Chapter Two

"Lincoln!"
An explosion jolts the boy away from his nightmares. A cloud of gray smoke billows into the air smothering the blue sky. He stood and walked over to the edge. The Resistance and The Blue were always going at it.
The third world War had been a horrible thing and had left the earth nothing but corpses, a lack of food and proper shelter, disease and orphans. There was nothing left. Everyone was struggling to survive. Some people had even resulted to killing so that they may keep living.
Humanity was at its breaking point.
But Lincoln had resolved to keep living by his parents more important rules. He refused to lose his morality. Stealing to survive was still stealing. But he couldn't die. There was something else out there for him. He could feel it.
He had a few bites of the salami, a drink of water then made his way toward the explosion. He liked to stay on top of their fighting. On the ground, everyone else was running away from the explosion. He smiled at the irony. A black boy running toward the trouble was rare.
There were people in black, the Resistance,  and people in blue, the blue, everywhere. The fire was only getting worse. He was about to turn around and run away himself when he saw a girl emerge from the now destroyed building. He'd seen her around; even spoken with her a few times. She collapsed in the ground.
"Melody! Are you alright?!"
She staggered to her knees and that's as far as she got. He ran in after her, dodging playing piles of rubble. He stood over her, pulling her to get feet by placing guys hands under her arms. Then he threw one of her arms around his neck and one of his around her waist. They began to move away from the danger but before they got far another explosion rang out. They were both sent flying. Lincoln rolled into his back, groaning, a sliver of blood on the side of his head.
He spotted Melody not too far from him. She lay unconscious. He gathered himself and approached her. Picking her up, he took a deep breath and went in search of a empty building at a safe distance from the turmoil.
Once found, he lay her flat on the ground and sat beside her. He was tempted to leave but he had to be sure she was alright; mainly because she was pregnant. She was about 17, his age, and about to pop. It had been years since the world was destroyed. Who had gotten her pregnant? She wasn't pregnant when he'd last seen her. But it had been awhile.
He shrugged, studying her further. He'd never really looked at her. She was pretty with milky skin tinged with a touch of pink. Long copper hair was matted to her face. Her lashes were long and her nose was delicate and led down to a mouth as pink as the highlights in her skin; her lips, he knew, housed a wide smile.
At that her face contorted with pain. She opened her eyes, a mixture of green and gray and looked directly at him. A thankful smile spread across her lips. She grabbed her stomach and moaned in pain.
"Are you hurt?"
"You mean other than the contractions?"
He smiled at her little joke. When she attempted to sit up, she screamed out in pain and fell back. He looked her over and found that she had a rock lodged in her side.
"Oh, God," he breathed.
"It's bad, isn't it?"
"I'm pretty resourceful. I know a guy. You know that. He can help. He can save you."
"He's too far away."
"Don't talk like that. You're going to make it, " he said, his voice strained.
She reached up and touched his face with a smile.
"I always liked you, Lincoln."
"Ditto. Maybe we can get together after things settle down. I can help with the kid."
"You want to do something for me?"
He nods earnestly.
"I know this is asking a lot but I've known you longer than anyone else alive. You're the only one who's been kind to me. Take care of my baby for me."
"Me? Don't you think this kid would be better off with someone else?"
"I don't know what's going to happen to him...I just need to know he'll be in good hands."
"Alright."
But he knew he wouldn't. He planned on taking the child straight to a shelter when all of this was done. He didn't know anything about babies let alone how to care for one.
"Thank you, Linc," she whispered as a tear steamed down her face.
Then she began to groan.
"What're you doing?" he asked nervously.
She kept groaning. She continued to do this for some time making Lincoln all the more anxious.
"The baby. It's coming!"
"What?!"
"Do something!" She shouted.
"What?"
"My pants."
"What?" he says incredulously.
"The baby's coming," she growl.
He quickly moved down to her legs and lowered her pants.
"Oh, dear God. What is that?"
"That's the baby coming. Now get ready!"
She began to push again with more vehemence.
All the while, Lincoln eyes grew wider and wider; not to mention greener.
"He's coming. He's coming. He's here!"
There was nothing to wrap the baby in so Lincoln removed his shirt and wrap the baby inside. He came to Melody's head and showed her the wailing newborn.
"He's beautiful," she cried.
"What're you going to name him?"
"You name him. He's yours."
"His name will be the last thing you give him."
"His life is the thing I gave him. I be happy with whatever name you give him."
"Let's see. White boy born into a crap situation and kicks it with black people," he smiled. "I'm going to call him Marshall."
"Marshall," she repeated with a smile on her voice.
The baby opened his eyes.
"Hey. He's got your--"
When he looked back at Melody, she was looking beyond him; the light gone from them.
He stared at her, the image tugging at his heart. Lincoln looks away, tears forcing themselves to the surface; his decision about the baby becoming that much harder.