by Kent Reaper
* * * * *
"I can't promise anything, but I'll do the best I can." Kenneth hesitated.
"That alone is more than enough, isn't that right, honey?"
"If you're done with your moment, could I have mine now because I'M FREAKING DILATING ALREADY, DAMMIT." Mrs. Karcher shrieked.
The visible relief written all over Mr. Karcher's face used to be a familiar thing for Kenneth to see. He'd see dozens of concerned friends and family members celebrate and collapse as he told them that whatever procedure the patient had undergone was a success. He missed seeing that look. Now, he wasn't sure how many times he would get to relive this worthwhile experience, heck, he wasn't sure how long he was going to live.
"I'll need your help." Kenneth said as he ripped open a new box of disposable surgical gloves.
"Whatever you need, I'll get it." Mr. Karcher replied as they rushed to the toilet to wash their hands and put on the surgical gloves.
"The baby's about to come out. From what I see, there's neither time nor means to get her anywhere else. We have to do it here."
Mr. Karcher nodded, clearing the place of unnecessary clutter.
"Are there any clean towels, blankets, sheets? Bring whatever you can find here, now." Kenneth ordered.
A sense of control he hadn't felt in nearly forever had overcome him. Suddenly, the infected clamoring for their prey inside of Ward 29 didn't register on Kenneth's awareness any longer. A couple needed his expertise, no matter how limited it was and Kenneth simply could not ignore their pleas for help any longer.
He spotted an open window from inside the ward toilet which possibly led to a ledge and some high risk escape route outside. But if he took the chance, could he live knowing that he had abandoned this family to its potentially gruesome death? This hospital was so big, maybe he wouldn't even find Jenny in the end. Kenneth didn't know nor did he want to find out. He was just glad that he didn't make such a decision.
"This is everything I could find." Mr. Karcher heaved behind an armful of sheets. "Thank god we didn't opt for a single room ward."
"Great, I need you to line these here."
Kenneth's eyes darted frantically around the room. None of the surgical tools that he had slowly grown accustomed to using were present.
Of course they're not here. Has imminent danger and lingering thoughts of Jenny clouded your judgment?
Kenneth shook off self-critical thoughts as he and Mr. Karcher prepared the area for birthing. If all went well, Mrs. Karcher would need minimal help. But more often than not, births were never smooth sailing. Kenneth prayed silently that nothing would go wrong.
"Don't worry honey. Just relax. Doctor Cook and I will make sure the baby comes out safely." Mr. Karcher reassured his wife while trying his best not to let his anxiety show.
"God! This baby hurts so bad…"
"I know honey. Just -"
"No you don't freaking know! How'd you feel if you were being split apart between your legs, huh? Argh!"
"Don't blame her, and don't patronize her." Kenneth put a hand on Mr. Karcher's shoulder.
"Listen to the doctor dammit!" Mrs. Karcher's shrieks brought a sense of importance to Kenneth.
Doctor Kenneth Cook, M.D., that's a fine title all right. Kenneth smiled, ignoring the pandemonium around him and outside the ward. Just this morning, to have someone address him as 'Doctor' was enough to make his dreams come true. Now, he wondered whether the issue of being licensed would even matter in a world like this.
"Take this and bite into it. It's going to help, a lot." Kenneth ordered as he wrapped up a face towel and shoved it into Mrs. Karcher's mouth. He could see her jaw working its best against her whirlpool of overwhelmed emotion.
"AHHHMPH." Mrs. Karcher's muffled cries made the imminent delivery evident.
"She's dilated enough. Ma'am, can you push?"
Mrs. Karcher nodded, staring daggers at both of the sheepish men with gloves.
"Alright Mrs. Karcher. Is this your first child?" She shook her head. Kenneth heaved a small sigh of relief on the inside. At least this would make things slightly easier.
"Listen to me, you're going to have contractions. You'll be tempted to push at the peaks. I'm sure the doctor delivering your baby the last time has told you already, but I'm going to say it again for you. You're going to have contractions. You'll be tempted to push at the peak of a contraction. Don't. I want you to push in between contractions. It'll make your life easier that way, understood?"
"Mmmph!"
Kenneth placed a hand on Mrs. Karcher's belly and drew back the next instant.
"The baby just kicked." He commented, slightly startled by the reality of the situation. This was a life he was suddenly expected to deliver.
"He did, didn't he?" Mr. Karcher harped excitedly.
"Yeah, she's ready." Kenneth replied. "Mrs. Karcher, I need you to push."
"Mmmngh!" She pushed again and again as Kenneth watched intently for the head to appear.
The infected outside pounded their fists against the ward door.
Maybe they smell new meat and are more excited than ever. Kenneth shook his head again, berating himself for letting such morbid thoughts run through his brain while something as beautiful as new life was being born before his very eyes.
"C'mon honey, I know you can do it! You've done it before and you can do it again. Deep breaths now, push!" Mr. Karcher was way better at encouraging his wife than Kenneth, and he opted to leave them to it.
In fact, Kenneth felt that his presence thankfully wasn't really needed at all. At this rate, the couple could deliver the baby all on their own.
"C'mon, baby. Push. Push for our son. Push for us."
A bloody mess began pooling in between Mrs. Karcher's legs, soaking the clean white sheets with blood.
"Doctor Cook, how are we doing? Doctor Cook?" Mr. Karcher's voice suddenly seemed so far away.
It was one thing to see the gruesome scenes outside, but another thing entirely to see it corrupting the white sheets before him.
This is a… what do they call it… a 'trigger', isn't it?
Kenneth had read some books on psychology in his spare time, especially those on post-traumatic stress disorder to find further evidence supporting is amateur self-diagnosis of his mental state. But little did he expect something as distant as psychological concepts to happen to him.
Suddenly the world as he knew it faded away. He was back, back in the Accident & Emergency department giving trauma victims preliminary care.
The man was wheeled in by two frantic paramedics. He screamed out in agony whilst struggling against his restraints, not unlike the infected man being wheeled in earlier today.
"What's the case?" Kenneth asked one of them.
"We aren't completely sure. At a glance he has a right shin contusion, an open fracture. He's in shock, vital signs normal apart from that."
Kenneth lifted the sheet covering the screaming man and averted his eyes the next moment.
Fuck, it didn't look good.
"Condition, Cook. Give me the patient's condition!" Doctor Ross's booming voice rang down the corridor, his voice every bit as urgent as Kenneth's.
"Open right shin fracture and contusion. Patient's in shock, needs restraint." Kenneth repeated after the paramedics as he watched them scamper back to the ambulance for cover. He took a moment for himself to sigh before calling for a nurse.
Doctor Ross, the doctor assigned to mentor him, was rumored to be the toughest doctor to work under and no one liked to be around him for too long. But Kenneth liked the challenge. Despite being only here for three weeks he had already learnt so much, though at the expense of his much-needed sleep.
"Does he have a chart?"
"Yes. Do you want to see it?"
"There's no time. Anyone came in with him?"
"No, doctor."
"Give him five CCs of morphine, then another five if he doesn't calm the fuck down first. I'll look at the chart later. Christ he's
getting on my nerves."
"Yes, sir." Kenneth replied, sending the nurse on her way.
"Doctor Cook! Doctor Cook!"
"Huh? Wha-"
That beginning to the horrible disaster disappeared from his mind, replaced by the image of a concerned Mr. Karcher shaking his shoulders.
"Doctor, we need you here! Shouldn't we at least be seeing the baby by now?"
Kenneth stared blankly at Mr. Karcher before giving his wife a glance.
"He's right. I don't see crowning. Mrs. Karcher, the baby's head hasn't come out yet. I'm going to need you to push as hard as you can."
"Mmmmmph!" Mrs. Karcher's muffled shrieks were understandable, but given the situation, Kenneth simply did not know what else to do.
If only Doctor Ross were here.
But as the world burned outside the ward, the chances of finding Doctor Ross alive, well and willing to come back here to help were practically zero.
"There's something we could use in the case of prolonged labor." Kenneth muttered; his brow furrowed as he struggled to recall his lectures. "We need some sort of vacuum device. I can't remember the name, but I'll know it when I see it."
He looked around.
Why do I even bother? This is just a ward, there's no calipers, no vacuum, no supplies, fucking nothing!
Kenneth pounded the wall with his fist in helplessness. This just kept getting better and better.
"C'mon honey, you're going to be just fine. I need you to push. Waaait for it… push!" Mr. Karcher's words of encouragement were the only words in the room now apart from Mrs. Karcher's muffled shrieks and Kenneth's quiet sighs.
"Wait, honey, I see it! I see our boy! Wait, Doctor Cook, is this normal?"
Kenneth's ears perked up as he turned round and took a look. What he saw made the color drain from his cheeks.
He expected a head, but saw a pair of feet instead.
"It's a breech birth." Kenneth whispered. "This is not good."
"What? What the hell is that?" Mr. Karcher asked.
"We should be seeing the baby's head. But we have legs instead. The baby's coming out the wrong way."
"Oh shit!"
"Mmmph?"
"Nothing honey, everything's going to be alright." He reassured his wife, though even an idiot could tell that he was lying.
Kenneth stood rooted to the spot, unable to think, unable to breathe.
It's just like the last time, and now, more people are going to die by my hands.
* * * * *
Five
