Nate Kenyon - The Reach (Leisure Fiction)

Ten years ago

Beyond the frosted panes of double glass, the windscreamed its displeasure. Day had slipped into night with the coming storm. TheWKOB weatherman was predicting three feet of snow today, another six inchestomorrow; the worst storm to hit in thirty years, he said. Do not leave yourhomes unless it's absolutely necessary.

The young doctor was listening intently to the radioat the second-floor station when her pager beeped. She checked the code,slipped quickly across the wine-red carpet to the nearest window, and peeredout on a desolate winter scene. The little hospital parking lot wore a sheet ofinch-thick ice pinned by mountains of plowed snow. It was mostly empty, thehospital all but shut down in preparation for the storm. Only three patientstoday, and two of them had come in on the same call, a couple of skiers who gotdisoriented in the woods and had frostbite. One of them, a pretty young thing,lost the little toe on her left foot. The doctor found it necessary to amputate.

Blood. Thedoctor saw it again as she closed her eyes, bright red blood coating her glovedhands.

The radio buzzed now and then as the wind made the signalcome and go. She opened her eyes. The parking lot lights barely cut through thesnow as it started to fall faster. Nothing that looked like an emergency; butshe could hardly see anything at all. She shivered as the scene below her fadedinto a writhing white blanket of dim and mysterious shapes.

Down at the front entrance the admitting desk wasempty. Above the little waiting area with its row of plastic-molded chairs, anineteen-inch television set flickered from a bracket on the wall. The rug herefelt damp and the color had faded in a trail from the waiting area to the frontdesk. It smelled like cleaning solution.

The doctor spotted movement through the sliding glassdoors. Two emergency techs were unloading a woman from her car. One of themslipped to his knees and cursed, a black man in a green hospital coat andslacks, bare hands and head, tight, coal-black hair frosted with snow. James orsomething. No, Jack, that was it. Likely to lose his earlobes to the cold ifhe isn't careful, and maybe the tips of his fingers too. It could happenin five minutes in this weather. The other one had a scarf wrapped around hisneck and wore knitted pink mittens that had been sitting in the lost and found,and he looked warmer, but not much. A country boy, thick and heavy like hemight play linebacker on the local college football team. Stewart was his name,or Stan. Young kid. She had only been working there a week and couldn'tremember everybody yet.

The sliding glass doors opened and they wheeled thewoman inside on a stretcher. A gust of wind hit the doctor like a gut punch.For a moment the lobby was transformed into a blizzard; the doors closed andthe snow settled in the silence like one of those Christmas globes that hadbeen shaken and then put to rest.

She stepped forward to break the spell. The woman wassitting up on the stretcher, wrapped in a white horsehair blanket and curiouslycalm. She appeared to be suffering from shock. It took the doctor only a momentto discover that her new patient was naked under the blanket, and in labor.

The woman's heart beat slow and steady in spite of thepain she must be in. How was it possible? The contractions are coming almoston top of each other. She would deliver soon. And yet her breathing hardlychanged.

The empty car sat sideways just outside the entrance,lights shining away from them, motor still running. The doctor leaned forward,close to the pregnant woman's face. "What's your name?" she asked.The woman smiled vacantly. "Your name" the doctor said again,sharply this time. No response. She pinched the fleshy part of the woman'supper arm, watched it flush pink. Her skin was creamy and perfectly smooth,almost poreless . She had the look of a backwoodsgirl, but there was something more to her, some special kind of glow or aura.

Pregnant women can be like that, the doctor thought.She'd witnessed it before, but this sort of glow seemed unnatural under theharsh glare of the hospital lights. She stared at the woman's naked legsbeneath the blanket, felt herself enter a slow dream free fall, and shook herhead to clear it. Something seemed to be buzzing far away, like a fluorescentbulb about to blink into life.

"Creeps me out," the black tech said."She was doing that in the car when we went to get her. Just sitting theresmiling like that."

"Is there anyone with her?"

"Car's empty," he said. "Lights are onbut nobody's home, know what I mean? How in Sam Hell she drove here all byherself --"

"Get the delivery room ready," the youngdoctor said. Her hands felt clammy and she wiped them across her white coat,then raked her fingers through her hair. She lookedat the pregnant woman again. What was wrong with her? Drugs? The situation wasmaddening. She had come to this little town to get away from the pressure ofthe big city hospitals and their twenty-hour shifts, and now here she was inthe middle of something her very first week. Should have gone into psychiatrylike the rest of her friends back at UDA.

They were wheeling the woman toward the delivery roomwhen the power went out.

First there was a great cracking sound, like a treelimb snapping under tremendous pressure. Then a back-surge of air, as ifsomething huge and warm had taken a deep breath.

And then they were plunged into darkness.

"Don't move," the doctor said. Dim redlights blinked on down the hall. She waited a moment for the main generatorsto kick in and give them something more, but nothing happened. It was no good;without lights the delivery room was useless.

They stood bathed in red.

The wind howled. The doctor put her hand on thewoman's belly and found the swelling had moved lower and turned. This baby wascoming now.

They set her up right there, lying on her back on thestretcher with her legs spread under the blanket. The two techs heldflashlights, one on either side; a nurse appeared with boiling water from thegas stove in the staff kitchen, and towels, along with a few instruments on astainless steel tray from the delivery room. The doctor crouched between thewoman's legs, going through a checklist in her head. She could see somethingnow, wet and bloody at the woman's opening, bright and strange in theflashlight beams.

Sweat stung her eyes. She blinked it away, glanced upand over the blanket.

Something was wrong. "Push," the doctorsaid, getting a grip on the baby's slippery head. "We've got to get it outnow. Do you understand me?" The woman did not respond, but thedoctor felt her muscles working. How could she be so calm? She hadn't even beengiven a painkiller; it was too dangerous without knowing what else she was on.

The doctor raised her hands. Blood, dripping from herfingers, her palms. She hadn't put on any gloves.

Blood.

She felt the room spinning. The hairs rose on the backof her neck. That great dark something around them took another sweepingbreath.

They were engulfed in a huge, smothering silence. Thelights blinked on, stuttered, and went off again. She found herself staring atthe woman's face over the blanket as shadows danced in the beam of theflashlight. So beautiful, the doctor wondered through the buzzing that filledher head. She had to be the most beautiful woman in the world. She felt herselffalling again, that sweet dizzy rush, and this time she let it pull her down toher knees.

A rattling sound filled the room like the beating of ahundred tiny drums.