“They always stare at you,” he said. “It’s all that lovey-dovey Stockholm Syndrome crap you flood their heads with.”
“It’s different. It’s like they… notice.”
He slid his hands up to hold her bare shoulders, and she didn’t flinch away. Must be hormones. It had to be. “After. After we go to New Amsterdam, we’ll scrub them all. Take on a whole new group. No one will ever remember.”
“Good.”
She slid off and settled next to him, facing the wall. Carl turned over and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll fix this,” he whispered.
“Good,” she said again. “You broke it.”
A few moments passed in silence. He thought she was asleep and startled a bit when she said, “How long until we leave for New Amsterdam?”
“Not for a while. I’ll tell you when we need to start getting ready to move.”
“You’ll know?”
“I’ll know.”
She went quiet again. After a few minutes, her breathing evened out. Lucky her, Carl thought. He hadn’t slept in weeks.
***
For how attuned he was to Kate—every little shift she made, every fluctuation of mood—this was a big thing to miss.
She pushed away her plate, completely untouched. “Not hungry?” he asked, still shoveling food in. It wouldn’t be out of character for her to refuse food. The only reason he pushed it was… for it. “You skipped breakfast too.”
“Indigestion.” Admitting a weakness was no longer a sign of poor character. To Carl’s great relief, she’d accepted the fact that it (they never said the word, never would) was going to change her, and there was nothing she could do about it. She put any perceived flaws in the category of “not her fault” and moved on. “It’s been happening all day.”
Carl’s fork hung in midair. He was such an idiot! Of course Kate’s ability to simply ignore pain would keep her from noticing the beginnings of labor. He should’ve known.
Slowly, so he wouldn’t tip her off that anything was amiss, he put his fork down and moved back from the table. “We should get you to the bedroom.” He kept his voice calm. Firm but calm.
“I’m not tired,” she said, then stopped. She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “I am tired. I’ve been exhausted for months, but it’s different today.”
Carl stood up and pressed a hand to her swollen stomach. The hard tightening of muscles met him. She was contracting right now. “We need to get to the bedroom,” he whispered.
“Why?” she asked. Eyes wide, she looked around the room, anywhere but Carl’s face.
He closed his hand around her elbow and guided her. She followed, but her steps were short and slow. It hadn’t caught up yet.
“You’ll be more comfortable in there,” he said.
A sharp hiss slid through her teeth and she lashed out to grab his arm, fingernails digging in like talons. “It’s happening now?” she shrieked.
Carl moved so he was holding her hips. He kept guiding her to the bedroom. “Yes,” he said. “The bed will be better.” She needed to move. The first stages of labor could last for a long time, but the quicker he got her in place, the easier everything would go. For both of them.
She came to a complete stop. “The bed—”
“Kate!” Carl shouted. His hands moved to grab her head, bracketing her face, so she could only look at him. “You need to listen to me! I told you I’d fix this. Now let me fix it.”
It wasn’t her fault. She’d always been… not quite complete. Kate could fake any emotion on any day, but she was shit at processing her own. He wasn’t much better. The detached psychopath façade was there to keep her from having to deal with the incomplete emotions she didn’t understand. When she couldn’t put her mask up, she nearly stopped functioning. He’d known it all their lives and tried to adjust accordingly, but even he couldn’t plan for every situation. Everything was just one more radical to deal with.
“Alright,” she whispered.
Carl didn’t have time to thank any form of luck watching over them. He herded her into the bedroom and went to work. He stripped the sheets from the bed and piled a few more pillows at the head.
When he reached for her, she stepped back and shook her head. “The mess—”
“We’re going to burn this place to the ground with the minions inside,” he said. “I don’t care about a ruined mattress.”
This time, when he grabbed her arm, she didn’t pull away. She let him guide her to the bed and settle her in the nest of pillows.
As Carl got everything set up—blankets, water, all the other things his midwife contact told him he’d need—he ignored the fingers of doubt clawing at the back of his mind. When everything was finally together, and it turned into a waiting game, those thoughts became harder to ignore.
Kate was never so compliant. She went along with his plans, sure, but never without some degree of complaint. When it was her plan, nothing short of a Heaven-sent disaster could talk her out of it. This was most decidedly Carl’s plan. She should’ve been fighting it tooth and nail for months. He hadn’t heard a peep out of her since she crawled back into their bed.
Hormones, he told himself. As her fingers reached for him and pulled him close, demanding the touch of his skin she usually pushed away. Hormones. Hormones didn’t seem like a good enough explanation anymore. Not when he was close enough to see the wetness rising in her eyes.
“Shush,” he whispered into her hair. “It’s okay.”
Hours passed slower than Carl thought possible. Time bent into some horrible, cruel shape where every silently ticking never-ending second mocked him. This was his choice; he’d tricked her; he’d brought this. Now he had to pay for it watching every agonizingly slow second of her suffering. He didn’t think he would forget Kate’s screams until the day he died. He’d never heard her scream before. Not like this.
The screams of the baby joined hers, and it was finally over. Carl held the naked, bloody infant in his hands, and Kate grew quiet.
Her eyes were locked, staring at the wall. He tried to quiet the baby, every one of its little wails sending shivers through Kate.
“Drown it,” she whispered to the wall. “Throw it in the river. Smother it. I don’t care.”
“Hey,” he whispered. Setting the baby in the arms of a waiting minion, Carl climbed onto the bed with her. The blood-soaked and soiled sheets stained his clothes and squished as he moved. He didn’t care.
“What did we say?” he asked. “We can’t have a body turn up. Even if there is no way to connect us, that’s still a risk we can’t afford. Rule number nine: no unnecessary risks.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours. The minions will take care of you.” Knowing it was probably the last time she’d let him, Carl leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She nodded, then went back to staring at the wall.
He took the baby from the minion and left.
***
It didn’t take him long to find a fire station. With all of his experience and all the jobs they’d pulled, he’d never felt so conspicuous as he did then. Carrying a baby in a basket, looking for a way to get rid of it. Legally. The irony of this as the only legal thing he’d ever done in his life was not lost on him.
He set the basket on the doorstep and did one last check to make sure everything was there. Letter, extra blanket, diapers, bottles, kid. Yup, everything.
He stood on the sidewalk for a moment and took a breath, then looked down at the baby. He didn’t know much about it. For as hard as he tried to keep this child alive, he hadn’t really noticed much. Kate was always his priority.
It was a girl, and the wispy black hair on her head showed she favored his genetics more than Kate’s blonde. Now that he was looking, she was actually kind of cute. In a squished newborn sort of way. She would definitely have powers. He’d said so in the letter.
For a newborn, she was strangely still. He reached in to check if she was breathing. Yes, still alive.
Just sleeping. Was it normal for newborns to sleep so much? He never researched it. He looked up any and all legal problems he might encounter and everything to get them through the birth, but the baby’s actual behavior was a mystery. Best to take care of it before he lost his nerve.
He looked at the firehouse and sighed. “I’m standing here with an infant in a basket,” he whispered to himself.
One more breath, and he was ready. He rang the bell. A moment later, the door opened, and a man smiled out at him. He was young, probably a new recruit. Would he even know what to do with this situation?
“Can I help you?” he asked.
Carl held the basket out to him. “Under New Amsterdam Safe Haven laws, I’m turning this child over to you. She was born at seven thirty three tonight and hasn’t been harmed in any way. I am her biological father. Her biological mother and I both renounce our parental right over her.”
The man looked at Carl for a brief second before turning his attention to the basket. He took it. The baby gurgled at the shift but didn’t cry.
Carl pulled a different note out of his pocket and opened it, showing it to the fireman. “This is a letter of our intent, signed by myself and her biological mother.” Signed with their real names. Names that led nowhere, but he was determined to do everything right. “There should be no legal issue of the non-acting parent coming back to look for her. We’re both acting here.” He tucked the note in the basket with the other letter.
The fireman lifted the blanket to take a look at the baby and caught sight of the supplies. His brow furrowed. “You have a bottle in here,” he whispered to Carl. “You have extra blankets and diapers. You’re prepared. You planned for her.” He looked up. “Why are you giving her up if you planned for her?”
Carl’s jaw tightened. “It’s supposed to be no questions asked,” he said.
The man nodded. “Right. Sorry.”
He wanted to walk away. The authorities had the information. They had the baby. All Carl had to do was walk away. He’d done his job. He was done.
The words found their way out. “Our life isn’t... good. For a baby. It isn’t safe.” He swiped a hand across his eyes and sighed again. “Most of the time, it isn’t even safe for us.”
“If it’s a question of your situation,” the very young man said, “the city has a lot of resources to help people. Giving her up isn’t the only option. Adoption would be better. Leaving her here makes her a ward of the state.”
Carl let his hand drop and fixed him with a glare. It was meant to be a glare, yet it came out more tired than anything. He was so deep down bone tired, and now he just wanted it—needed it—to end. “I’m never going to see you again. I don’t feel the least bit guilty telling you.
“Her mother and me rob banks for a living. We knock over jewelry stores. We break into museums to steal priceless artifacts, and we sell it all to the highest bidder,” he said. “You’re trying to do the right thing. I understand. I am too.” His voice softened. “She has no life with us.”
Carl gave the man a minute to digest the words. The fireman took a breath. Then another. Then he looked up at Carl. “People can change,” he whispered. “Kids change everything. Suddenly, it’s not about you anymore, and that scares some people. Your first instinct might be to get rid of her, so you can go on as you have been. A year down the road… or less… and you might start to regret. Usually, we’re worried the other parent is unwilling and will try and come back for the baby when there’s no way to find her. Right now it seems like you’re not on board. The law says thirty days,” he said. “She’s less than an hour old. Why not think about it for a little longer?”
Carl would not look at him. The tiny pink baby, barely visible with all her blankets, took his whole attention. He swallowed hard and tried to pull his eyes away. But he didn’t want to.
“You’re never going to see me again,” the fireman said. “Why not tell me?”
“I want her,” Carl said. So soft, he didn’t think he said it at all. “I want her so much. I never thought it would feel like this. But I can’t have her.” He took a steadying breath and willed the sting behind his eyes to disappear.
“Kate is… not stable.” The wrongness of using her name in front of a stranger while admitting his long-held fears she was more than just criminally insane canceled each other out. The words came, held back by nothing except his ability to speak quickly enough. Half the firehouse must be wondering what was happening at the door, and they would investigate soon. He needed to wrap it up.
“The first thing she said after the baby was born was ‘drown it.’ I’ve been fighting to make sure this baby was born in the first place, and the first thing she wanted to do was kill her. Our lives are dangerous, but no one is more dangerous to this child than her mother.”
A spew of raw emotion ran from Carl’s mouth, and he couldn’t stop it. Feelings he’d never thought he’d have came boiling to the surface. “I’m used to life not being about me. Ever since I met Kate. It’s always about her needs, about what she wants to do, about what new scheme she has for us. That’s fine. I’ve never wanted anything from life.” His voice softened. “I never wanted anything until I saw this baby, and now I can’t have her.
“You try to tell me kids change everything, and if I put her before me, I’ll see the joys of parenting. I am putting her before me! This is the least selfish thing I’ve ever done for another human being. She stays with me: she dies. I give her up: she has a future.” He took a step back, giving his final word on the matter.
Baby basket in hand, the fireman nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Anything else I need to know?”
“She’ll have powers,” Carl said. The flat, separated dispassion was back, and he was glad for it. He always prided himself on being professional in any situation and getting back to that felt normal. “I don’t know what they’ll be, but they’ll be strong. The letter says as much.”
The fireman reached for the envelope. Carl’s sharp voice brought him to a stop. “The message is for her adoptive parents,” he snapped. “Not her foster parents or her social worker. Her adoptive parents. The people who will care for her the rest of her life.”
“Can I ask what’s in it?” When Carl didn’t answer, the fireman sighed. “What else haven’t you told me tonight?”
Carl shrugged. He had a point. “An account number. Sort of a trust fund. Five hundred dollars a month to help with any expenses. When she turns twenty-five, the rest of the money is hers.”
“Generous.”
Carl shrugged again. “We rob banks, remember? I can afford to stick a million in an account for her.”
“I’ll hold onto the letter. Ask social services to tell me when she’s adopted, and then I’ll give it directly to her parents,” he said.
Carl could spot greed a mile off, and he knew this man had none. He was trying to do the right thing by an abandoned baby. Carl appreciated it. “Thank you,” he said.
Without another word, he turned and walked away. Back to Kate. He studiously would not let himself think about anything he just did. The baby was safe and out of their lives. It was all that mattered. If the back of his eyes still stung, well he’d just have to get blind drunk at the first opportunity.
***
If he took a little longer on the way home, no one would fault him. In fact, no one would know. With any luck Kate would be deep asleep after all her labor and wouldn’t notice a damn thing.
When he opened the warehouse door and stepped inside, the cold shiver of “something wrong” shot through him. The minion he left with Kate was sitting at the table across the room, not watching her like he’d been told. Even if she ordered him away, he would be pacing outside her door. In a sick, obsessive way, they loved her, and not one of them would leave her unattended when Carl was out.
“What are you doing here?” Carl barked at him. “You’re supposed to be watching her!”
He grabbed the man’s shoulder. The limp, lifeless body to
ppled out of the chair and onto the floor. Carl jumped out of the way before regaining his composure. Of all the likely possibilities, she probably did this. She hated waiting, and killing off the minion would help pass the time while Carl was out. On the extremely off chance something else went down while he was away…
“Kate!” he shouted into the warehouse. “Where are you?”
“Here.”
Carl jumped again. He turned, following her voice. She stood in the bedroom door, dressed in fresh clothes. Through the doorway, he could see another body.
“You killed them already?”
She shrugged, showing zero signs of having given birth in the past three hours. “I was bored.”
“You shouldn’t be killing anything in your condition. You should be resting.”
“You made me a promise,” she said. “You will not make me wait to collect on it.”
Ah, the plan. Right. “You’ve already scrubbed the minions,” he said, stepping towards her and taking her hands in his. “After you’re fit to move, we’ll burn the hideout and leave. Until then, you need to rest. You’re not supposed to have too much activity right after… Right after.”
She stepped back and slipped out of his grip. “That isn’t the promise I’m talking about. You said no one would know. No one would remember. You haven’t made it so.”
Carl did a quick mental tally. Twenty minions beheaded and buried before they left; three more gutted after they settled in here; and the last two killed by Kate while he was out. Should be everyone.
“No one remembers,” he said slowly. “All the minions are dead. It’s only us now.”
“Exactly.”
He waited for her to continue. But when she stood there with those too serious eyes that never seemed quite human enough, a cold lump settled deep in his stomach. “You want me to…” he couldn’t finish. It was too unthinkable.
“I can’t remember. I simply can’t know.” She stepped forward and grabbed his hands, pulling them to her face. “Take it from me. Make me forget!”
He tore himself away. Her nails dug into his skin, raising stinging red trails across his knuckles. “Are you out of your mind?” he yelled back. “What the hell am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to explain why it feels like you’ve been gutted? Or how you missed nine months! Or why we’re in a hideout you’ve never seen before, with two dead minions! It’ll never work!”
Powerless Against You Page 21
