Chapter 8: Chapter 8

“What’s going on?” I gasp, watching as Nurse Georgia lifts Beth’s baby from his crib, marking an X on his cheek with black chalk.

“Alexandra, the baby’s a Cripple,” she says, her voice soft.

“No way,” I push past her, taking the baby from her arms. I look down at his flushed face. “He’s a Perfect!”

“No, he’s having trouble breathing. We don’t have the space or time for a baby who can’t breathe right.”

“But he’s a Perfect!”

“He’s a Cripple.”

“Beth gave her life for him!”

“Beth was a Defective.”

“She wasn’t! She was just sick!”

“And that makes her a Defective. Alexandra, the baby’s a Cripple. Either way, the mother is a Defective.”

“But why does it matter if he can’t breathe right? He’s a new life! He’s a baby! Give him a chance!”

“Go clean up, Alexandra. You’re covered in blood, and you’ve had a shock. You wouldn’t want to risk a miscarriage, would you?” Nurse Georgia snaps.

The baby stirs in my arms, opening his dark-brown eyes to look at me. “I’ll take care of him! I will!”

“He’s a Cripple, Alexandra! He won’t make it to school, past the Testing, to war.”

“Just, please! Beth died for this boy. Please let me try. Let me try.”

“We don’t have room for a Cripple here, Alexandra. You’re due in a month. You don’t have the time or energy to care for two babies. Especially one that can’t breathe right.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“His blood pressure’s off too. His heart is too small.”

“Give me a chance?”

“I won’t risk your baby, Alexandra. Even if you might, I won’t allow it. Give me the child.”

Nurse Georgia reaches for Beth’s son. I step back. “No!”

“He’s not even your child!”

“Beth died for him! I don’t want her death to be in vain! He was supposed to become a Master and end the war!” I sob.

“Alexandra! Enough.” She lunges for me, but I dodge her. “I don’t want to hurt your baby, Alexandra. Don’t be foolish. Give me the child.”

“You’re going to kill him.”

“I’m going to dispose of him. His life isn’t worth living.”

“You said you could save him!”

“And I did! It’s not my fault he’s a Cripple!”

I look at the tiny child sleeping in my arms. “He’s so innocent,” I whisper.

“He won’t feel anything, I promise,” Nurse Georgia says softly.

“How can I hand him over to you to be killed?” I look up at her through my tears.

She shakes her head slowly. “In a month you’ll have your own baby to worry about, Alexandra. I understand your maternal instinct to care for this one. But he’s not yours, and he’s a Cripple. Give him to me.”

“I can’t.”

The door opens, and Nurse Libby brings in Head Nurse Tania. They look at me, blood-soaked and clutching Beth’s baby to my chest.

“Isn’t he a Cripple?” Head Nurse Tania asks.

“He is,” Nurse Libby confirms.

“I’m going to take care of him,” I tell Head Nurse Tania.

“You can’t do that, Alexandra. Give me the baby.” She reaches out her arms.

“No! Beth died for him! You can’t kill him too!”

“Hold her!”

“No!” Nurse Georgia and Nurse Libby grab me, but I don’t have the strength to fight them both. Head Nurse Tania wrenches the baby from my arms and runs out of the room.

I manage to push Nurse Georgia and Nurse Libby away and chase after Head Nurse Tania, screaming down the hallway.

***

“Beth’s baby died that day. They didn’t waste any medicine on a Cripple. The baby was just cremated alive, turned into ash.”

“Oh.” The journalist grips her cup tightly. “That’s horrible.”

“That was the fate of Cripples when they were that young or that crippled. Cremated alive. The smoke killed them first, though.

“And they returned to the ashes, like everything else in Albion. They barely even had an hour of life.”

“Your mother couldn’t save him?”

“She was slowed down by her swollen belly and a bloody gown. She was stopped and taken to the bathroom. They cleaned her up and put her to bed. But she already hated them. All of them.”

“So that’s when things changed for her?”

“Things had already changed long before, but she just hadn’t realized how much. In a way, despite her questions, she had been denying her doubts.

“Beth’s death, though, made her realize that they might, in fact, be legitimate. My mother spent the next month in her room alone. She didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t let anyone visit her.

“Forced by her pregnancy to leave her room for food a few times a day, my mother remained polite and conventional in front of the other girls and the nurses who checked on her baby.

“In her room, she hugged her belly tightly, feeling for the movements of her baby inside her. She talked to her baby, made promises, rambled on, and stared out the window, watching the gray horizon.”

“Was she planning something?”

“Planning? I don’t think so. She’s looking at a future filled with at least sixteen years of pregnancies, raising kids, and no breaks until she maybe becomes a teacher or a nurse.

“But even that dream was shattered by Eric. Planning? I’m not sure. Thinking about ending it all? Probably. All I know is she locked herself in her room for a month. Then one afternoon, she started feeling contractions.

“She wasn’t so stubborn as to be foolish. She’d already witnessed one baby being born on her bed. So, she made her way downstairs, where two nurses ushered her into a birthing room.

“They told her she had about ten hours to go before the baby would actually arrive. Her contractions weren’t close enough together yet.

“Most girls in labor would roam the nursery in a group, but my mom was still playing the lone wolf. She spent hours pacing the halls, checking the time, and eating whatever food they gave her.

“She wandered out of the birthing area and into the nursery wing, where new mothers and their babies lived together for a year.

“She found herself in the main room where mothers sat with their tiny, perfect children, whispering softly, trying to teach their babies to walk and talk.

“My mom was captivated by the mothers and their babies until her next contraction hit. Then she moved on.

“By the time she returned to the birthing room, she’d been wandering for a few hours. She knew she had more time, but her feet were starting to ache.

“But she wasn’t going to get a break. Eric was there. One of the nurses had called him, just like he’d asked her to do when my mom went into labor.

“Eric was waiting for her with one of the nurses and gave her a polite smile when she entered the room. She would have acted more appropriately, more respectfully, if she’d seen him under different circumstances.

“But the contractions hit, and she ended up gasping on the floor, swearing.”

“Did Masters often visit the nurseries?”

“They did, actually. They liked to see the babies being born, being raised. They were the gears that kept the whole system running, so they visited often.

“It wasn’t unusual for Eric to be there. He stayed by her side. While she endured contractions, he walked her through the nursery again and brought her food and water when she needed it.

“I don’t know if they talked, but I do know that he stayed with her. She gave birth at midnight. Eric named the baby Alexandra 58,586,543,887.64.1. Named after her mother, as the first daughter should be.

“She weighed exactly seven and a half pounds. Her skin was as pale as snow, her lashes and brows were dark. Her eyes were dark, her lips plump and pink. She was a Pre-Perfect in every way.

“They took her away to be cleaned up, and my mom fell asleep in the birthing room. She didn’t wake up until Eric carried her back to her room.”