by Beth Martin
“I think I’m pregnant,” Irene said, interrupting. She gave Elijah a sideways glance. She trusted Florida’s medical ability, but didn’t want to divulge all the details of the medical experiments done by AQD. Not yet.
“That’s amazing,” Florida said, her lips pulling into a sincere smile. “Let’s see if we can find the baby. Why don’t you lay down on the sofa.”
Irene stretched out on the cream-colored sofa in Florida’s living room. The entire room was decorated in white and off-white, a clear sign Florida had no pets or children.
“We can actually do the scan with a device,” Florida said. “Could you pull up your shirt a little?” Irene held up the bottom of her shirt, and Florida held her device against Irene’s skin. “Start ultrasonic imaging. Display on screen.”
The screen on the wall lit up with a black and white image. Florida drew on her device with her fingertip which displayed as red lines on the large wall screen. “See this right here? This is your ovary, and this is the blastocyst released maybe a couple days ago. So if we look in your uterus and zoom in a bit… there’s the first few cells for the baby. It’s not even technically an embryo yet. So yes, you’re pregnant, but it’s very early. If the blastocyst doesn’t release enough hCG, then it’s not a viable pregnant and the lining will be shed like normal. But, if it’s healthy, you should expect a positive result from a urine test in a couple weeks. I’d wait until then before scheduling an appointment with your OB.”
Irene felt sick again. The room began to spin around her, even though she was still lying on the sofa. The next thing she knew, Florida was in her face, holding a cold towel to her forehead.
“We lost you for a second,” she said. “I guess this news was a bit of a surprise?”
“Yeah,” Elijah said. “Especially for a gay woman.”
“Oh my,” Florida said, her face full of concern. “Were you raped?”
Tears stung at Irene’s eyes. The difference between being physically assaulted and experimented on seemed slim. She might as well have been raped.
“I’m so sorry,” Florida said, pulling her into a hug. “You want me to call the police?”
“No,” Irene said. “No police.”
“Would you want to keep the baby?” she asked.
Irene shook her head. She didn’t want her body to serve as an incubator for Aiden’s deranged research.
Florida disappeared into another room before returning with a glass of water. She held out a hand to reveal a small white tablet. “Take this,” she instructed. “It will force your uterus to shed its lining and prevent the baby from implanting. Since it’s so early, just the one pill should be enough.”
Irene took the pill and washed it down with the glass of water.
“You might have some slight cramping.”
“Thank you,” Irene said.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to contact the police?” Florida asked.
“I’m sure.”
“It’s getting late,” Elijah said. “Why don’t we get some grub. How’s pizza sound?”
Irene shook her head. “I don’t know if I could stomach pizza.”
“You should get some rest,” Florida said. “That pill’s going to cause some cramping and kick-start your period into high gear. If you need anything, anything at all, give me a call.”
“Thanks.”
Florida still wore a worried expression. “I’m serious. Anything. Even if it’s two in the morning.”
Irene smiled weakly and nodded.
··OOO··
“Is everything okay?” Aiden asked. He sat down next to where Jamie lay on the bed and brushed her hair out of her face.
“I feel awful,” she confessed. After talking to Irene on the phone yesterday, she had gone straight home and collapsed on the bed. She hadn’t moved from there except to use the bathroom. “Irene called, and…” She stopped, not wanting to say the rest, like saying it would make it real. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m the worst person ever,” she said.
“Shhh. You knew the relationship was over well before you ever met me. She was just using the promise of a baby as a last-ditch effort to hold onto you, but it was too little too late. Don’t blame yourself. Now you can mourn your loss, and move on.”
She nodded. It hurt too much to think about moving on.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“No.”
“I’ll go make you a sandwich.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. She heard the screen turn on and the sound of the evening news playing while Aiden rummaged through the kitchen.
All the moments of her relationship and marriage with Irene flashed through her mind. The day they first met at a mutual friend’s wedding, their disastrous first date, their first kiss in the rain under the awning of their favorite coffee house. She remembered the day Irene proposed. She had said, “I can’t imagine myself without you,” before revealing the sapphire ring. Now, not only did Jamie have to imagine life without Irene, she would have to live it.
Of course, not everything had been perfect. As Irene spent more and more time at work, Jamie had also pulled away. They stopped reminding each other how much they were in love. After a while, they weren’t in love. They had become roommates more than lovers. Irene started drinking more. Jamie started finding thrills elsewhere. She flirted with new people she met and forgot to mention that she had a spouse. The barista at their favorite coffee shop had asked her out on a date. And now Aiden.
All of that didn’t matter now. It was over. She couldn’t fix it. A sense of dread settled over her as she realized they would need to file for divorce. She wasn’t ready to think about that.
A loud crash interrupted her thoughts. It sounded like a plate shattering. “Fuck,” Aiden shouted from the kitchen. The sound of ceramic shards clattering into the trash followed.
A moment later, Aiden returned with a ham sandwich on a plate. “Here you go, love.” Jamie took one half of the sandwich and lifted it to her mouth. She wasn’t hungry. She took the smallest bite before returning the half to the plate.
“You should eat,” he said.
“I’m not really hungry.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before getting up and walking out of the bedroom. She heard the screen turn back on, this time to sports. The plate holding the sandwich was taunting her from where it sat at the corner of the bed. It was reminding her of her physical body, ultimately broadcasting the message that life must go on. She shoved the plate aside and it dropped onto the floor, taking the offensive sandwich with it.
··OOO··
Pizza had not been the best idea. Irene sat down in the tiny stall. She didn’t care how dirty the floor was; after heaving out every little bit she had eaten, she didn’t have the energy to stand. She hung her face over the toilet and spit out another mouthful of bile. This was more than just the heavy food. She suspected the pill Florida had given her was contributing to her nausea.
A few minutes later, the feeling passed. She got out of the stall and rinsed her hands and face at the sink before returning to the table.
“Is everything okay?” Elijah asked. “You were gone for an awfully long time.”
She shook her head. She just wanted to go home and get some sleep. But she couldn’t go home, not to her apartment. “I think that pill Florida game me…”
“Oh, shit,” he said. “I guess we should have gotten something lighter, like salads or something.”
She looked down at her empty plate. “It’s not mine.”
“What’s not yours?” he asked, keeping his voice down. “The baby?”
“The ovary.”
“How do you know?”
She took a sip of water. The only other person who had known she was barren was Jamie. And Aiden. “Mine were removed when I was sixteen. I knew I was predisposed to ovarian cancer, so I had to get detailed scans every year. When I was fifteen, the doctor found tumors on both sides. At the
time, I was a ward of the state, so the ultimate decision wasn’t mine. My case worker decided to have them both completely removed, even though my doctor thought she might be able to save the right one.” Yet again, tears slipped down her face. She didn’t care anymore. Elijah had already seen it all.
“Is that why you got a job at the Social Department?”
She nodded. “I wanted to prevent something like that from happening to anyone else.”
“Instead, we get to tell healthy people not to have kids.”
“Basically.”
Something on the screen behind the bar caught her attention. She got up from the table and approached the bar. Elijah followed her.
“Can you turn that up?” she asked, pointing to the screen. The bartender nodded, and tapped at the corner of the screen, increasing the volume.
“What is it?” Elijah asked.
Irene shushed him as she watched the news segment, her eyes never leaving the screen. A body had been found in the dumpster outside of Irene’s apartment, possibly strangled using an ordinary brown leather belt. The body had been identified as a federal employee, his ID portrait displayed in a small frame at the corner of the screen.
“Holy shit,” she said.
“What is it?” he asked again.
Irene turned to Elijah while pointing at the portrait on the screen. “That’s Agent Rick.”
eighteen
Elijah offered to take Irene up to her friend’s apartment, but she insisted on going by herself. She glanced back at the beat-up blue car sputtering away before going into the lobby and greeting the doorman.
Annette’s door was open and she was waiting for Irene in the hall. “Oh my God, Irene, I’m so glad to see you.” Annette grabbed her into a hug, squeezing her. “You just disappeared and I couldn’t reach you. And then I got a call from the police that a vagrant had stolen my device. What the hell happened?”
Finally free of Annette’s grasp, Irene went into the messy apartment and collapsed onto the pile of laundry covering the sofa. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
Annette settled into a chair near Irene. “You better stay this time. No going out searching for your FBI handler.”
Irene looked around the room. “Where’s Ophelia?”
“Asleep. She’ll stay that way for only maybe half-an-hour, so you better spill quick. Now, what’s going on with you?”
Irene let out a heavy sigh. She proceeded to tell Annette everything: how she was originally approached by the FBI, all of her dealings with AQD, how she learned about Jamie’s affair, the medical experiments including her own, how she got arrested, and that her contact with the FBI was now dead.
Annette leaned forward, staring at her in disbelief. “Wait. You’re telling me Carmen Pott’s balls were implanted in the body of a hot young underwear model by your mad scientist of a boss?”
“Pretty much.”
“Holy shit. Oh my God, Ophelia’s going to be all messed up. I mean, transplanted? That can’t be good for sperm quality.”
Irene gave a half smile. “I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”
Annette leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Shit. And he put some other deranged experiment inside your uterus?”
Irene looked down at her belly. She had some cramps right now and her stomach was still off, but otherwise she felt fine. “I took a pill. I won’t have the baby. I’ll be fine.”
Annette gave her a concerned look. “What are you going to do now?”
She knew she should leave it up to the FBI. They hadn’t exactly done a great job handling the situation so far, but they’d come to the same conclusion Irene had: Aiden killed their agent. He’d go to federal prison and do some time.
But Jamie’s face flashed through her mind. He had taken Jamie from her. He didn’t deserve Jamie’s love and adoration. He didn’t deserve anything. Irene clenched her fists. “That asshole is going to pay for what he did to me.”
··OOO··
Irene didn’t think she’d be able to sleep at all, even in Annette’s plush bed, but her body was physically exhausted. She was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Noises from the other room woke her in the middle of the night. She could see flashes of light coming from down the hall. Her curiosity got the best of her and she crept out of bed, following the light source to the living room. Annette was seated on the sofa feeding Ophelia a bottle while the screen softly played the news.
“How long have you been up?” Irene asked.
Annette glanced at her device. “A while. Check this out.” She turned up the volume on the news. Irene sat down next to her and watched the screen.
“What’s going on?” She watched for a moment before she realized the news was reporting on Agent Rick.
Ophelia pushed the bottle away, so Annette set it on the coffee table in front of them. “I guess they’ve ruled his death as an accident.”
Irene glanced at Annette, then back at the screen. “What? What about the belt?”
Annette didn’t look away from the screen. “I don’t know, but the medical examiner claims he died from a blow to the head. Probably caused by a fall. They’ve stopped investigating.”
Irene bowed her head. She wouldn’t stand for this. “I need to borrow some clothes.”
··OOO··
Irene got out of the cab and started walking to the farmhouse. She had asked to be let off far enough away from the structure that the car navigation wouldn’t show the actual location of the AQD office. The extra precaution wasn’t to protect AQD. It was to protect herself. Although, if she was caught and had to live the rest of her life in prison, she was okay with that.
Beads of sweat formed at her hairline as she walked, and she wiped them off with her hand. In any other circumstance, she would have stopped to admire the beauty of the little house and orchard under the first rays of the sunrise, but today she was on a mission. She attributed the extra perspiration to nerves since it was too cool out for her to sweat from pure exertion.
A sudden stabbing pain in her gut stopped her. She gripped her abdomen as the slicing feeling wracked through her. After stopping to catch her breath for a moment, the pain subsided and she was able to continue walking.
Only a minute later, the searing pain shot through her again, stronger this time. As she moaned through the worst part of the residual cramping, she noticed a dark blue stain spreading out from between her legs.
Annette had loaned her a pair of charcoal gray pinstripe pants and a bright yellow top, two items Irene would never pick out for herself. They were a little loose on her figure, but she still looked at least a little professional. Except for the blue spreading down the legs. Florida had warned her about having a heavy period, but she hadn’t expected this. If only she had remembered, she would have tucked a pad in her panties. It was too late now, and honestly, she didn’t care. All that mattered was taking out Aiden.
The stabbing pains seemed to come in waves. They came on quickly, but each time subsided fairly quickly as well. She pressed on, walking up to the house. Nothing would get in her way. She patted her hand on the right pocket of her pants. The box cutter she had borrowed from Annette was still there.
Peeking in the back window, she didn’t see any signs of anyone in the kitchen, and none of the lights were on. She would pretend to go to work like normal and find a way to make Aiden come to her. Another wave of pain ripped through her, and she had to hold onto the doorknob to keep from crumpling down to the ground. As the stabbing sensation subsided, she made her way to the storm doors and stepped through.
As soon as she finished laboriously climbed down the stairs into the office, her coworkers started voicing their concern.
“Irene,” Bobby said, his eyes wide. “You look like death. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said. She felt hot and cold at the same time, and her insides were in excruciating pain, like knives were ripping her apart. The entire front of her slacks were now stained
blue.
“Okay,” Bobby said slowly. “Why don’t you match these profiles, and I’m going to go find, some, uh, paper.” He gestured at the profiles he had spread out in front of him before sprinting up the spiral staircase.
Irene looked at the first profile. She was so used to matching pairs. She could still do it in her current state. Looking at the paper though, she couldn’t make out any of the words. The letters began to spin and move around the page, unwilling to stay still.
She set the page back onto the table and looked over at Sharon who was quietly typing. She looked totally normal. Irene lifted the profile again. It was fine. A little blurry, but she could make out the letters.
Stomping feet came running down the stairs. Aiden walked straight to her, followed by Sean, and then Bobby. Instead of walking around the table, he jumped over it to the side Irene stood on.
“How do you feel?” he demanded. Now was her chance.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. She reached for the box cutter in her pocket, but fumbled it, dropping her weapon. No one else seemed to notice the loud clank it made as it hit the floor.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
She counted four, but then it changed to two, then one. “You have to hold still,” she said. Aiden and Sean exchanged a glance. Aiden pressed a hand into her lower abdomen. It felt like an explosion of shards of glass as he pressed against her. She screamed out in pain, unable to hold it in.
“Shit,” Aiden said. “It’s infected. Shit.” Sean helped him lift Irene over the table and the two men carried her upstairs to the farmhouse.
She had never been farther in the house than the kitchen, but she was so dazed, her brain didn’t really register what was going on around her. She thought that she was lying on a soft surface, but the only feeling that made sense was the pain.
“We need to remove it,” Sean said, his voice sounding far away, like he was shouting through water.
“This was supposed to be my first female success,” Aiden said, his voice also miles away.
“Right now, it’s just going to kill her. We’ll try again.”
“Start her on antibiotics. We’ll move her to the medical center, but first I need to get a scan.”
