"We're coming in for the home stretch now," said Georgia. "You can do it, Mandy. You're going to have to push. This is going to be hard. This is going to suck. But trust me, you can do it. If I can push out those two huge kids of mine... you should have seen how big they were as babies... I know you can push out this little Max Junior..."
Mandy cried out as she started to push. He'd never seen her in so much pain.
Max took a couple of big steps back.
Seeing this scared him in some way that nothing else did. He didn't know exactly why. Maybe it was just because it was something new, something different from fighting and survival.
Or maybe it was because he was scared of bringing a new life into the world.
After all, his kid would grow up in a world that... would be radically different.
Back before the EMP, Max had never thought much about having kids. He'd figured he'd make that decision if the right woman had come along.
And she never had.
Not until the EMP.
And it turned out that she'd been living next door to Max all that time. And they hadn't even known each other. They'd never even spoken until Max had decided to kick down her door to rescue her.
It had been a huge decision for him. Before that moment, he'd been convinced that he'd only look out for himself, that he'd die a violent death if he stopped to try to help others.
Well, he'd stopped. He'd saved Mandy.
And he was glad he had.
He doubted that he'd even be alive if he hadn't. After all, how many times had Mandy saved him? Too many to count.
Max was once again getting lost in his thoughts.
The next thing he knew, it was all over.
Mandy let out a huge grunt of pain. One final push. Strain on her face.
Georgia was reaching between Mandy's legs, grabbing something.
When she came up, she was holding a baby.
A disgusting baby, covered in all the things that a baby is covered in when it first comes into the world.
Mandy was still breathing hard, but she started to quiet down. Max looked at her and smiled. She smiled weakly back at him.
"Looks like a healthy baby... and it's a boy," said Georgia, holding him where Max and Mandy could both get a clear look at it.
It was strange looking, the baby. But only strange in the way that all newborns look strange. Their heads can seem misshapen, and their necks are almost absent. Their skin has a strange look to it.
Overall, they look funny.
And Max and Mandy's baby was no different.
It was all normal. It was a normal, healthy, soon-to-be happy baby.
"Let's name him Chad," said Max.
Georgia shot Max what might have been a quizzical, or critical, look. But she managed to stifle her normally stubborn, somewhat combative personality, and didn't say anything.
Max looked at Mandy.
"Sounds good," said Mandy, nodding.
Georgia was smiling the next time Max looked at her.
"Here you go, you hold her, Mandy," said Georgia, slowly lowering baby Chad into Mandy's eager arms. "You want to do the honors, Max?"
"The honors?"
"The umbilical cord. Sometimes the dad…"
"Oh," said Max. "Sure. Unless there's some trick to it?"
"Not really," said Georgia. "I remember how it's done. I'll show you."
"Let me go sterilize my knife," said Max, taking out his folding pocketknife, and flipping it open.
The knife had been used for many things before, but cutting an umbilical cord wasn't one of them.
All he needed was a lighter or some alcohol.
"I'll be right back with a clean knife," said Max, ducking out the door into the outdoors. As he did, he glanced back to see Mandy holding baby Chad, Georgia presiding over the whole thing.
"Is it a boy or girl?" said Sadie, suddenly popping up in front of Max. Her face was shining with excitement.
"Boy," said Max. "Help me find a lighter, will you?"
Max felt foolish. He should have been prepared for the birth. He should have had everything they might have ever needed already there.
But that's the way life was sometimes. No matter how hard you tried to prepare, things got in the way, or things cropped up unexpectantly.
Read more of my books here: https://www.amazon.com/Ryan-Westfield/e/B075MXJJ49
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About Ryan Westfield
Ryan Westfield is an author of post-apocalyptic survival thrillers. He’s always had an interest in “being prepared,” and spends time wondering what that really means. When he’s not writing and reading, he enjoys being outdoors.
Contact Ryan at [email protected]
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