by Barker,Ashe
"How long will all that take? These tests?"
"A few days, sir. We need to be thorough, and give your wife every chance to show some improvement. Until then, we can help to maintain her vital systems..."
"What if there is no improvement? That's what you expect, isn't it?"
"Sir..."
"Isn't it?" Ged's gaze bored into the doctor's, demanding the truth, uncompromising.
Eventually the man bowed his head in simple acknowledgement. "I am so sorry, sir."
Ged closed his eyes, and swayed on his feet. He'd known what he would hear. In his heart he saw it, felt it, heard it in the artificial thump of Janey's heart, the mechanistic hissing in and out of her breath as the machines pumped to keep her alive. Still, the specialist's bald statement came as a punch to the gut, followed by a killer kick in the teeth. Ged took a few moments to collect his wits, then continued.
"And the baby? She's due to be born in four months.” Was due. “Is the baby all right?"
"As far as we can tell, sir, though we'll do a scan as soon as possible to make sure of that. With the life support, it's possible the baby may survive even if the mother, ultimately, does not. The child could be delivered by Cesarean section, closer to the due date..."
"You mean, we could keep Janey alive, if you can call this alive, until we have no further use for her as an incubator? Is that what you're telling me?"
The doctor bristled, but his expression never faltered. "No, sir, that's not it. Not at all. I'm just trying to explain the possible scenarios and what approach might offer the best outcome for both our patients. Please, just allow us to do our job for now. We'll let you know the moment there's any change in your wife's condition."
"Oh yes, you certainly will," growled Ged. He'd heard the platitudes, the false reassurances, the promises that failed to extend any real hope, but he'd been able to go deeper. He knew already what the man refused to say unless Ged coerced him.
Their initial examinations and tests had revealed no discernible brain activity. Janey was, to all intents and purposes, dead.
His mind racing, Ged dragged his phone from his pocket and left the doctor to stare after him as he turned on his heel and marched out into the car park. He found a spot out of earshot of any passers by and he dialed Serena's number.
"Ged? Everything all right? How are Jane, and the baby?"
"Bad. Really bad. Jane had an accident..." His voice broke. He took several moments to collect himself as Serena waited patiently. At last he was ready to continue. "She was kicked by a horse, trampled possibly. She has a massive head injury and..."
"Is she dying?" The question was softly delivered but nonetheless devastating for that.
"Yes." It was the short answer, but Ged knew it to be the truth. Even so, he felt moved to qualify his response. "No... I mean, I think she died already."
"You could turn her."
"It's too late."
"Not necessarily."
"But, the baby..."
"The baby wouldn't survive the turning. You could still save Jane though, but you have to act fast. And you need to make a choice or you might lose them both."
"The doctor said the baby could remain where she is, until… until..."
"Jane's on life support? Is that it? They're offering to keep Jane alive for the baby?"
"Yes, I guess so." That had been Ged's understanding of the little he got out of the consultant. "And, if we were able to ask her, I know Janey would want that. She'd do anything to save this child, and so would I. And if Janey's already gone—"
"I know. I do know that, but listen to me, Ged. We're talking about brain death here—is that right? What exactly did the doctors say?"
"They carried out tests already and there's no brain activity. They didn't say that, but I got it from the consultant anyway. He wants to repeat the tests over the next few days, to confirm."
"No! You can't let that happen." Serena's tone was sharp. Ged pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it for a few moments.
"Excuse me?"
"Whatever they've told you, you do have a window, but it's not huge. Human brain activity actually continues for some time after their instruments can no longer detect it. It can be as much as twenty four hours, twelve for sure. So tell me, when did Jane sustain her injury?”
"Earlier this morning. Around ten o'clock I think."
"I'm on EST here. How many hours ago? Exactly."
Ged glanced at the screen of his phone. "Five and a half."
"Right. So assuming brain death started to occur immediately, that still gives you over six hours to turn her. Beyond that, you do run the risk of running out of time."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm fucking sure. I don't know an awful lot about human physiology, but I'm rock solid certain on this. You have those six hours, Ged."
"She didn't want me to turn her. We talked about it, and she was clear on that."
"The circumstances have changed. You can't ask her, but you can still do what you believe to be right."
"She'd never agree, not if it cost her baby's life."
"She won't live to see that baby in any case if you don't do this."
"And if I do… if I do turn Janey, she'll never forgive me once she realisesI sacrificed her child to save her. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He sat on a nearby bench and allowed his head to drop into his hands.
"Ged? Are you still there? Ged? Ged?" The tinny voice drifted from the phone beside him. Eventually Ged pressed it back against his ear.
"Ged, we're coming over. Whatever you decide to do, you need friends about you right now."
"Thank you. I... yes, thank you."
"Even I can't port across the Atlantic in one go. Give me a couple of hours. James and I will be with you as soon as we can."
The phone clicked off, and Ged remained seated in the relative peace and quiet of the hospital gardens. Around him was birdsong from the shrubbery close by, the faint hum of traffic from the main road a few metres away, the occasional voice carrying across the lawn in front of him. He was oblivious to all of it as he contemplated a future without Janey in it.
Might she pop up again at some stage, time-shifting once more to escape the horror of what had happened to her? Or was this it? The end. Might he be condemned to spend the rest of eternity looking for her, half expecting to find her again in some lifetime centuries from now?
Or might she end up in a time and place where he would never find her? He would have no idea when and where to seek her out. The whole idea was unbearable to him, beyond torture. If Janey was gone, really gone, he would find a way to live with it. He had before. But this uncertainty, this endless hoping, dreaming of the life he might have had, the family snatched away. And all the while knowing he could have saved her. He might have changed their destiny. He still might if he could just summon up the courage, the determination and the single-mindedness to make that call and face her grief and recriminations later.
Unless...
An idea occurred to him and he grabbed his phone again. This time he pulled up Google and started tapping the keys.
Survival rates of babies born at 25 weeks.
He found a website with the statistics and quickly scanned the information on the screen.
Fifty percent. Fifty-fifty.
He made up his mind. Fifty fifty was fair enough odds. He'd take that. He pulled up his speed dial and pressed Mr. Baring-Jones' number.
*****
"You need to deliver the baby now." Ged glared at the consultant, defying him to argue.
Mr. Baring-Jones wasn't convinced. He had agreed to cancel his appointments for the rest of the day and had just arrived at the hospital in Newcastle. Ged faced him now across Janey's bed in intensive care.
The doctor plastered on his sympathetic expression. "Mr. Twyfford, Ged... I'm so sorry about what's happened to Jane, but—"
"Now," growled Ged. "You have to do it now."
"It's too early. If we wait, even
just a couple of weeks, the chances of the child surviving would be that much greater."
Ged shook his head. "Now. Do. It. Now."
The doctor stared back, his medical expertise, ethics, the wisdom and experience gained through years of medical practice warring with the simple compulsion Ged had planted in his mind. In the end, there was no contest.
"Very well. We'll do it now." He strode to the door. "Nurse. I'll need a theatre in obstetrics straight away, and a high dependency cot in the special care baby unit."
Ged sank into the plastic hospital chair behind him. Relief and dread overwhelmed him as he groped among the spaghetti of tubes and wires for Janey's hand.
"Forgive me, sweetheart. It's a risk worth taking though. It just has to be."
*****
Gowned and masked, Ged stood motionless in the corner of the operating theatre as Mr. Baring-Jones did his work. It was a quick procedure, and minutes after they wheeled Jane in on a trolley the tiny, still and utterly silent form of their baby emerged into the bright, clinical light of a world she was not yet ready to face. It was done anyway, and Ged's stomach roiled at the sight of this fragile scrap of humanity he had taken it upon himself to play God with. The theatre nurse wrapped the baby in a clean white blanket and briefly held her in front of Ged’s face for him to say his ‘hellos’ before she was whisked away into an incubator.
She was small, so very, very small.
Self-doubt would help none of them now. Ged stiffened and stepped forward to stroke the hair which fanned out behind Janey's head. Most of her face was covered with swathes of bandages, just the point of her chin visible. Ged leaned over to kiss that part he could see, then he thanked Mr. Baring-Jones for his help. The doctor offered him a distracted nod as he bent to complete the task before him. It occurred to Ged to wonder if he would take quite the same level of care over Janey that he undoubtedly would if he believed his patient stood a chance of survival.
Best not to go there. It was irrelevant anyway. Soon, his Janey would be perfect again.
Ged glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. It was almost eight thirty in the evening. He had just ninety minutes left before that window started to close.
He forced himself to remain still and quiet for fifteen of those precious minutes as the doctor dealt with the afterbirth, then closed the incision across Janey's abdomen. Then Janey was wheeled into the recovery room outside the theatre, though not for long. Recovery was not what any of this was about, at least not as far as the hospital staff were concerned. Ten minutes later Janey was back in the private room off Intensive Care, her tubes and lines reattached. Ged thanked the nurses for their help and asked to be alone with his wife.
The moment the door clicked shut behind the last one, he went to work.
Ged started by closing the blinds to the ward beyond. He needed no prying eyes for this. Next he drew back the thin coverlet which the nurse had tucked in around Janey's unresponsive form and he deposited that on the floor. She was naked beneath, apart from the large dressing which now covered her belly. His next task was to disconnect the tangle of wiring and gadgetry, but he deferred that. The sudden cessation of data would bring the medics running and even though he could probably control them, he'd prefer not to have the hassle.
"How's it going?"
Ged looked up when he heard the soft voice beside him. Serena smiled at him and took his hand. "Have you started yet?"
He shook his head. "We just got back."
"Back? Where from?"
"Theatre. I... I made them deliver the baby now. At least she has a chance." Fifty-fifty, he reminded himself. He'd taken bigger gambles in his time, though always with his own life, never anyone else's.
"Good call. I did think of that, after we spoke. I tried to ring you back."
"No phones allowed in here."
"Right. So I thought it best to get here. We'd have arrived sooner but we had to make two stops, one in the Azores and another on the USS George Washington."
"No one saw you?"
She snorted. "Of course not. It wasn't bad going, really. James is outside. He'll make sure no one comes into this room, for any reason at all."
"Good. In that case, let's get this stuff off her."
Together they disconnected and removed the tubes, and started to turn off the machines. When Ged pulled out the final plug disconnecting Jane's ventilator, her breathing slowed quickly, and stopped within a few seconds. Both Ged and Serena turned at the sound of voices outside the door, but the fuss soon died down. James was on it, evidently.
"Okay. The sooner the better now, while she still has a heartbeat, to move the new DNA through her bloodstream. You know what to do?"
Ged gave a curt nod. He was never a prolific taker of human souls, but he'd turned a few in his time. Never one that mattered to him as this one did though. But Serena was right, he had no time to lose. He could discern the weakening of Janey's heartbeat, her pulse faltering, ready to fail. He bent over the bed to select his spot on her neck.
The artery pulsed under his gentle fingers. There. He opened his mouth, lowered his fangs, and sank them deep into the pale skin.
Janey jerked, the first autonomous response since her injury. She lay still, though, as Ged pumped his own blood into her body to mingle with hers. A few drops would generally be sufficient, but he was generous. No half measures for his Janey. At last, satisfied, he straightened.
Two bright rivulets of blood streamed from the puncture wounds on her neck, but the flow soon stopped. The wounds were closing and already he believed he could see her pallid complexion brightening. Was it his imagination? He looked to Serena for confirmation.
She nodded. "It's working. Remove the bandages from her face."
Ged did so, and flinched at the sight of her ravaged features.
"Will she regain the sight in that eye?" he whispered.
"Yes. Everything will be fine, repaired, good as new. Better, even."
Ged stroked Janey's thin hand as he and Serena witnessed the transformation. It was a sight Ged saw rarely, but it never failed to awe him. First her colour deepened to a more normal hue, then she gave a huge shudder as her lungs reinflated and she drew her first independent breath. Her heart stopped, never again to restart, but she had no further need of it. The vampire DNA was flooding her system now, taking over all her systems and organs, restoring every part of her to premium good health.
Her recent injuries were the last to be repaired, but as the two vampires stood over her, a third was born. Jane's crushed skull reshaped, the eye that she had lost regenerated behind her eyelids, now softening and shrinking back to their usual state. The bruises and lacerations healed, the grotesque, twisted expression gave way to Jane's usual quiet smile.
"Before she regains consciousness it would be better to remove her from here, get her to a place where we can control the environment. New turnlings are so vulnerable..."
Ged nodded. Sunlight, especially, was dangerous to new vampires, and the first feeding would be traumatic to say the least.
"My house," agreed Ged. He lifted Janey from the hospital bed and stood with her in his arms. He gazed down at her, willed her to open her eyes, to look at him and tell him it was all okay after all. He paused, looked across at his friend. "Will you take her, Serena? I have somewhere else I need to be."
"Of course. She'll want news as soon as she wakes up and that won't be long now. Go, visit your daughter. I'll take care of Jane."
Ged handed his wife to the other vampire who, despite her diminutive stature, had no problem at all in bearing Jane's weight. Ged stepped back, and raised one hand in silent salute as Serena and his wife disappeared before his eyes.
He strode to the door and opened it to find James outside explaining to a group of anxious looking nurses and the casualty consultant that Mrs. Twyfford had died and been removed to the mortuary. Ged added his powers of persuasion to James's, and soon the medical team dispersed about their other more pressing duties.<
br />
"Serena took Janey home to Roseworth. I'll be there soon, but first I wanted to visit the baby unit."
"Do you want company?"
"No, I'm fine. But Serena might need you. When Jane comes round she's going to take a lot of managing."
"Okay. See you soon." He, too, disappeared into the ether.
Ged opted to make his way to the special care baby unit the hard way. He pressed the bell seeking entry and was admitted by a middle-aged nurse in a plastic apron.
"A baby girl was brought in a few minutes ago. She's very tiny..."
The nurse seemed to know exactly who he meant, though as Ged reflected on his words he realised all the patients here were tiny. The nurse led him to a glass enclosed incubator which contained his minuscule baby daughter.
"Here she is, baby Twyfford. Do you have a name for her?"
Ged shook his head as he gazed in rapt wonder at the perfect little girl before him.
"She's beautiful. But so tiny..."
"She weighs almost two pounds. She's small, but not the smallest I've known, not by any means."
"Is she... I mean, will she...?"
"She's early. Very early and she can't breathe on her own yet. We wouldn't expect her to in any case, not for a couple of weeks or so. Other than that, she's doing well. We have to hope she doesn't develop any infections, and no other underlying complications appear. But as long as they don't, she has a decent chance.”
The nurse took a few moments to scuttle around the incubator, checking dials and jotting notes onto a clipboard. When she finished she offered Ged a reassuring smile. “My name's Abigail and I'm the nurse assigned to take care of this little one. I’ll be with her almost all the time and you can contact me whenever you like." She handed him a small card with the phone number of the unit and her personal mobile number on it. "You're welcome to come here too, spend as much time as you like with her. You'll be able to feed her if you like, change her nappy."
"Oh." Ged grimaced. "Now?"
"No, not yet. But soon, I expect."
"I see. Thank you."
"Would you like me to find you a chair, Mr. Twyfford?"
"It's Ged. And no, not this time. I can't stay. My wife..."
