“I’ve got you,” I tell her, reaching up for the seat belt that comes across her lap.
I push the bright red button to unlatch it and she falls. I cradle her upper back and stretch out beneath her to guide her down, trying to ease her fall.
“Ahh,” she whimpers, “mmm. I…need to push.” I see the strain stretch her features as her body takes control of her.
She’s pushing.
She’s having the fucking baby.
“Fuck!”
I have to get her out of this car.
I shift her off me, turn, and crawl, reaching for the door latch. I lift it and push on the door, but it doesn’t budge. “Shit.” I find the lock mechanism and lift it up, praying there isn’t some fucking child lock engaged, too. I lift the latch again and shove. It budges. I shove again, then again, and finally, the door slides open. “Thank fuck. Hang on, baby,” I tell Anya, but she has no awareness of me or what I’m doing.
I crawl out through the small opening I’ve managed to create and scramble to my feet. I grab the outside edge of the door and pull back hard, dragging it open as far as it will go. I have to force it as it digs into the ground, hauling snow with it as it drags. I drop to my hands and knees and crawl back in just as Anya’s head drops back and she screams.
“He’s coming! Hurry, Ezra.”
I have enough adrenaline rushing through me to flip the fucking car back over if I have to. I slip my arms beneath her back, grip her by the armpits, and fucking pull. I hear movement from the front of the car as I tug her out—Kostya groaning, the click of his buckle, and the rustle of him shifting from his seat. But I don’t have time to worry about him.
Anya’s backside runs over broken glass in the snow as I tug her free and I’m kicking myself for not brushing it out of the way first. Her soft pink gown snags on it, some of the tulle tearing away. As I pull her free, I see the left behind patches of fabric stuck to rough edges of the broken window in the snow. I move her to a small clearing between the overturned car and the dirt path we traveled, gently laying her on the fresh blanket of snow that covers the ground.
“Can…can you walk?” I ask, kneeling beside her. Unease rolls a wave of nausea through my stomach at the eerie silence of the forest around us. “We have to meet that helicopter, baby. We’re so close.”
She shakes her head furiously, sweat coating her forehead, though the temperature outside is below freezing. “No…no…I have to—” She presses up onto her elbows, bends her knees, and parts her legs. Her face strains and she drops her chin toward her chest as she squeezes her eyes shut.
She’s pushing.
She’s pushing and I’m…I’m frozen.
How does she even know what to do?
I’m literally shocked into stillness because I can’t wrap my head around what the fuck is happening right now. She throws her head back and screams before gasping for a deep breath. She turns her head to look at me, just for a moment. Her eyes catch mine and she unknowingly feeds me her instinct, her strength, the depth of her courage. Suddenly, I know exactly what I need to do.
I dash back to the car and reach inside, pulling out the large black blanket we hid under to get past the gate. I rush back to Anya as I fold it in half, dropping to my knees at her feet. I wedge it between her legs and lay it on the ground, scooting in close and grasping the hem of her torn and tattered gown. I pull it up over her knees and tear her underwear down her legs, pulling them off and tossing them aside. That’s when I get my first view of the nightmare that’s happening to my blue-eyed girl.
I can see him.
I can see the baby’s head.
How the fuck is she doing this?
“Oh, shit. Okay. Anya, I see his head. There’s only one way out of this, baby, and you’ve just got to push, okay?”
“You can see him?” she pants.
I nod. “Yeah, he’s…he’s right there.”
I watch as her face pinches tight and she groans with another contraction. She takes a deep breath and bears down with all her might.
She pushes for beat after beat, and then she screams.
It shakes through the trees and echoes in the dark forest and it completely stops my heart. There’s nothing except for her scream and the darkness and the trees and the deafening silence. Large snowflakes drift to the ground all around us. The long beats of silence after her piercing scream reminds me just how alone we truly are. Kostya hasn’t made an appearance and we’re all alone in this now. All she has is me and all I have is her and the horror of this moment. We’re stranded in this forest as she brings life into the world.
She takes another breath and pushes again, her strength and endurance bewildering. I beg my mind to switch away from the horror, to let adrenaline and instinct take over and help me help her—but fuck, this horror is so real. The baby’s head is moving gradually, little by little, forcing his way out until she stops pushing to take another breath.
“Come on.” I try to encourage her. “Come on, Anya. Don’t stop. Push. It’s almost done, he’s coming.”
Another breath.
Another push.
Then again.
And again.
His head slips out from the opening and I have no fucking clue how this is physically possible.
“Holy shit. Shit,” I mutter, reaching for him, carefully wrapping my hands around his tiny head. “He’s almost out. Push.”
I tug lightly and somehow, his shoulders slide free as Anya bears down one last time. With a final agony-filled scream, she’s done what seems like the impossible. He’s out. Her baby. Maybe my baby. Definitely our baby.
Beats pass in silence.
Silence, deafening stillness as Anya and I both hold our breath. But then a cry from our baby’s quivering lips bursts into the night and I feel…I feel…fucking everything.
“Blanket,” Anya pants out. “Cover him.”
I set him down on the blanket between her legs and start to wrap him in it, shielding him from the frigid cold surrounding us. I lift him, wanting to show Anya, but the white snow that was hidden by the blanket instantly turns crimson. Blood rushes out of her, spilling fast and dark.
I look up at her just as her elbows slip out from beneath her and she falls onto her back, her knees slumping to the side as she instantly slips from consciousness.
“No!” I shout, shuffling to her side on my knees, still holding the baby in my arms. “Anya…”
She’s still, silent, and I don’t know what to do. The adrenaline in my veins spike again, but the frequent ebb and flow is draining me, making the chemical rush useless other than to agitate and cloud my senses.