Chosen (Second Sight) (15 page)

“Get out of the way,” Mac said into the phone. “And follow us.”

Kayla wailed.

“Give me your hand,” Isabelle yelled. Kayla gasped, tried to suck in air and sputtered. “Kayla, give me your hand!”

Mac kept his foot down on the gas and felt the car at the limit of its handling capability. It wasn’t going to do Kayla any good to roll it. They were coming up on the Volvo fast.

Mac pulled into the lane for opposite traffic.

“Breathe,” Isabelle said. “Squeeze my hand and inhale. You’re doing great.”

They passed the Volvo, another blur of red on the passenger side this time. Mac had no idea whether Susan could see Isabelle in the back seat. But when he glanced in the side view mirror, he saw the Volvo swerve, quickly correct, and stop falling behind.

“Isabelle?” Mac said.

“I don’t know the area either,” she said, turning to him.

“Oh my
god!
” Kayla shrieked.
 

“All right,” Mac said. “I’ve got it. It’ll be quicker than a hospital.” He glanced at Isabelle’s worried face. “Trust me.”

Isabelle turned back to Kayla.

“He’s got it,” Isabelle said. “You–”

Mac swerved onto the main road, tires screeching.

Isabelle nearly tumbled on top of Kayla.

“You concentrate on breathing,” Isabelle finished. “How many seconds between contractions?”

“What?” Kayla yelled as her voice was cut off by one.

“One one-thousand,” Isabelle said loudly. “Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.”

Mac stopped listening as the road up ahead disappeared.

He hit the brakes and turned into the skid. The road slid into view. A hairpin turn.
 

“Come on,” he muttered, the wheel shuddering in his fists, the momentum of the car slowly tipping it. “Come on,” he said, easing off the brake, backing off the turn. The driver’s side was tilting upward. There were only two wheels on the pavement. The double yellow divider passed through the headlights and he jerked the wheel hard, straightening it out as the car landed with a thud, four wheels on the pavement.

“Twelve one-thousand,” Isabelle yelled and she kept counting. “Count with me, Kayla. Fourteen one-thousand. Fifteen…”
 

“One-thousand,” Kayla managed to get out. “Sixteen one-thousand!”

“You’re doing great,” Isabelle said, as Mac swerved hard into the next corner. “The baby’s not coming…” Isabelle said as her shoulder hit Mac’s seat. “…for
hours
.”

Kayla kept counting.

“Breathe now,” Isabelle said, as the tires squealed and she pushed away from the seat. “Eighteen one-thousand.”

Mac needed to get to the phone but there was no way he was going to take his hand off the wheel. He swerved again, leaning into the curve, crossing the yellow line, just as headlights flared to life up ahead. He jerked the wheel right. His rear view mirror clipped the other car as its horn blared, only to fade quickly behind them. He steered into the next turn, tires screeching.

Back and forth, curve after curve, they hurtled down the canyon toward the bright lights of the valley far below. He hadn’t had to step on the gas for at least a mile but as the road rose up in front, he gunned the engine again.
 

“Two-hundred!” Kayla screamed.
 

“Good!” Isabelle yelled as another contraction claimed Kayla’s voice. “Two-hundred seconds between. Start again! One one-thousand. Doing good!”

The twists and turns didn’t seem to end.

“
Mac
,” Isabelle said.

“I know,” he said.

Two-hundred seconds, barely more than two minutes. The contractions were coming fast. They weren’t going to make it to a hospital. He grabbed the phone between his legs. Took his foot off the gas. He raised the phone up to the windshield so he didn’t take his eyes from the road. Quickly, he dialed 911. Gripping both the phone and steering wheel, they skidded into another turn.
 

“I have to push!” Kayla shrieked.

“Then push!” Isabelle said. “You’re doing great, Kayla. Go ahead and push.”
 

Mac saw the 911 call go through just as the phone slipped from his grip. He just had time to straighten out the wheel before the next turn. Then he reversed direction.

“This is an emergency,” he yelled. “I’ve dropped the phone and I can’t hear you.” He hit the brakes as the car leaned into the shallow bank of a wide turn. Another car passed them on its way up and didn’t kill the high beams in time. Mac could barely see. “We’re having a baby in the car and I need medical support. I’m heading…” he jerked the wheel to the left and heard the right fender grind against the metal emergency railing. Sparks flew into the black night and disappeared over a precipice. “…north, in a Toyota Camry, on Topanga Canyon. I say again, I have a baby being born in the back seat and I’m heading north on Topanga Canyon in a gray Toyota Camry. We need an ambulance.”

Mac had no idea if he could be heard.

“Forty-five one thousand,” Isabelle said, as Kayla finished her push. “Good, Kayla. Doing great,” Isabelle panted. “I’m going to check you.”
 

Though it seemed like the turns would never end, the road up ahead looked level, the turns wider.
 

Is that cross-traffic up ahead?

“Help me out, Kayla,” Isabelle said. Mac hit the gas. “Separate your knees.” Mac could no longer see Isabelle. She must be off to the side. “Separate your…okay! Good!”

That was a traffic light up ahead. Green turning yellow. Mac gunned it.

“I see the head,” Isabelle said. “The top of the head, Kayla! I see it!”

“Oh god!” Kayla wailed.

“Your baby’s here,” Isabelle said.
 

The light turned red. Cross-traffic began to move. Mac laid on the horn and barreled through. But someone must not have heard. Mac yanked the wheel. Tires squealed from every direction. Glass shattered–the right headlight–and the car lurched sideways but, as he yanked in the opposite direction, it straightened out.
 

He glanced into the side view mirror and, to his shock, the red Volvo followed him through the intersection.
 

“Push!” Isabelle yelled but her voice was drowned out by Kayla’s scream.

Mac dodged the slower traffic around him. Up ahead, freeway traffic streamed left and right on the overpass. Suddenly, flashing red lights illuminated the underside of the cement. It was an ambulance and, behind it, a black and white! He couldn’t hear the sirens but Mac hit the brakes. He skid sideways into the empty median, Isabelle’s door facing them.

The car had yet to come to a stop but Mac yanked up on the parking brake and killed the engine. As the car vibrated and shuddered, coming finally to rest, Mac jumped out of his door. Finally he heard the sirens and the smell of burnt rubber filled his nose. He raced to Isabelle’s door, pulled it open, and crouched, ready to catch her.
 

But she wasn’t there.

Instead, Mac found himself staring at the bloody back seat and the dirty soles of Kayla’s feet. Her hospital gown was drenched and lay flopping between her thighs. Isabelle had wedged herself between the back seat and the driver’s seat and was holding up Kayla’s head. Mac nearly grabbed Kayla and drug her out when he saw the umbilical. The curled cord of flesh tugged at the gown, vibrating, dripping and, he finally realized, led up to Kayla’s chest.
 

And there, a tiny body lay quivering, covered with blood and something white, little hands and feet wavering in the air. It was slick and pale, wrinkled and puffy-faced–and the most
incredible
thing Mac had ever seen.

The tiny mouth gaped open in an almost perfect “O” and, with eyes squeezed shut, it cried.

Kayla’s hands gently gathered the tiny being to her chest.

“It’s a boy,” Isabelle whispered and Mac finally looked at her, as she turned her tear-stained, ecstatic, and amazed face to him. “It’s a
boy
.”

Geoffrey had never seen Maurice like this. Not even when he’d abandoned the clinic. Shooting a gun in the air? Shooting at people for godsakes? Chasing someone outside the commune? Geoffrey was glad the Jeep had never even caught sight of her. What were they going to do if they caught her? As it was, the gunshots had roused nearly everybody. It’d taken him the better part of an hour to get them to go back to their beds. Coyotes, he’d said. Keep the little ones indoors.
 

Maurice sat on the floor next to the bar with the bottle of vodka. The moment Geoffrey had discovered him, he’d ordered the guards out.

“So her mother came and got her,” Geoffrey said. “
So what?
It’s not the first time.”

Maurice finished a swig from the bottle and set it down hard on the floor next to him.

“Leave it to my half-witted brother,” he said, slurring a little.

Geoffrey instantly bristled but Maurice was in a dangerous mood. So Geoffrey did what he always did when he was unsure. He waited.

“Well, how did mommy know where she was?” Maurice asked. “We’ve never had an outsider at the birthing building, have we?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “No, we haven’t. And how did she overpower the guard there?” Maurice took another swallow and let the bottle slam into the floor with a sloshy thunk. “I know. She just walked up and asked him to take his clothes off.”

“She was…determined,” Geoffrey said, staring at Maurice.
 

Why
was he taking this so hard? It was
one
child. One of dozens.
Let it go.

Maurice laughed–a quiet, mirthless laugh that sent a shiver down Geoffrey’s spine.

“Change is hard,” Maurice whispered, nodding a little, his head tipping forward too much. “No one knows that more than me.” He slowly shook his head, the anger switching to sorrow too quickly. “I just don’t think I can do that again.”

Do what again? What is he talking about?

“Well,” Maurice said, slowly pushing to his feet. Geoffrey tried to help him up but Maurice shoved him away, dropped the bottle with a crash of shattered glass, and slumped against the bar. “What’s done is done.”

Then he leaned over the sink and threw up.

Isabelle watched Mac struggle with the t-shirt for a few moments. How he’d ever got it on, she didn’t know. Though she hadn’t bothered to change out of the purple scrubs, she’d switched the bloody, latex gloves for her own at the hospital.
 

“Maybe I should just get a pair of scissors,” she said, grinning. “Although,” she said, stepping around the bed toward him. “It’s a good look for you.”

The tight, thin fabric had left nothing to the imagination, the material stretched tight as a drum between his pecs. The sleeves didn’t even reach the bottom of his bulging biceps. After the commotion had died down at the hospital, Isabelle had noticed the way that Mac had been noticed. Not a single woman had failed to take at least a little look.
 

He paused, grinning at her as she stepped into his embrace. But then his gaze shifted downward and he scowled. She had to look down as well.

Though the scrubs were stained, Isabelle had purposely left them on. From the moment the ambulance had arrived to when they’d left Susan with Kayla at the hospital, everyone had assumed she was a nurse. After all, she’d delivered a baby–a new
life
. And the glow of that little miracle was something she didn’t want to fade.

“Earth to Isabelle,” Mac said quietly.

She had to laugh.

“Cloud nine to Mac,” she answered, looking up at him.

He grinned and hugged her tighter.

“You know you were wonderful,” he said.

Her face and ears flushed hot.

“My part was
easy
,” she said. “I practically just caught him.”

“Not just the baby,” Mac said. “But Darren too. Kayla might still be at the commune if not for him.”

“Oh my god,” Isabelle muttered, gripping Mac’s waist. “
Darren
. Do you think he’s all right?”

“I think he’ll be fine,” Mac said nodding. “He’s a smart kid. Besides, we haven’t seen the last of him.”

“We haven’t?”

“If the Green Earth Commune uses legal firearms on their own property,” Mac said, “the Bureau can’t object. But, if they keep people there against their will, people like Kayla,
and
threaten her life with those guns? That’s something the Bureau can do something about.” He smiled down at her. “We’ll see Darren again.”

“Does Ben want you to go back?” she asked.

“Not Ben,” Mac said, his smile fading. He cleared his throat. “Scanlon. He’s my new boss. I got the transfer.”

“Mac!” Isabelle said, hugging him. “That’s great!”

Though he hugged her back, it wasn’t
much
of a hug.

“Is it?” he asked.

She quickly drew back from him and looked up into his serious face.

“Of
course
it is,” she said.
 

He nodded a little though he didn’t smile.

She took her arms from around his waist and stepped back. Though surprised, he let her go. She went to the nightstand that Mac usually used and pulled open the big drawer on the bottom.
 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

It’d been years since she’d seen it but she knew it was in this drawer. She rummaged around in the bottom and heard it sliding around. Finally her gloved fingers found it and she managed to pry it off the flat bottom of the drawer. As she stood and turned back to Mac, she held it up between them–a key to her apartment.

“The manager gave me two,” she said, coming closer.

Though he stared at it, Mac shook his head.

“Isabelle,” he said. “It’s been…quite the day. Maybe you should think about this.”

“I’m done with that,” she said, picking up his hand and placing the key in it. “Sometimes my brain gets in the way. This is what my heart says.”

She closed his fingers over it.

He gazed down at their hands together for a few moments and then stared into her eyes. The serious look on his face only deepened and, for a moment, she thought he might give the key back. She held her breath. Finally, though, he laid his other hand over hers.