Page 46 of Once Upon an Apocalypse

It’d been four months and no one had said anything to me to confirm my pregnancy, ask how I was feeling, or even comment about my weight gain. One night, while lying in Jonah’s arms, I finally gave in and asked him if he noticed anything different. He shook his head and told me, “You are just as beautiful as the day I fell in love with you.”

“According to you, we were six years old, so…ew.” We laughed together. Something that was rare for us. The thought made my laugh cut short, and I looked Jonah right in the eyes as I said, “I’m pregnant. Did you not notice?”

“What? No. That can’t be right. We both take those birth control pills Doctore developed.”

“Yeah, but what if they aren’t for preventing pregnancy? Or what if he gave us pseudo pills? Or, now here’s one that doesn’t sound like a conspiracy: what if they simply didn’t work one of the times we had sex?”

“I don’t know, Lori. Doctore is serious about the rule of no babies allowed. Our society isn’t ready to repopulate yet. We need to first secure the world around us before we rebuild it.”

“What happens if we can’t provide a secure world? Will humans just die out because Doctore said so?” I sat up, wrapping the thin sheet around myself, not wanting Jonah to see my pregnant, naked body.

“Lori, what’s gotten into you?” Jonah was shocked by my rebellious tone, looking around as if we were being watched, even in his own private room.

I let the sheet drop then, showing Jonah my pregnant belly. He couldn’t deny what’s right in front of him, right? For a moment, I could see paternal pride and joy. Just for a sliver of a moment. Then his face went stoic as he said, “You’ve just put on a little weight, Lori. Nothing more. You’re still beautiful.”

That’s the moment I knew he was too far gone. I knew the Jonah I loved was no longer this man. This shell of a human who’d been so brainwashed there was no way to rewire his brain back. It hurt. More than hurt, my soul was torn to bits at the realization. The next day, when I was sent into the arena, Jonah didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

It was the only time I protested. I fought the entire way to the arena. When I was thrown onto the sandy ground, I yelled out into the crowd, “I’m pregnant! Please don’t let him do this to me. I’m pregnant!”

That fight was the only one fought without the cheers of the crowd. Doctore didn’t win that round. He lost the favor of his empire. But he still got what he wanted. Me. And my baby.

I was clumsy, more than usual with the extra weight. Still, I won, walking away with only a small bite from a grabber. The bite healed within an hour like it usually did. But the next day, I woke up in excruciating pain and I was bleeding. There was so much blood on the bedsheets I thought I had already died. Perhaps it was my super human healing ability that kept me alive. But I felt like death.

Jonah carried me to the infirmary and walked right back out, leaving me alone as I bled out on the gurney. He couldn’t even bother to look back at me as he walked out the door. I was alone. So alone. And I was dying. My baby was dying.

I lost consciousness shortly after Jonah dropped me off. When I woke up, Doctore was hovering over me with sharp medical tools. My abdomen was ripped open and though I could feel everything, I didn’t scream until Doctore pulled out my undead baby from my womb. As loud as my scream was, it didn’t drown out the growls and groans from the baby that died inside me. The baby that Doctore ripped from me. The baby that Doctore killed.

His triumphant face said it all. He knew this would happen. He knew my baby wouldn’t have inherited my immunity. And he threw me into that arena to test his theory. Like a prized steed, Doctore delicately laid down my squirming child into a clear plastic crib, like the ones used for premature babies. Once his work was done, Doctore left me on the gurney, not bothering to stitch me back up. It took days for my body to close itself up. During that time, no one came to see me. No one came to comfort me. No one came to tell me what the hell had happened to my baby.

A week later, with my flesh healed and my stomach flattened back to how it looked months before, it was like the whole thing had never happened. And I believed the lie.

Present Day…

When I emerge from memory and into my current surroundings, Amos is hunched over with his elbows on his knees and my mom is staring at me with silent tears running down her cheeks. I turn to Alison, who looks as if she is on the verge of crying. She simply says, “Thank you for sharing your story with us, Lori.”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to get it out.”

“It took just the right amount of time that you needed. Now we all can help you heal. It could take years to heal from this trauma, but you have made the first step toward moving forward. This, Lori, is a wonderful thing. How do you feel after telling your story aloud?”

I sigh, feeling lighter than I’ve ever felt. “Relieved,” I reply. “I feel relief.”

Amos still hasn’t looked at me and I’m slightly afraid he thinks low of me now after hearing how truly weak I am. Not just for letting harm come to my baby, but for thinking I was safe enough. That Jonah would stand up for me. My mom holds me to her chest, her tears now pouring in droves down my face.

“Oh, my sweet baby girl. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I knew something bad happened with Jonah, but…I’m so sorry.” My mom pulls me tighter to her as if doing so will erase all these terrible memories. I wish it worked like that.

“Amos, is everything all right?” Alison asks, peering down at him. He’s still hunched over. Quiet and still.

“I’m just…” Amos hesitates, then sits up to look at me. “Why did you want me here? Why tellmethis?”

Still in my mom’s arms, I let my honesty speak for me. “Because I wanted to tell you. Because you’ve been with me since the moment you rescued me from that hellhole. I wanted you to know what you rescued me from. How grateful I am that you brought me to this place, reunited me with my mom. You gave me a chance to not just survive, but to live.”

I detect a struggle behind those golden eyes which have dulled down to a dark amber. I can tell he’s thinking about what happened to me today. Here. In a place that’s supposed to be a safe haven.

“It’s not your fault, Amos,” I say. “That was all Norman.”

“The obstacle course was my idea. Not just for you, but for the unit. There are times when we have to run from the fast ones—freshies, as you call them. We don’t always have a direct route to run through. But I intended for this obstacle course to be zombie free and used by everyone. Norman used my idea against you, put you in danger, and it’s my fault.”

I pull from my mom’s embrace and slide to the floor to kneel in front of Amos. The move makes his eyes go wide. I straighten my back to reach his face, cupping it in my hands. “I told you my story, because I trust you. Because you were the only one to see me as a person, even when my body was torn to pieces. You are the one who fought for me. I will never forget that.”

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