Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
She nods in my peripheral, too focused on her breathing to reply.
Please let us make it in time. Please don't let my son be born in my truck…
“Um, Atlas,” Nora whispers as she grabs my hand, clutching it tight. “You m-might wanna hurry.”
“Going as fast as I can, Pip.” I rub the back of her hand with my thumb. “Traffic's—”
“You don't understand.” She's nearly panting. “My wa-water just broke.”
“Shit!” Every single part of me wants to panic, but I can't. Nora needs me to keep my cool. “Okay. Um. Fuck.”
“Sums it up,” she groans, her entire body tensing yet again. “I... I don't think we're gonna make it.”
“Just breathe through it, Pip. I'll get us there, I promise.”
If I could, I’d take every ounce of pain and worry she's feeling and pull it into my body so she wouldn't have to suffer, but life unfortunately doesn't work like that.
I spot a break in traffic and flick on my blinker before merging into the outside lane. “You're doing so good, Nora. We're almost there.”
“Atlas... I'm not... oh, God.”
“What?” I ask, panic clawing up the back of my throat. “What is it?”
“There's so much pressure. It... I don't know. I think I need to...”
Horror dawns as her words truly sink in. “Push... you need to push.”
She nods. “I think so. It's... oh, God. Pull over! Please, Atlas, pull over!”
Once again, I pop my blinker on, this time pulling onto the shoulder, where I throw it into park and flip on my hazards.
“Tell me what you need.”
“To get this baby out of me!” she wails. She's a mess with glassy eyes, rosy cheeks, and wild hair—and yet, she's never looked more perfect to me. “What do we do, Atlas?”
“I'm gonna help you into the back seat and see if we can't get you at least somewhat comfortable. Then I'm going to call 911, okay?”
She sniffles and nods as she unbuckles her seat belt.
“Stay here and let me come around to help you.”
It takes a second for a break in the relentless line of cars rushing past before I can safely hop out and make my way around to her side of the truck.
When I open her door, Nora practically throws herself into my arms. “I'm scared,” she whispers, as I guide her to the back seat.
“I know you are, but I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you.”
“You can't say that,” she objects, but I silence her with a soft kiss.
“I can and I will. Now, I want you to prop your pillow against the door and try to get comfy. Can you do that for me?”
She nods and positions her pillow just so before reclining back against it.
“You good?”
She tenses as yet another contraction works its way through her. “Not really.”
“I think I have a blanket in the bed from our last bonfire. I'm gonna run and check, okay?”
Nora nods and I take off toward the tailgate, sliding my phone from my pocket and firing off a text to Ellis as I go.
Me
It’s GO time. Didn’t make it to the hospital. On 27 just past mile marker 15.
Sure enough, there's a soft flannel blanket in the back of my truck, along with two bottles of water. I repocket my phone and grab my found supplies before rushing back to Nora.
My phone buzzes and I quickly scan Ellis’s reply as I rush back to Nora.
Ellis
10-4.
By the time I make it back to Nora, she's kicked off her leggings and is on her knees in the back seat, bracing herself on the center console, as she pants.
“How you doing, pretty girl?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She glares in reply as a bead of sweat rolls down her temple, despite the frigid air.
“Got a blanket and some water,” I offer lamely, setting my bundle down on the seat beside her. “Gonna call us some backup now, okay?”
Nora huffs and nods, a pained cry escaping her lips. “I need to push, Atlas. Oh, God.”
I hit dial, put the call on speaker, and climb into the back seat with her.
“911. What's your emergency?”
“My wife is in labor. We're on the side of 27 and not going to make it to the hospital.”
“How many weeks pregnant is she?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“How far apart are her contractions?”
“It seems like they’re relentless.”
“Okay, sir. Has her water broken?”
“Yes. She’s… she’s pushing.” A thread of panic bleeds into my voice as I think of all the ways this could go wrong.
“Stay calm for me, paramedics will be there soon. Do you have a blanket or anything—”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good. If the baby’s born before the ambulance gets there, I want you to wrap the baby in the blanket, okay? Then you’ll need to wipe the baby’s face. You may also need to clear the airway.”
“I… how the fuck do I do that?”
The dispatcher rattles off instructions, and then says, “I'm going to stay on the phone with you until paramedics arrive.”