have to keep moving. Jason runs in front of me and takes Alfie. I don't have time to stop and question him; I just have to run if we're all going to get out of here.

As soon as I reach the outside, I take a deep breath. A load of them begin filing out after us. Lucas is standing outside still holding on to Helene. Danny is dealing with the Risers on the right side. Sam is dealing with those on the left. I kneel down. I need a moment to think about my options. I don't have many. We have to get out of here; it is truly as simple as it appears. I have two bullets left. Two. I stand. I just have to hit, I don't know, fifty Risers with each bullet to be in a good position. I notice a Riser approaching Danny from the back. He's not going to hear me if I shout. I point the gun. If Danny moves, he's dead. I pull the trigger.

Danny looks around to see the corpse behind him. He nods to me and continues on his own little mission. I take a step backwards, getting as close to the car as I can.

“Helene? Helene? Talk to me. Helene!” Lucas bawls, trying to get some form of response from his now unconscious wife. She's losing too much blood.

Jason. Where the hell is Jason? God, no. He's still in there...with all of them...with a limited field of vision. Why did I leave him? No. No. I hear a commotion to the side of me. A Riser has got a hold of Sam's arm and is inches away from tearing into her flesh. Sam is evidently using all of her strength, fighting against the inevitable. I could shot but would I be wasting a bullet? If it's not that Riser that gets her, it will be another in this horde. I understand that and I think she does too. What am I saying? She's a doctor. She's valuable but...weak.

I turn my back. Someone will intervene. I have no real loyalties to these people so why should I waste my bullets on a lost cause? Someone who can't handle a confrontation. I'm not being cold; I'm being pragmatic. Logically if there was a choice between a young, fit person or someone who is unable to protect themselves, who would you save? Of course you would save the person who would aid the survival of the group.

I can't do this. I notice a rouge piece of metal, hanging from an abandoned car. It comes off with ease. I touch the end to ensure it is sharp enough for the purpose. I sprint towards Sam. A Riser approaches me from the side. I grab its shoulder and drive the metal all the way its skull. It takes a great deal of effort to remove the embedded weapon. I yank it out and force it into the next Riser...and then the next....and the next.

I look around and see it.

The moment the Risers sinks its teeth into Sam's arm.