Death In The Bunker

The bunker shook around us. Whatever was happening above ground, it was happening in full force, and hard. The lights flickered as as everything resettled, but Damon was just thankful they stayed on.

Jesus, this could be so much worse, he thought as he considered the situation without lights.

Damon heard Jess scream in the next room and snapped back to the reality of their situation.

They were in their bunker. The end of the world was happening above them. And their baby was on the way.

He grabbed the sterilizers he needed, the gloves and front-facing gown for the delivery. He had been a nurse for years, and when he had wanted to start trying he had transferred to labor and delivery so he would have the practice he needed. Now practice was over and it was time for the real deal.

Jess was still screaming through clenched teeth as he walked in, setting down all the supplies and materials he had gathered, stripping off his shirt and donning the front-gown and gloves. He checked his wife's dilation—almost perfect, and he thought he could see the top of their baby's head.

“Deep breaths, love, deep breaths,” Damon intoned gently. Jess was doing a great job, and she didn't really need the help. What she did need was to know that she wasn't alone. “You're both doing great.”

Damon glanced up at her and she smiled at him, her face streaked with sweat, making her golden hair stick to her in the unflattering yellow light. Even now, she still looked so beautiful.

Another contraction. More forced breathing, more screaming. They were already a dozen hours into labor, but things were picking up now. With a light, panicky flutter, Damon had a feeling they would be holding their baby soon.

Hold on to that for later, he told himself, pressing down on that fluttery excitement. Right now, you need to get them both through this in one piece.

The bunker shook again.

And pray the world doesn't end too much before then.

He checked her dilation again. Ten centimeters.

“Alright love,” He told Jess. She blinked sweat from her beautiful eyes and tried to focus on him. “It's time. You're fully ready. When you feel the next contraction, you have to push as much as you can.” Jess did her version of a frown, adorably small wrinkles appearing in her forehead between her eyebrows in the way that Damon loved. She was too happy a person to have a proper frown; she could never look actually angry.

The next contraction came, and she pushed.

Baby Jasmine sat on Jess's chest, crying and covered in bodily fluids and cloths. Jess, for her part, was doing her best to keep her head up to watch the newest piece of beauty birthed into the world.

As the bunker shook from distant rumblings, he prayed she wasn't the last.

He stripped the glove from one hand and went to grab an extra pillow from the storage closet, tucking it behind Jess's head and folding it down to support her neck while she stared at our beauty. She turned her head toward him, squinting her eyes with a grateful smile. Damon smiled back.

They had done it.

He leaned down, keeping a small bit of distance so as not to rub off any fluids from the gown onto their limited supplies of bedding. He touched his little one with a gloveless hand, rubbing her sweet head of hair. She was making the sweetest cooing noises, rubbing her face with her tiny hands and wiggling from side to side. She seemed like she was about to get fussy, probably from being hungry. He opened his mouth to suggest Jess move her over to her breast so she could suckle, when he noticed the limp arms and Jess's relaxed neck. Her head hung to the side, still looking toward him, completely slack.

He checked her pulse, feeling panic rise in every fiber of his being.

He felt nothing beneath his fingers.

He went numb, but he knew he had to act. He allowed the numbness to flow through him, and he used it to cover what he would have to deal with later. Acting carefully, he moved baby Jasmine across her mother's body. Mercifully, she latched on immediately and sat happily munching away, uncaring about the tremors of the bunker around her or the stillness of her mother beneath her.

Damon took a deep, shaky breath. Jess had died, and the tears were coming now. The bunker shook again, less violently than before but for longer. The delivery was over, but He knew that his own apocalyptia had just begun.

When baby Jasmine was ready, he tucked her up and laid her on his chest, letting her feel the warmth of his body to help her stay comfortable. She would be hungry again soon, but her would deal with that later. Leaning back at a sharp angle and holding her with one hand, he reached out and undid the clasp of Jess' silver heart-shaped locket. It would be all that Jasmine had of her.

He clutched the last living memory of his wife, and delved deeper into the bunker.