“Autumn, you have to.”
“But I’m just a midwife. I can’t perform a surgical procedure. What if …”
He sits up straight, curling his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me in close. “Go and save their lives,” he demands. “I only have a minute or two before I pass out and I need to talk you through this. You can do it, Autumn. Now get up there and do what I’ve trained you to do. The sooner you do that, the sooner you can help me.”
I swallow back my fear and nod while scrambling to my feet, that one sentence holding enough power to keep me going. I race over to the sink and tear off my bloodied gloves before quickly washing my hands and pulling on a new pair. The last thing we need is to be dealing with an infection.
I search the cupboards and find a new set of surgical tools before letting out a shaky breath and making my way back over to Ashleigh, who lays on the surgical bed, wide open and sobbing as her life hangs in the balance. Blood races from the incisions in her abdomen, dripping down onto the bed and running off the edge, sending shockwaves coursing through me.
The cesareans I’ve witnessed have all been controlled with suction and nurses there to keep it clean as we go, but there’s nothing controlled about this. “Okay,” I say, my voice filled with shaky nervousness as I try to make sense of what I’m looking at. I grab the surgical vacuum and suction the blood, giving me a clearer view of what I’m looking at. “What do I do?”
I glance down at Thorne to find his shirt in his hands, tugging at the fabric and tearing a long strip. He wraps it around his leg and pulls it tight, using it as a tourniquet to try and slow the bleeding and hopefully save us some time. “Okay,” he says through his teeth, trying to ignore the pain. “I’ve already cut through the uterus. You should be looking at the sac now. Do you see it?”
“Yes,” I rush out, putting the vacuum down and grabbing a scalpel while wondering where the fuck the security team is. Surely they should be here by now. A doctor? Nurses? The other midwives? Anyone would be useful right about now.
As I get things cleaned up, I listen as Thorne grunts and groans in pain and quickly glance up to find him moving in beside the passed-out man on the floor and pressing his hand against his neck, still determined to save him despite not deserving it one bit. But that’s just the kind of man Thorne is.
“Alright,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” he says, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “Have a feel around. You need to find the baby’s head. Make sure when you pierce through the sac, you don’t nick the baby with your scalpel.”
“Yep,” I say, focusing harder than I’ve ever focused in my life as Ashleigh continues to cry, probably wishing that she could have been anywhere else but here.
“Remember, the amniotic fluid is going to come pouring out,” he says, his words slowing. “You need to be prepared for that.”
I nod. “I remember,” I tell him before letting out a breath and going for it. The scalpel digs down into the sac with a less than perfect incision and I feel the exact moment that I make it through to the baby. Just as Thorne had warned me, the fluid comes racing out and while my natural instinct tells me to pull away, I immediately begin stretching the incision to make room for the baby to come out, just as I’ve watched Thorne do countless times before.
Once the space is wide enough, my hand slips down inside the sac and I search out the head, curling my hand around it and gently encouraging it up to the hole, hoping to whoever exists above that I’m doing this right.
The head finally emerges and I help it through the small space before grabbing anywhere I can and pulling this tiny baby free. Everything comes out with it and it’s honestly the most gruesome cesarean I’ve ever witnessed. Usually, this is done with ease, with precision, and professionalism, but this is anything but.
With the baby in my arms, wriggling around, slippery and slimy, I desperately search around. The bassinet is too far to reach with the baby still in my arms and the umbilical cord connected to her mother, so I have no choice but to lay her on the table.
I dash across the OR and drag the bassinet back before putting her in and making sure that she’s safe. I quickly cut the cord, doing the one job that I’ve actually had a good amount of experience with so far. I grab a towel and wrap the baby up to keep her warm, turning my attention back on her mother.
I stand before Ashleigh, looking down at the mess that I have to fix as her baby cries for attention beside me. I know I’m going to have to pull out the placenta but my mind is too frantic to remember if there’s a particular way that I’m supposed to do it.
“What next?” I rush out, my gaze shooting back up to Thorne’s only to find him slumped against the cupboard, passed out on the ground with blood pouring from his wound. I suck in a sharp gasp, my eyes filling with tears. “No, Thorne,” I call. “Wake up. I need you. I … I can’t remember.”
He doesn’t move and the panic surges through me. I’ve never felt so alone in my life.
Realizing that Ashleigh has been far too quiet, I look up, my gaze sweeping over her still face before falling onto the monitor beside her head. She’s quickly fading and I don’t know how to help her. This is too much. I’m not ready for this. They’re all dying.
The baby screams beside me and an overwhelming panic surges through my body as the tears stream from my eyes. Feeling more alone than ever, I do the one thing I’ve always been taught not to do, I abandon my patients and run.
My shoulder barges through the splintered door of the OR and I race out into the hall before my desperation has me collapsing to my knees, my bloodied, gloved hands held up in the air. “HELP ME,” I yell over the sound of the wailing alarm, my voice breaking as my vocal cords tear to shreds. “PLEASE, I NEED HELP. I CAN’T HELP THEM ON MY OWN.”
Nurses, midwives, and doctors come out from wherever the hell they’ve been hiding while I’ve been going through hell and start coming at me. “What happened?” Patricia demands, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me until my gaze snaps up to hers. “Autumn. What’s going on?”
“Thorne got shot and they’re all dying. I can’t save them.”
The maternity ward turns from a ghost town into a flurry of activity. Suzi races past me while Dr. Terrace runs with horror in his eyes. Patricia grabs me and hauls me up, dragging me along as she pulls me back to the OR.
People are yelling, nurses are running around, while doctors begin scrubbing in, rushing through their usual precise and lengthy routine. Dr. Terrace goes for Ashleigh while Suzi races in for the baby.
Another doctor joins Dr. Terrace and within seconds they’re working on her, trying to save her life while Suzi checks over the screaming baby, making sure that she’s still doing alright and that I didn’t somehow make matters worse.
Patricia rushes to Thorne’s side and instantly presses her fingers to his throat, checking for a pulse as I drop down beside him, once again putting pressure on his leg. “His pulse is low,” Patricia says, giving me the best news that I’ll ever hear in my life. “But it’s still there. We can save him but we need to make this fast. Get me a gurney. NOW.”