A Minor Inconvenience

Another hot one. Sweat beads off of my forehead as I skip over the curb and head downhill towards the next block.

Click-clack. My sandals snapping against the sizzling pavement. My yellow checkered dress tied at the waist, flowing in the slight breeze. Mask secured, air-locked and snug; Just the way they taught us.

The agenda for today? Picking up something special from the jeweller's shop.

Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

What now?

My fingertips loiter momentarily over the tiny buttons on my ID bracelet. It’s been ages since they sent out an alert.

I raise my arm in front of me until my wrist is in sight and press play to hear the newly added audio message.

“Fields County is facing a State of Emergency. Several exterior breaches along the south-east quadrant have been reported and are undergoing immediate military action. We are urging everyone to properly adhere to all safety restrictions due to airborne spores. Currently there is no stay at home advisory, however those most vulnerable and at risk for infection should remain in their air-locked homes until further notice.”

Long breath.

I stand frozen on the sidewalk, my eyes darting back and forth between others on the street, watching their faces as they each listen to their newly minted notification.

My mind wanders as I consider the broadcast. I’m the kind to get things done; The planner, the scheduler, the doer.

It’s not that serious. The South-east is miles away. I have to go see the jeweller today.

Before I finish my thought I’m already a few feet away, continuing the day’s journey.

A kick, perhaps a punch comes from within.

“You okay in there?” I joke, as I place one hand on the largest part of my expecting belly. If it’s hot out here I wonder how it feels in there.

Crack! The seal breaks.

Laughing to myself as I pull down my now unlocked mask, "It’s just too damn hot for this."

“Melon salad. That’s what I need,” I whisper as a large outside fruit stand appears in front of me like a desert mirage.

I take a step toward the bountiful display and start feeling my way through the ripe goodness, searching for the perfect lunch.

“Hey! Look!”

I turn instinctively towards the male voice shouting.

Dozens of men and women walk by in both directions on the sidewalk, my eyes weaving back and forth trying to determine the man’s reason for such an outburst.

In almost an instant a hurried pack of soldiers swarm the avenue, leading onlookers to stare. The uniformed men overrun the crowd, instructing bystanders to give them some room.

I turn my back, frantically trying to hide my maskless face.

Relieved breath.

They’re preoccupied.

“Must be another Bubble breach.”

My head turns away from the voice, pretending to be interested in examining the cantaloupes on display. The truth is I hate discussing breaches, what's outside The Bubble, or anything else alien related.

She doesn’t take the hint. The woman leans closer.

“I heard that things are about to get as bad as they were in the ‘50’s, you know, before The Bubble was established. We may be safe in here now, but not for long!” She runs her poorly manicured hand along the melon sign, catching my peripheral vision.

I glance up at her half concealed face. I study her eyes, searching for actual concern. She’s wanting nothing more than an opportunity for empty gossip with a stranger.

I nod in her general direction, doing my best to avoid being seen by the soldiers.

Since I'm in the vulnerable group, or so my current state suggests, I really shouldn't be skipping around town. If I’m spotted they’ll send me home, and I just have to go to the jeweller’s shop today. Feeling like a fugitive, I duck onto the nearest side street and at a snail’s pace continue down the block.

I hear voices. Lots of voices. What’s happening here? As I move toward the chatter a large group of neighbors on an empty grass lot come into view.

“Jane! Hey!”

Feeling slightly startled, I peer into the crowd. Ah, my sister-in-law, Carla. I motion my arm into a wave and waddle over to exchange niceties.

“You’re so big!” Carla exclaims as we half hug, half dance.

I shrug awkwardly. How does one respond to that?

“You look great!” I manage a smile.

It seems she senses my displeasure so she changes the subject. “Did you hear about the breaches? You really shouldn’t be out; spores and all... Are you here for the memorial?”

I shake my head. Somehow with all of the baby preparations I was completely unaware of the date today. Is it 78, no, 79 years? I can’t recall.

Carla lowers her brows. “Oh, well, um, you must just be so busy these days!”

Be nice, Jane, be nice. I make a squinty smile.

We can all be a little selfish at times. I look down at my pregnant belly, my most precious gift; Sometimes we need to be a little selfish.

“I have to pick up something from the jeweller. I’m on my way there now,” I explain, ignoring Carla’s judgement.

“It’s a gold, heart-shaped locket. A present for the baby. I have to pick it up today.”

Carla nods, her transparent mask half concealing an obvious frown.

We halfheartedly hug and I slowly start to make my way past the crowd.

As I walk away, Carla adds one last judgemental jab, "Don't forget to air-lock your mask!"

Marching away defiantly, I ignore Carla's judgement as my loose mask flaps under my chin, allowing the sweet smelling aroma of seasonal lilacs to fill my lungs.

Deep Breath.

Feeling a little faint from the heat, I stop to catch my breath near the tiny makeshift stage for the outdoor memorial.

“Check one, Check one, two” booms from the portable speakers behind me.

“Great,” I say as I roll my eyes, “Just the walking soundtrack I need.”

The speaker begins.

“Ninety-six years ago, life on this planet changed forever. At first we welcomed them; we fed and clothed them. We accepted our alien brothers and sisters, as we hoped they would accept us. We were trusting. We were wrong."

"We shall never forget how they imprisoned us. Ravaged our beautiful planet to mine for resources they desired. These beings murdered our children, turning unborn babies into monsters with their infectious poison. They turned our women into incubators; alien parasites leeching our very life to birth their ungodly spawn. All was almost lost."

"Those left were forced underground where humanity prevailed. We fought, we rebuilt, and thanks to those brave men and women, 78 years ago to this day, we are safe in The Bubble. A recreation of what life on Earth was. What it was always meant to be.”

Now back on my journey to the jewellers, I change my focus from the still audible memorial service to a more pressing matter; my raw, uncomfortable thighs. Surely I should have made a wiser outfit choice for walking in such heat. Fanning myself with my hand, I decide to take a faster route through the park.

The speaker’s voice is just a distant boom as I make my sweaty trek across the grass. I always liked how the grass felt against my sandaled toes; soft and cool. How I imagine it must be like to dip into the ocean, something not experienced on this planet for generations.

A prickling pain erupts just underneath my belly button, stopping me in my tracks.

Long breath.

Walking cramp? Baby? These days any discomfort is a mystery. I take another step.

The pain intensifies and radiates down towards my ankles.

I just need to sit. Just sit. Once I rest, I’ll be fine. The bench ahead can’t be more than 12 steps away. I just need to make it there.

The pressure builds. I count my steps.

One. Two.

It’s the heat. I should never have gone out today. Eyes squinting, never losing sight of my destination ahead. I can make it.

Three. Four.

My nerves explode. Tiny knives with retracting blades pierce my skin, my muscles, my bones. Is it time? The baby’s coming?

Gritting my teeth now, just a little further.

Five. Six.

I extend a shaking arm, trying to grab anything near. Failing to make an impact, I swipe the open air frantically.

It’s not right. The timing isn’t right.

I feel the cramping intensify. The spasms taking out my knees.

I fall to the ground, laying on my back; My dress now completely lifted, exposing my bare midriff. I can only focus on the pain.

Gripping my enlarged stomach, I can feel it. It’s like balloons expanding and popping under the surface of my skin. I lift my head, just enough to try to catch a glimpse; The skin ripples like a bubbling pot of water.

Strangers surround me.

I scream.

Then darkness.

Eyes open.

I’m almost blinded by the unbearable pain. Where am I?

I’m flying.

No.

I’m on a bed being wheeled down the hall. All I can see is the passing fluorescent lights in the ceiling.

Two. Three. Four. I count them to stay calm.

My distraction disappears as I arrive at my destination. The delivery room. It’s happening. I’m safe.

The doctor’s voice muffled behind her mask. I strain to hear the words.

“Her husband is outside”

Somehow a sense of relief washes over me as I imagine John’s face. He always wanted to be a Dad.

“Code F!” cries a voice, “Code F; We need assistance!”

Code F?

The Alarm rings.

A nurse grabs my left hand, holding tightly. I almost don’t feel it. It’s like a light caress compared to the pain in my belly. It’s not until the nurse reaches for my other wrist that I understand what’s happening. I’m being restrained.

I scream.

A reassuring face appears in my line of sight. She attaches a clear bag to the IV next to the bed.

“We’re giving you something for the pain”

I can’t feel what they’re doing; only the agony inside of me.

A sudden stench fills the room as working hands ebb and flow over me. Was that a snarl I heard? A growl? I can’t be certain.

Someone explodes through the door. The slam reverberates the room.

“The temple, do it there. Puncture! Quick!”

An inhuman screech echoes through the room. A baby’s cry? No. That’s something else.

Close eyes. Breathe. Open.

My senses blur. Am I hallucinating? “It’s just the drugs,” I say. Unsure now if I’m speaking aloud.

The alarm gains speed. I hear almost a slowed down version as the light brightens and dims, seemingly in unison with the throbbing pain.

Close eyes. Breathe. Open.

Voices become muffled, “Clamp off here!”

The pressure subsides.

I sense the collective panic but I’m feeling calm. I’m now weightless.

Close eyes. Long breath. Open.

A gloss blurs my sight. My hearing heightened momentarily.

“Another one.” The doctor snaps her glove. “Third this week.”

Long breath.

“Call the hotline,” the doctor instructs, “then bring her husband to Section B for Parasite Protocol debrief.”

Long breath, long breath.

Close eyes.