Shifting Power

by Dacia M Arnold

  Passing through the threshold, she collapsed. Another contraction started, weaker but still painful. She managed to breathe through the wave of torment. Courtney swung open the door holding a candle, allowing Monica to wheel in a hospital bed and cart with emergency supplies.

  “How far apart?”

  “I’ve just had two. Monica, my water broke,” Valerie said through tears, realizing her own body betrayed her. She really couldn’t trust a single person on this earth, including herself. “I don’t want to lose her. Please,” she breathed through another rolling contraction, “please, please, please.”

  Courtney filled the room with more candles, and then disappeared again.

  “Monica? Where are you?” a man’s voice came from just outside the door, wheeling a pediatric incubator into the room.

  “Standby, Tim,” Monica directed a tall man behind her as she put sterile gloves on. “She’s 26 weeks, her water’s broken. This baby is coming if we’re ready or not.”

  “Caleb’s gone,” Courtney said from the doorway.

  “What? Gone where?” Valerie screamed as the next contraction took over her every thought.

  “Okay, Val. You’re about thirty seconds apart. Let me know when this one passes, and we’ll get you up on the bed. Court, honey, find him!”

  “Okay, okay, okay.” Valerie let out a long breath through tears and, with help, got up to the bed. “Find him, Courtney. Find my baby boy.”

  “No,” she cried. “It’s not time. Please no. Make it stop. She’s not ready.”

  Valerie gripped the bed railing. This was it. Her last contraction. She felt the pressure and the urge to push too soon. Way too soon.

  “Valerie, push. We’re here. If she’s anything like her mother, she’s strong enough. You need to trust the gene, Val. Janie is as strong as you.”

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Push.

  “Okay, her head is out. Just a second.”

  Valerie sucked in two long breaths.

  “Ready? Just one more push with the next contraction and she’s here.”

  “It’s coming.” Breathe. Breathe. Scream. Red and black filled her vision. Then the weight left her body. Her lungs freed. The pain eased.

  “Take her out of the room. The gene should help her, but it’s muted in the room.”

  The tall pediatrician took the baby as Valerie watched helplessly.

  “Move her to the doorway, I can’t see. Move the crib. I can’t see my baby.”

  A tiny screech caused a lump in her throat. Janie's bright red skin was almost transparent. “Is she okay? My little girl. Monica, is she okay?”

  “Give her just a little time, Val. She’s very early.”

  Valerie waited, unable to focus her vision, and listened for any indication of Janie’s condition. Through the bedroom door, Valerie saw across the apartment. The front door opened.

  “Caleb! Where’s Caleb?” she yelled at the approaching figures, too weak to sit up.

  But they didn’t answer her. Valerie lifted her head to see Teresa walking with a very tall man she didn’t recognize, but even in the room, she felt him. He was a DiaZem.

  “No!” Valerie screamed, but she had no energy to fight. She was light-headed, and her vision narrowed. Teresa held a gun to the pediatrician and Monica, who raised their hands in the air and backed away from the crib.

  “Make a move, I’ll kill you both,” Teresa dared them.

  Valerie watched in a haze while the man walked to Janie’s clear crib. The tiny infant could fit in Valerie’s hand. The man touched a finger to her heel, and the baby kicked at him. Janie’s translucent skin paled and her calves thickened. The hard screech of a cry became stronger with each breath.

  “He’s healing her,” Monica whispered, holding Valerie’s hand. “Valerie?”

  She could hear Monica but couldn’t respond.

  “Screw you, Teresa. If I don’t get Valerie out of here and treat her, she’ll die.”

  “Fine,” Teresa said. “Do whatever, but keep her ass in that room.”

  Valerie fought to keep her eyes on Janie. The man wrapped the baby in a blanket and brought her into the room.

  “It’s a girl,” he whispered as the little darling slept. Her cheeks were fat and full.

  Confused, Valerie didn’t have the strength to question the man. What was he doing there? If he was there to heal Janie, why did Teresa have a gun?

  Like a ray of hope and strength when she had none left, Hyka burst into the apartment. Teresa pointed the gun and fired, missing, but just barely. Hyka kicked Teresa clean in the face. Teresa fell and dropped the gun, and blood poured from her nose. Hyka grabbed Teresa’s hair and rammed her knee into her temple hard three times, then threw her to the ground in a motionless heap.

  “I was hoping to bypass your bodyguard, but I guess someone needs to be the example,” the DiaZem man said to Valerie in a thick English accent. He walked out of the room, pulling a whip-like contraption from his belt. With an effortless flick of his wrist, Hyka’s arms were pinned to her side.

  “You’ve been a muse to many, Madam DiaZem. This device was inspired by the epic battle of Valerie Russell and Doctor Lucas Jarrett. Watch.” The man cradled Janie in the crook of his left elbow, the whip with his right.

  Valerie watched as her daughter’s energy combined with the man’s and coursed power through the strands of fiber binding Hyka. Her friend fought the pain, her clothes singed away until it was her body that began to burn. Hyka opened her mouth to scream, but the fire had worked its way from the inside. A red glow escaped her throat, then she fell to the ground, her skin black. Her body lifeless.

  “I’m sorry I have to do this,” the man said, returning to Valerie’s side. “For the good of the world, you must not interfere. One day, I hope you can reconcile that this was the only way.”

  Valerie watched him walk out of the apartment with her newborn daughter.

  A scream. The last bit of power she held in the skeleton of her being. Her light, her spark, gave out.

  Curled in an embrace, she breathed his scent in deeply. Home. Eyes still closed, she reached a hand to his face and his thin beard, to the small scar on his chin. He kissed her palm. She pressed her face into his chest. There was no pain. No hurting. She felt so small in his arms. Fragile yet safe.

  “I failed, didn’t I? They needed me to save them, and I let go instead.”

  “Shhh. Rest.”

  “You have a daughter, Scott. She’s perfect.”

  “I know she’s perfect. She’s just like her mother.”

  “I’m sorry. So sorry. I should have been strong enough to stop Jarrett. To stop Kevin. To stop that man. I’ve never been strong enough. They should’ve never put their trust in me.”

  She turned her head to the bright white expanse. Major stood waiting, but she somehow knew he had been there the whole time. Scott wiped a tear from her face, and she finally looked up at him.

  “Will I be able to protect them here? Like this?”

  “No, hun.”

  Valerie looked back at Major. There was a blur behind him of an approaching figure. Valerie stood up from Scott’s arms and walked toward the image. Hyka drew closer, holding a bundle in her arms. Valerie covered her mouth.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “His name is Austin.” Hyka moved the white cloth to reveal a fat-cheeked baby with a full head of black hair.

  “This is my fault.”

  “Fault and consequence are not the same.” Hyka’s tone was soft and understanding. Not the annoyed monotone she spoke when she was in the flesh.

  “We can’t both be here.”

  “You of all people should know energy can’t be destroyed. It simply changes form,” Hyka answered her protest.

  “But Caleb, Janie. They need me.” Valerie looked around. “Where’s my dad?”

  “He’s not here with us, Valerie,” Major answered.

  Was hell real? Was this heaven?

  “I can�
�t be dead,” she spoke the thought aloud.

  “Then you should hurry,” Scott said with a smile.

  “Is there a door?” Just as she asked the question, the white light dimmed around her. “But I’m not ready.”

  She turned back to Scott and ran into his arms. “Come with me. I can’t do this alone.”

  “You won’t be alone. You’ve never been alone, Val. Look at me.” He held her face in his hands. “Trust the gene. You can move on. You can be happy. I want you to be happy, to love again. I love you. It’s time you did, too.”

  He kissed her, soft and long. The light faded more.

  “Kevin,” Scott sighed. “He’s just doing what he thinks is right.”

  Her anger returned. A fire ignited within her ribs. Hyka handed her baby boy to Major and stepped to Valerie.

  “Don’t stop until you get that DiaZem motherfucker who did this.”

  Valerie wrapped her arms around Hyka’s neck. The light disappeared and plunged her into cold darkness where Monica waited for her. Valerie’s head was cradled in the doctor’s lap, her eyes closed. Courtney rested her head on Monica’s shoulder and held Valerie’s hand. A cold pool of blood chilled her to the bone. Her own blood. Valerie shifted to her back. Hands trembling, she guided them over her stomach. Flat smooth muscle. All signs of the life once growing inside her gone. Monica gasped.

  “They’re gone, aren’t they?” Valerie whispered with her eyes still closed.

  Monica nodded her head. Valerie grasped the bloody sheet that covered her naked body. She walked to the living room. Jack sat on the floor next to Hyka’s body with his back against the wall and his head in his bloody hands. Hyka’s body had also been covered in a white sheet. The smell of charred skin and hair was nauseating. Teresa slumped over in a corner. She was still clinging to life.

  Valerie crouched down in front of Teresa; tucking the sheet securely under her arms she placed a hand on each side of the woman’s head. Her skull crunched as it pushed back into place and mended. Slowly she opened her eyes. Valerie stopped the healing.

  “Blink if you can understand me.”

  Teresa blinked.

  “Can you talk?”

  “Y-yes.” A breathy effort.

  “Where did they take my children?”

  “Duh. . .” Teresa took a labored breath. “Dee. . .”

  Valerie gave a little more of her energy.

  “DC”

  All of Valerie’s muscles tightened in anger. Her arms flexed, and her hands pressed the woman’s head. Teresa winced in pain. The already weak bone cracked under her pressure. Baring her teeth, she pushed with all of her strength. Jack squatted behind her, put his hands over hers, and pushed until Teresa’s skull gave. She was dead.

  He sat down behind her and wrapped his arms around Valerie.

  “I failed you, kid. I failed everyone I ever loved.”

  “This isn’t how it ends, Jack. They’ve fought too hard for us to give up. Hyka would want us to finish this.”

  “Our baby. . .”

  “His name is Austin,” Valerie said, turning to him.

  Jack looked into her eyes, searching hers for answers.

  “He’s a boy?”

  “With a head of black hair like his mama. Perfect in every way. Happy. At peace with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  Jack shook his head as his eyes overflowed with tears. “I’m going to kill that DiaZem motherfucker.”

  Valerie couldn’t help but smile and laugh in agreement. “I’ll get cleaned up. August should be back soon.”

  August stepped off the ramp and into the concourse. Valerie had arranged their arrival gate to be moved to one directly across from a bar. She and Jack were easy to find. With Johnny Cash playing loud overhead, putting words to their pain, the two sat with four empty bottles of bourbon on the bar. She didn’t need to look up at August, because she felt him the moment the plane touched the ground. Anger and resentment for her reliance on him heavily shadowed her attraction. None of it meant anything now. Both her children were gone and her submission to his energy was for nothing. Hate had found a permanent place in her heart.

  “You lying son of a bitch,” she slurred when he approached her. “You were never drunk. You had two glasses of scotch and claimed to be honest. I’ve had two bottles of Makers and hardly have a buzz.” She was shaky on her feet and swallowed a wave of nausea.

  People poured out of the gate and into the terminal, carrying children or bags. Not one of them was empty-handed. August scooped Valerie up and took her to the back of the restaurant, out of sight of the new Facility residents. Even as he set her down in the booth, he didn’t let go of her. He scooted her down the bench and held her tight. She let him.

  “I will kill every last one. All of them. I won’t stop. I’ll drop a bomb on every single megacity in the Council,” she slurred and spit the words through sobs.

  “Shhhh.” He smoothed her hair and held her head to his chest.

  Valerie looked up at him and pulled his face to hers. She felt sloppy kissing him. Her head was blurry and drunk. She and Jack downed an entire bottle before she realized she could stop their bodies from metabolizing the alcohol immediately. She tried to get up, but he held onto her, keeping her in place on the bench seat.

  “They don’t need to see you like this,” August whispered into her hair.

  “My best friend was just murdered. They stole my children. I fucking died. I don’t give a shit about who sees me. I’m not leading anyone. I never wanted to.”

  Valerie pushed him off of her and pulled herself clumsily off the bench. “I want to let everyone know, I can’t protect you,” she yelled at the frozen crowd. “I couldn’t even protect my kids!”

  She leaned over the bar, snatched random bottles of alcohol in each hand, and walked away. Instead of taking the train, she walked along the tunnel, not even flinching as the cars whipped past her in the same direction. August wasn’t on it. She could feel him keeping a safe distance behind her. She thought about jumping in front of the train, but if losing nearly six pints of blood had not killed her, neither would the impact. Throwing one of the caps aside, she upturned a bottle into her mouth. Tequila. Fumes burned through her nostrils, making her eyes water, opening the flood gates to more tears. More liquor would douse the flame of grief building in her chest. By the fifth floor, she threw up over the railing in the stairwell. Annoyed at the sudden illness, she sobered herself, smiling at the thought of August walking through the vomit to get to their apartment.

  A cleaning crew had kept the door open to the apartment. They had removed the bodies but were still cleaning the blood from nearly every room, except August’s. She threw the empty bottles into the kitchen trash bin and took two bottles from the wine fridge. August’s room was the logical choice for momentary solitude.

  Wine drunk felt different. Maybe the nostalgia of married life lingering on her lips helped her relax. Drinking deeply from the bottle, the numbness reactivated. She took off her clothes, brushed her teeth with his toothbrush, and slipped into his bed. She sat bare-breasted, drinking and staring out at the black expanse outside her fortress. Her body had healed from the traumatic birth only a couple hours before. She was left as a shell: empty, bitter, angry, and drunk.

  Hearing his voice made her pulse quicken. What would he do when he found her in his bed? She felt his sorrow sharper than her internal ache, but there was no pity in her heart. He didn’t lose a damn thing. All while her entire life crumbled and one by one, the people she loved were taken from her. Hating him might save him.

  After a few more minutes, August opened the door. He looked down at her, took a deep breath, and walked back out, returning with two glasses. He shut the door, handed one to her, and set the other down. Nothing was said as he went to the bathroom and turned the shower on.

  When the shower turned off, she went to him. Valerie pulled the towel from his hands but didn’t look at him. She didn’t need to. Her body wanted wh
at it wanted. She kissed him, pressing herself against his body. His hand went through her hair, and he kissed her back, hard. She fought the ball of sadness in her throat. She needed this. She needed to have him. She needed to know.

  “You should know,” he said between kisses of passion.

  “Shut up.”

  Valerie grabbed his wrist and led him to the bed, turning to him at the last moment before he supported her back and lowered her down. Lights burned bright, but Valerie didn’t care. She would have him. She would give in to herself, her primal desires, and no one would rob this moment from her.

  August laid with his eyes closed, not sleeping. Neither he nor the eastern horizon she stared at offered her solace. The last of the wine drained down her throat. She would drink a sea to never feel the full brunt of her loss. She worried for Jack but knew she would doom him to the same fate as his wife if she let him stay by her side. August stirred slightly.

  “I don’t love you,” she whispered as the sun broke the skyline in a brilliant orange and red.

  August didn’t respond, but she felt the effect her words had. He was patient and loved her deeply. Tears threatened her eyes. She got out of his bed and grabbed a shirt out of the closet. She pulled the white fabric over her head and walked out of the room to the kitchen. A new case of wine sat on the counter, half empty. Jack lay passed out on the living room floor. She grabbed three bottles and returned to bed. August had gone to the bathroom and closed the door. She didn’t care if she was invading his space. Blood covered her room, and the spare room had been host to Duke—the back-stabbing traitor August had insisted on keeping around. Every other room in the hotel was vacant, but she feared being alone. These last few moments of closeness would have to hold her over.

  “I’m leaving,” she said as he opened the door. In the exact moment of breath before the words exited her mouth was when she decided. Staying in Denver was not an option. She needed to leave the destruction and death. There was no way she would heed the warning from the Council DiaZem. She would interfere. She would rip them apart with her bare hands.