The sudden change in Occam, a man most often steady and highly focused, did not surprise Edge. He laughed inside, understanding this was normal for an expectant father, and not realizing his own turn would be much the same someday.
“Be at ease, Occam, be at ease. These things take time. Surely Olivia will not be in need of the woman for hours. Get thee gone and beside her, and I will fetch the midwife as soon as the calf is on the ground alive. It will be only moments.”
In his new state of mind, almost anything would have sounded reasonable. Clapping a hand on Edge’s shoulder in brotherhood, Occam tried to exude confidence and calm.
“Indeed, Edge, there be time… but make haste as soon as the calf draws breath. Better sooner than later.”
With the words spoken, Occam turned on his heel and ran. He did not realize he looked like a man in panic, and if he had he would not have cared.
The heifer spilled the calf out until the hips got stuck. Then she got up and tried to nudge the limp, hanging baby, spinning in a tight circle to see what it was hanging from her rump. The calf flapped its ears and in a small, frothy bawl startled its mother. The heifer kicked and bucked, the calf detaching and hitting the ground in a sodden lump, and the cow took off.
Knowing all was well, that the frightened heifer would return to clean and encourage the calf to stand and nurse, Edge grinned. This was the best part of life. He turned to run into town to find a buggy or hitch one up and noticed Charon standing silently, gazing at the calf. In his haste Occam had forgotten all about the creature.
There was no need for Edge to have the robot go along with him. In fact, it might delay him.
“You know of where Occam went? The cabin Olivia and Jody share?” He asked the metal man.
“I do,” voiced the bot.
“Then get thee to Olivia’s house quickly, and make to be useful.”
Chapter 25
A life spent cursing is a life not at all. But the man driving oxen in the mud, lashing their backs with a thirty-foot bull whip as though taking out all the wrongs of the world was beyond recognizing how miserable he was.
The man limped alongside the hitch, berating the beasts as though they could understand, and any who witnessed wondered at the scene. Several entertained the idea that the man had passed into insanity and considered reporting the abuse of the animals to the man who owned them but in the end kept their mouths shut.
It was the way of the world. People hesitated to place themselves in the business of a person out of control and doing egregious ill, while they would have thought nothing of doing so in the case of a person doing little of any real harm they considered weak and unlikely to cause trouble.
A single individual had dared to speak up in all the time Arc had been working the freight wagon, and when the little man turned on him, the whip coiled and at the ready, the man had frozen and immediately regretted his exclamation. He cringed and quailed beneath the gaze of a physically much smaller man but one that frightened him to his core.
Beyond the task at hand, beating the animals into performing, Arc was occupied with his own intentions. He seethed under a dark cloud of possibilities. Time spent studying his enemies was coming to an end. He had to act soon, before the wagons began the long journey home. There was a time limit on his patience.
Soon…
§
Finding the door of the cabin open, Charon entered. A stage set in intensity met its optics. The young, female human, so apparently gravid in her kindness to the robot, sat in a chair in the center of the room. No, not sat, more… reclined into it. Facing the door, sweat beaded on her brow and eyes closed, she bore down in the throes of heavy labor.
Between Olivia’s legs and kneeling on the floor in preparation for catching the child to be born, Occam made an attempt to support the perineum as the head crowned. His own head lolled from side to side, an obvious sign that he was in trouble, ready to pass out.
Make to be useful, the robot had been instructed.
There was a low table next to Occam, one of Olivia’s bare feet using it for a brace as she clenched and strained. As the robot watched, Occam’s head seemed to detach from his shoulders, collapsing toward the table’s sharp edge.
The mechanical stepped forward and placed its legs to either side of Occam’s shoulders, supporting the big man as he melted toward the floor. The woman strained, a moan not unlike the moo of a cow emanating from deep within her, unbidden but undeniable. Hands clutching the arms of the chair, Olivia bore down, and the head of the baby emerged. Bending down, Charon reached to accept the child into the world.
§
All women with the urge to mother a child have ideas of what the birth experience will be. In the days before the plagues, the majority of those in developed countries had their babies at home. More than half giving birth in Great Britain were attended by midwives and many more than that in China. The United States led the way in medically assisted births and as a result had more injuries and infections than less medically focused countries. The statistics spoke for themselves, but the medical lobby had hidden the facts in their own interest. In a nation that respected education and experts, women and their husbands shed their own accountability in favor of placing responsibility in the hands of those intent on making money. Parents, particularly women, were never informed willingly, and the machine of birth-for-profit chewed them up and spit them out.
Two hundred years later, Olivia had knowledge and a mental attitude designed to focus on what she would not be able to avoid. Part of that attitude was to embrace the birth experience, allowing her body to perform as it was intended. One of the first lessons that came to bear was the instruction to “get out of the way of the pain.”
Remembering the drill and her experiences in assisting other births, Olivia started her labor as she would any effort with a goal in mind. She started with pacing, staying upright and allowing gravity to assist. Once she put the pain aside as best she could, an effort with each contraction, she developed her burst of energy into a focus for success. A form of meditation helped to open her body as she forced herself to relax.
Her water broke, and she realized she would probably birth her child by herself. She had not been in labor long enough for the midwife to be summoned, and Jody had gone into town. When the small boy from next door appeared, Olivia sent him running for help.
The pressure release as the water broke felt wonderful, but almost immediately the intense pain of contractions began anew. She walked when she could, squatting regularly as she visualized the baby moving into the birth canal.
Excitement passed over her as the urge to push began. Using the big chair that Occam favored when he came to visit, Olivia found a comfortable position to bear down. Knowing her effort was soon to culminate in the first new breath of a child became an intense joy. Her heart expanded to accept what was coming, and she pushed.
She began to voice an animal sound with each effort. Without her realizing, without her hearing it, the noise emanated out of her with no awareness of from where or why it came.
Barely noticed, light flooded in. Olivia was in the last stages of transition, her labor accelerated when her water broke early, and she had little awareness of anything except that Occam had arrived. He crouched between her legs, a look of fascinated horror on his face, and then the pain surged, and she pushed.
A sudden release of pressure as the head emerged… another push, the shoulders following in another intense pain… and then relief. Blessed relief, as strange metal arms extended over her and placed a small, wet bundle against her chest.
Strange arms withdrew, almost unnoticed and certainly disregarded. The small, wrinkled face that bubbled at the mouth and blinked with dark, unfocused eyes held Olivia’s attention. How much time passed, Olivia did not know, but gentle hands began to wipe the baby clean and administered silver nitrate to the blinking eyes. Several moments passed before Olivia realized the hands were mechanical.
By the time th
e new babe was clean, Occam appeared in the background, watching. Soon the grey umbilical cord stopped pulsing, and the robot that Olivia now recognized tied it with a clean cotton lace, cutting the last physical bond between mother and child. The baby was officially an individual. On presenting in a final push and less pain, Charon received the placenta, inspecting to make sure it was complete. Then the bot faded into the background, standing back silently. Bringing a chair close, Occam held Olivia’s hand as she drifted into sleep, exhausted. The baby on her chest did as well, mouth chewing as though finding a new and significant ability.
§
As life transitioned into warmer days, the greening of the earth bringing energy to all the animals walking or crawling or flying over it, the processes of survival became easier. This was the season of life renewed, and the long time of winter’s death was easily forgotten.
Open meadow, verdant and fresh, with a small, seasonal brook babbling happily across grey, mossy stones, became a venue for the grand event. A marriage long anticipated was in the offing.
An arbor laced with the freshness of spring graced a space selected with a massive, greening, cottonwood as a backdrop. Chairs in back and blankets on the ground in front invited occupancy, and the people arriving in their finery accepted, gathering in laughing, congenial groups.
A covered wagon was placed in back of tables laden with delicacies, many brought by the assemblage. Inside, the bride stayed hidden in her wedding gown, her entrance intended as an event. Soon she would emerge, much as a blossom or butterfly in the springtime glade.
The groom stood about nervously, accepting attention unconsciously and returning polite conversation immediately forgotten in his excited discomfort. Beside him, Edge played the part assigned a best man. He channeled people in and away so that no one was left out or monopolized the groom’s attentions.
As the day warmed, shawls and jackets were removed and folded to become padding, and the crowd began to quiet. They all knew the time was growing near.
The musicians, playing low background music on guitar, bass, fiddle, and with a tambourine as percussion, became silent.
A big man, dressed in a suit of ancient design, moved to the fore and positioned himself as the official to administer vows. Till looked uncomfortable in the tight tuxedo, putting his finger often to his throat to adjust the collar and looking as though he was trying to stretch it to a larger size. In his hand a thick, dog-eared book hung heavily.
Noting that Till had made his way to a position under the arbor, Edge leaned toward his Master and friend’s ear and whispered that the time had come. Then he moved ahead of Occam, breaking way through the crowd. Occam followed, greeting and shaking hands as he went, still in a daze of excitement, performing his obligations diligently, if unconsciously.
A covered bassinet, positioned to be warmed by the sun but not too much, waited close to the front. Jody moved to it and laid the white-gowned baby inside. The infant dozed as children do, squirming and stretching then settling into a comfortable slumber. Moving to one side of the podium, Jody stood resplendent in her gown of pale lavender. As maid of honor she beamed, even when looking across at Edge. This was a time of joy, and she was determined to stay any dark clouds and shun them for the day, but she still avoided his eyes.
A pregnant moment, filled with anticipation, quieted the crowd.
A single note, long and softly sharp, growing in volume as it held the air, issued from the fiddle. The guitar joined in a flourish of chords with the bass chiming in deeply. A tune picked by the soon-to-be-wed filled the meadow, and the event progressed as a celebration of life, of love, and of joy.
Standing at the rear of the wagon, behind the food-laden tables, Olivia presented her hand to Cable as she descended the steps to the ground. Beaming, he offered his arm, and grinning madly they began the walk down the aisle that would present Olivia to the rest of her life.
As Olivia entered Occam’s sight, he wondered at her beauty. In keeping with tradition, entering a second marriage, she had chosen a gown of color instead of solid white. The skirt flowed about her in frothy palest yellow, her bodice a damask of creamy eggshell pulled tight, accentuating her full breasts until they seemed ready to overflow. In her golden hair, every small flower of yellow or white that could be found in the meadows twined with a vine of tiny green leaves, a halo about her head. But it was her blue eyes that held Occam. He had loved before and loved each of his present wives, looking forward to the fall and seeing them again, but this woman was as special as any of the others, and this was her day. He beamed.
A sudden, dark thought crossed Occam’s mind. He had an image of this woman being abused in a former life, a tragedy as she had no control of her former forced marriage and the man she had wed, and Occam vowed silently that he would provide her with all that she deserved from this day forward. As a man, as a husband, as a friend and lover, he would support her as best he was capable to bloom into the woman she was to become. As he made his mental vow, he shook off all dark thoughts and returned his focus to the day at hand.
Meeting beneath the arbor, Occam took Olivia’s proffered hand and drew her to him. They could not take their eyes from one another. Their bond was too great already.
“Ahem… AHEM!”
Beckoning the couple, interrupting their reverie so the ceremony could begin, Till voiced his insistence in an effort to get their attention. After a slight hesitation, the couple broke their gaze and focused on the task at hand.
“In the presence of all here assembled, we have come together to witness…” Till droned on, and the couple made an effort to follow his words but failed utterly.
They stood, feeling each other’s warmth in each other’s hands, Olivia feeling the rough calluses of a mature man involved in hard labor, and Occam appreciating the small, fine tenderness wrapped within his own.
Occasionally one or the other would engage enough to understand a passage or two…
“… Marriage is a gift through which husband and wife shall be united in heart, body, and mind…”
“… The gift of marriage brings a man and woman together in the delight and tenderness of sexual union and joyful commitment to the end of their lives…”
“… children are born and nurtured...”
“… enriches society and strengthens community…”
“… each give their consent, one to the other, and make solemn vows…”
“… earthly life together.”
Till hesitated, looking up. His eyes passed over the blissful couple before him, studying the assembled friends and loved ones.
“I must ask this question of you here assembled.”
All of the people in the glade knew this part and wished the question could be removed from the ceremony. It was an uncomfortable tradition.
“If any person can show just cause why this couple may not be lawfully joined together, let them now speak or else hereafter forever hold their peace.”
Silence, uncomfortable silence. Someone coughed, trying to stifle it.
§
The honeymoon had been arranged, and those participating in planning it felt good. Having chosen to donate a light carriage for the couple’s use, a vehicle to deliver them to their accommodations in an opulent hotel in the center of town, Frank picked a matched team to pull it. His man chosen to drive was late, so he determined to do the driving himself.
Checking the covered surrey, making sure there was space for the bassinet, Frank mulled over his tardy employee, wondering. The man was never late, having a solid grasp on where the sun was in the sky.
“Pardon sir.”
Frank turned, startled. One of his more recent employees fixed him with an intent regard. The short, ugly man with the broken face and a pronounced limp stood before him.
“Pardon sir,” he lisped through his crooked jaw, “I see you are awaiting your driver. I fear I have bad news. I have returned just now from town and did overhear that he be injured and taken to hos
pital. I thought to inform you.”
Face clouding, the news bad indeed, Frank pondered the grin on the little man. He seemed less than appropriately despondent, instead seeming eager. Chalking it up to the man’s wish to be useful, Frank anticipated the next utterance.
“I could drive, sir. I am fully capable of driving your fine horses and would be well pleased to be of service.”
Again, the man smiled a little too intently, his dark eyes probing his employer.
Thinking quickly, sure that the little man had few opportunities in life to overcome first impressions, Frank sympathized with him. His own first thought was to deny the man and do this job himself, but he relented.
“Good, and thanks for the offer.” He motioned toward the carriage seat where a dark jacket and top hat awaited the missing man. “Wear those, and follow along. I’ll just get my horse.”
The little man proved competent, urging the horses easily, gentle on the reins. As he watched, Frank appreciated chance providing this driver out of the blue.
Parking the carriage behind the wedding wagon and tying the reins of the elegant pair to it, the little man faded into the rear of the crowd and promised to be ready when required. As he said it, Frank imagined an odd look in his eye and had a momentary trepidation, but the feeling faded, and Occam’s friend passed off the feeling as a reaction to the man’s less than attractive appearance.
§
“If any person can show just cause why this couple may not be lawfully joined together, let them now speak or else hereafter forever hold their peace.”
Silence, uncomfortable silence. Someone coughed, trying to stifle it.
A man stood up, small but dressed in a dark coat and wearing a tall hat and thereby seeming overbearing and ominous.
Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) Page 24
