Outcast: A Corporation Novel (The Corporation)

by RaeLynn Fry

  “No, not yet.”

  “Good, then you can leave and do so. And never talk about this room again. To me or anyone else.” She herds me towards the ladder and all but shoves me up the rungs.

  “Eta, I can help you down here,” I say as I climb up. I crawl out of the hole and look back in from my hands and knees. “I might—”

  “Put the rug back over,” she says, and slams the door shut. I hear her slide a lock into place.

  I can't help but chuckle as I lay the rug down, covering the sliver of light. I shake my head with a smile, wishing I'd known Eta in her younger years. I have a feeling she would have given the Corporation and my father a run for their money. Who am I kidding? She still is.

  Day two

  Ethan

  My back is pressed up against the cold, rusty metal of the trash bin. I can feel the artificial chill of its skin through my thin shirt. My head is getting light, my heart is punching the inside of my chest, my breath is coming in quick gasps.

  They're coming for me. I can't hide. I can never hide. Wherever I go, they find me. I yank my bent knees into my ribcage, the rounded bones pressing into my thighs, and I bury my face into my kneecaps.

  Through the pounding in my ears, I can hear the crunch of gravel under boots as someone approaches my hiding spot. I can feel the heat from their body as they stand in front of me, but they don't say anything. They don't move.

  I lift my head up an inch, looking up through the hair that's fallen in front of my eyes. It's a smaller frame than I was expecting. Shorter and thinner. I look up a little more. A girl stands before me. It's a younger Karis. Her arms are stiff by her side, her mouth set in a tight line.

  “You're a fool,” she says to me. “Hiding here like the little boy you are.” She drops down to my level, so fast I barely register the movement. “They're coming, and they're going to find you.”

  “Who?” I ask, in a voice shrill with panic. “Who am I hiding from?”

  Like a breeze blowing through smoke, Karis is gone. In her place are two men. They're large, and they lurch in their movements. Their arms and faces are smeared with dirt and what looks like streaks of blood. Their eyes are two pits of onyx and they have no mouths.

  I push myself further into the dumpster, but there is no safety there. I'm trapped.

  I bolt upright, drenched in cold sweat, panting to catch my breath, trying to make sense of what the hell I just went through. Eta is by my side with a cup of hot tea.

  “Drink this,” she says, as she pushes the worn, chipped mug into my tremoring hands. She has to hold it there for a second before my fingers have enough sense to curl around the warmth.

  I take a sip in an automated fashion. I've gotten used to the bitter bite of the concoction. Surprisingly, it has a sweet after taste. Almost immediately, my head starts to get groggy—a side effect of the tea, Eta says. One thing I look forward to, though, is the promise of the remaining night hours that will pass without any thoughts or colors—just a black void filled with blessed cotton.

  “Can’t you give me the tea before, to prevent the dreams?” I take a deep drink of the hot liquid. I'm curious about them, though. Why are they starting now?

  “It’s doesn’t work that way.”

  “There was more, this time,” I say. I hand the cup back. She inspects it to make sure I've had enough. Satisfied, she looks at me with a spark of interest in her old eyes.

  “More?”

  I nod, my eyes already getting heavy. “I saw faces.” I watch her reaction, her features are stone. Not even one of her deep wrinkles shifts.

  “Any you recognize?”

  “It was a dream, Eta.”

  “All dreams are significant, no matter how small or big. Dreams are the mind's way of working out problems, resetting what we've done for the day, drudging up long forgotten memories. It’s how the brain protects itself.”

  I've learned it’s useless to argue with her. “No, no familiar faces.” I lay back down on my pillow; my head feeling like the weight of the world is crushing it. I play the dream over again in my mind, but it's already starting to slip away. “The same dark alley. But now the hands that grab me are connected to men’s faces, rough and angry. Their eyes are dark and they have no mouths.” I take a breath. I can feel myself being carried away from my bedroom on a soothing tide of sleep.

  “No mouths,” I hear Eta say, far, far away.

  I don't know how long the tea takes me out for, but when I wake again, it's near impossible for my brain to think in a straight line. My mind and eyes are so heavy with manufactured exhaustion and all I want to do is forget about the world around me and slip back into the murky darkness I came from, but a low rumbling seeps through the cracks around my bedroom door. Two different pitches, like two different people talking. I try to make out the words, but my brain refuses to filter the murmurs into anything coherent.

  I get up, to go and see who’s over at this hour, but my limbs don’t want to obey. With great effort, I drag my legs, each weighing a hundred pounds at least, over the edge of the bed. I roll my torso next and catch myself before I fall to the floor. The sudden movement and jar to my body wake me up a little more. I shuffle over to my shoes, slip my feet in, and stifle a yawn. My eyes are barely open, but with each determined movement, my mind wakes more.

  I open the door and the voices become clearer. A young girl is speaking urgently to Eta, and Eta is trying to remain patient to get information from the hysterical visitor.

  “Slow down,” Eta says, with enough snap to let it be known she means business. “When did it start happening?”

  “After supper,” the girl says breathlessly. She's just inside the door, bundled up, cheeks red. Her eyes are wide as they flit in my direction. “I think they hurt her real bad.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” Eta says, more to herself. But the girl hears and lets out a squeak of a gasp. Eta reaches out to pat the girl’s hair. “It's okay, Jules. Every woman goes through this. Your mom went through it with you, and now she's going through it again with your baby brother or sister. She'll be fine.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise. Now run along home and tell your daddy I'm right behind you. Tell him to have clean sheets ready, hot water, warm towels. Go.”

  Jules nods and bolts out the door. Eta turns around, and clutches at her chest when she sees me. She frowns a little before she smoothes her shirt back out. “You're up. Good. You can help me, then.” She moves around in a flurry, grabbing her coat and scarf and duster. My sluggish head has a hard time following her movements around the room. I have to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to dispel the pinch behind them.

  “Don't just stand there, grab my bag and get your clothes on. This baby's coming whether we're there or not. And I'd prefer to be there and help it along. Mrs. Aarnok’s delivery with Jules was a difficult one, and I have a feeling this one will be the same. It’s been a hard pregnancy for her.”

  “But you told Jules—”

  “To a seven-year-old, I said her mom would be just fine. To a grown man, I'm saying to light a fire because we have a baby to deliver. Now move!”

  I race upstairs and get my clothes on. Then I hurry to the cabinet in the kitchen and grab her bags. One for birthing and one for a little bit of everything. You never know what you'll need. She nods when she sees both of my hands full. I set them down and quickly put on my duster and wrap my scarf around my neck and mouth. By the time I pick up the bags again, Eta is already out the door and down the street. I hurry through the door and shut it behind me.

  When the cool night air hits me, I'm fully awake, no residue of the tea remains. The moon is low in the sky, the night is almost over. Dawn will be approaching soon, probably in the next few hours.

  When I catch up to Eta, she starts barking out instructions. “You've never been to a birthing, have you?” I don't get to answer. “They can be messy and scary for the men. Do what I tell you, exactly when I tell you to. Don't ask que
stions, don't hesitate. Most importantly, don't look. I can't be caring for two patients tonight. Understand?”

  “I understand.”

  We travel the rest of the way to the Aarnok's house in silence. I know immediately which one is theirs because of the soft glow of candle light in their front window. We walk through the door without knocking and up the stairs into a scene I’m completely unprepared for, and the urge to flee is a hard one to fight.

  A pregnant woman is standing, leaning on a large man. Her head is buried into his neck while she grasps his hand, turning her knuckles white and his hand a bright shade of red. They’re swaying back and forth slowly and she’s letting out some very guttural, low moans that, quite frankly, scare the wits out of me.

  I scan the room and find little Jules sitting in a dark corner, her knees hugged to her chest. She looks terrified and I conclude, in that instant, that this is no place for a little girl. Or a grown man.

  “Thank goodness you're here,” Mr. Aarnok says.

  “How far apart are the contractions?” Eta motions for me to put her bags on a nearby table as she shrugs off her coat and scarf.

  “A couple of minutes, I think.”

  Mrs. Aarnok lets out a scream of what I can safely assume is excruciating pain. I freeze and look to Jules. Her face is buried in her legs.

  “Ethan,” Eta barks, “Come help Mr. Aarnok lower her onto the bed. Sofi, we're going to lay you on your back now. Try not to fight us.”

  I put my arm under Sofi’s right one and the husband does the same on her left. We grab under her knees, and at the same time, lift her up. She moans in pain again and we move her as quickly as possible onto the bed, her back and head propped up with pillows and rolled up blankets. As soon as she’s situated, I drop back to stay out of the way. Jules and I exchange the same look. We'd rather be anywhere but here, right now.

  Eta drapes a sheet over Sofi's bent knees. She washes her hands in the boiled water and soap and looks underneath the covering for a moment and comes up, quietly cursing. “You should have called me sooner, Dirk.”

  He’s holding Sofi's hand, stroking her sweat soaked hair. Sofi's face is pinched in concentration. “I wanted to, but Sofi said to wait. She said it wasn't anything she couldn't handle herself.”

  “Fools.” Eta rummages through her bag to grab supplies. She washes her hands again and proceeds with her scolding. “I'm glad you had the sense to send Jules when you did, otherwise, it would have been a useless trip for me.” The look of horror on Dirk's face is enough to soften Eta. A little. I’ve learned she doesn’t exactly have a delicate bedside manner. “She'll be fine, but if you'd waited any longer, there could have been a far different outcome.”

  “Tell me what's going on,” Sofi grinds out. She was breathing funny, in a forced puff sort of way.

  “The baby is coming.”

  “I can tell that much on my own.” Sofi lets out another long groan. “But this doesn’t feel like last time. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “That’s because it isn’t. The little one is breeched.” There’s a strangled sound from both parents. Eta glances over her shoulder at me. “Feet first,” she explains. “I'm going to need your help, Ethan.”

  I stand up, not wanting to do what it is I’m too afraid to ask her about.

  “I'm going to need you to try and turn the babe. Up at Sofi’s stomach, I need you to start trying to push the baby around. Gently. If we can’t turn Baby, I’m going to have to cut Sofi open to get Babe out safely.”

  “How do I—”

  “Sofi, I need you to relax; breathe deep, and don't fight what Ethan's doing.” Sofi nods. “Ethan I need you to put your hands on her stomach, one on each side. Press down gently and pretend that you're turning a lid of a barrel, counter—clockwise.”

  I nod my understanding and lay my hands on the rough fabric of her dress. “Under her clothes, Ethan. It's best to be touching the skin.”

  My eyes dart to Sofi's and she gives me a tight nod through her contractions. I swallow and gently lift her dress up and over her belly, her knees still covered by the sheet. I give an apologetic glance in Dirk’s direction.

  I've exposed a bloated, giant, round stomach. The skin is stretched taut and her belly button protrudes like a small knob. I rub my hands together quickly to try and warm them and then do what Eta told me to. I feel Sofi’s stomach tighten. “You need to relax,” I say gently. “I can't do this if you're fighting me.”

  Dirk leans over and starts to sing softly in her ear. I see Jules come up behind her dad and reach out to gently stroke her mother's arm. She joins the song with a hum in her high voice. It does the trick. I feel Sofi start to relax.

  “Try it again,” Eta says to me. I do as she instructs and after about half a dozen turns, she motions for me to stop. She disappears under the sheet again. “Good, this is good. You're baby has turned, Sofi, and has descended all the way. Are you ready to push?”

  Sofi nods. “Dirk, hold on to one of her legs; Ethan, hold onto the other.” My shock doesn't have time to voice any objection, because Sofi is grabbing onto my arm and squeezing, her foot in the center of my hand, as Eta says, “One, two, push!” I brace myself and try to be as much of a solid source as I can to push against. Before I know it, I'm caught up in the moment. My fear and ignorance are replaced by a sense of excitement and a feeling of this all being second nature to me.

  “You're doing great,” I say, although I have no idea if she is or not. It just seems like the right thing to say. Eta glances up at me with an approving smirk before she goes back under the sheet. “Again, Sofi.”

  There are a total of three pushes for the baby to come out, but I can tell instantly that something’s wrong. The air of relief doesn’t fill the room. The fear and danger from before is still here. But more importantly, there’s only silence coming from the baby. “Ethan, my bag. Get me the suction.”

  I let go of Sofi and scramble for the bag, I find the suction on top and bring it to Eta. She's holding a small, blue body in her hands. The baby’s not breathing, the cord dangling from around its neck.

  “What's going on?” Sofi says, too relieved that the baby's out to know she's not yet out of the woods.

  “Everything's fine, my dear, just cleaning babe up. You have a beautiful little boy.” Eta rotates the baby to the side and quickly untangles the cord. She motions for me to suck out his mouth. I stick the contraption into the side of his mouth and squeeze. Nothing happens. The baby still isn't breathing.

  “Why isn't he crying?” Sofi says in a soft panic.

  Dirk tries to sooth her with a soft shushing sound.

  “It's nothing to be concerned about.” But I can see the worry in the way Eta’s hands move. She's laid the little boy on the bed at the mother's feet, sheet protecting it from view. She presses gently onto the skin of the torso. When she pulls her finger away, the skin goes from white, to pink, back to a purplish blue. She starts to rub the chest of the baby, getting the blood to circulate.

  The seconds between freeing the cord and the baby's first breath are the longest of my life, and tears prick the backs of my eyes when his little face finally scrunches up and he takes his first breath of life, expelling it with a victorious cry. Eta wipes him down with a clean, wet towel and bundles him tightly, handing him to a crying Sofi and a smiling Dirk.

  Sofi clutches onto Eta's forearm before she can move away. “We want to name him Kei,” she says, a sad smile turning her lips up. Eta clenches every muscle in her body, and I swear she even stops breathing for a second.

  She lets go and Eta reaches up and quickly wipes a tear from each eye. “That would be nice,” she says, and turns away. I want to ask what that was about, but I know deep in my bones I shouldn’t.

  We stay long enough to clean up, measure, and monitor the vitals of Sofi and little Kei. When Eta is satisfied that everything is normal, we say our goodbyes and head out into a brand new day.

  Maybe it's the fact I just witnessed life being
brought forth into the world, but I know this is going to be a great day. I head back to the house with a smile bigger than my face can hold.

  ७

  Dawn is still about an hour away and the night has grown colder, as it always does right before the sun rises.

  “You did well in there,” Eta says. Her praise doesn’t come freely, so I take it with great sincerity.

  “Thank you. It was...” I trail off, unable to find the right words to express what the entire night meant to me.

  “Miraculous?”

  I decide the word will do. “Yes, it was. Would the baby have died if you hadn’t been there to turn him?”

  “More than likely. Sofi, too. Birthing may be natural, but it can be a very unsavory business.”

  “Why do women risk the—?” Something up ahead catches my eye. A dark bulging lump lies directly in our path. I reach my arm out to block Eta’s progress. My stillness says everything to her it needs to.

  “What is it? What do you see?”

  “There's something large up ahead,” I whisper. I look around, my eyes darting back and forth, straining through the shadows to identify any possible trap, while keeping the rest of my body rigid. We’re both silent animals, wary of a lurking predator. I think we’re alone. I lower my arm and we creep closer. I tell myself it's not anything terribly sinister. But that doesn't mean it's completely safe, either.

  The watery light from the street lamp across the road brings into focus abstract features. One thing stands out without confusion, though. “It's a person,” I say, a bit shocked.

  Eta goes into Medic mode. “Well, hurry up. They might need our help. Get a move on.” She steps past me, expecting me to follow suit.

  Eta stoops over the large lump and buries her fingers into the folds of a fat neck. It's a man, the short cropped hair tells me that much, but all his other features are hidden in the way the body is twisted and lying on its front.

  “No pulse,” Eta says. She digs her fingers into the fabric of his duster and yanks. She manages to get the man to move a little, but it's not enough to turn him onto his back. “Ethan.”