The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (55 page)

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Authors: Barbara C. Griffin Billig,Bett Pohnka

BOOK: The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival)
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Something happened? Hmm, what could go wrong with you? Why would you be worried about your pregnancy? Or, isn

t that what bothers you?

he asked.


Not really,

she replied slowly. Then,

Well, maybe. You see, I have a terrible feeling about it, as if something is not quite right.


You shouldn

t worry. Obstetrics is a very modern, up-to-date science. Even the most difficult pregnancies are handled routinely.


The feeling, though, I can

t get away from it, Dr. Parsons.


Ah. Then it wasn

t the desire for your husband

s papers but something else that caused you to return.


I suppose so. Subconsciously, I must have wanted to be here when the baby is delivered. That doesn

t make much sense, does it?


I

ve heard of stranger things in pregnant women,

he answered without any sign of the humor that would ordinarily have accompanied such a statement.


Beckman is the place for radiation victims, though.


True, but....


And you

re in charge,

said Sara.

He searched her face for the underlying meaning to this conversation. Her pink-hued lips were replete with invitation, but that was unknown to the woman, who felt in her face nothing more than a warm flush as occasional contractions occurred. Her slender fingers lay across the white sheet, their nails burnished with a lacquer of identical color to the natural tone of her lips.

In seriousness he asked,

What bothers you about this pregnancy?

She searched for the explanation and then admitted,

It

s hard to say. When I told my physician, he wanted to take x-rays. And, it

s ridiculous, but I just can

t allow any more radiation to enter my body. Stupid, isn

t it?


Refusing the x-rays? Not really. No, I don

t blame you, but that would be the only way to see what the fetus is like. This feeling you have...?


The kicking, for instance. I had always been told that the baby will do a lot of moving about—kicking motions—felt by the mother. I haven

t noticed anything like that. In all these months, I haven

t felt a thing that was like that.


Did you tell Dr. Archer?


Well, I haven

t talked with him all that much,

she answered.

Sara, would you mind if I listened to the heartbeat?

he asked.

He was a surgeon with a better than average record at problem-solving. Still, what could he hope to learn by hearing a fetal heartbeat when in a few hours he

d see the baby?

Receiving her permission, he applied the stethoscope and listened intently for a couple minutes. Finally he stepped back from the mound of flesh and smiled reassuringly.

It sounds fine to me, Sara. There

s nothing at all unusual about the fetal heartbeat.


Then why don

t I get the same kind of jolts I

ve heard other women describe in their pregnancies?

she asked with concern.


You have felt some motion, haven

t you?


Yes, but very slight—nothing like I expected,

she said.


Well, Sara, I don

t know. But I

m sure everything will be all right. And it won

t be too much longer until you

ll be a mother with a trimmer figure than you have now,

he said with a lightness that he did not feel.

She seemed unconvinced that there was no cause for concern.

I wish I could be sure.


You

re borrowing trouble when there

s no need to. Let

s just wait and see what happens, okay?


There

s not much choice for me, is there, Dr. Parsons?


Oh, I remember you as a fighter. I say you struggling against insurmountable odds, while lesser people gave up. This thing won

t get you—not you.


Dr. Parsons...

Sara began.


Bernard.


Bernard, what thoughts did you have after I stole that whole bottle of morphine from you?


Hmm, as I recollect, I was past the point of having thoughts. I was a robot, going about my tasks as mechanically as though I was remotely controlled by some unknown being.


By taking the entire bottle, did I leave you....did I cause anyone to suffer?


Everybody was suffering, Sara. One unit of morphine wouldn

t have made much difference.


It helped Ben. It made him unaware of the pain so that he... he...

she faltered, unable to continue.


I

m sure it did,

he hastened to complete her thought.

You know, I

ve read your recent medical history. It must have taken tremendous will power for you to attend those investigations. You probably should have been getting complete bed rest instead.


Fatigue was my biggest enemy during those first months; and it still is. But I had this compulsion, I guess you

d call it, to do my share, to add whatever I could about the conditions here. I often wonder why I was compelled to be there, to talk with the Senator, and the only suitable explanation is that because I have lost so much, I

m desperately anxious that the incident at White Water not be repeated.


Was it worth it, Sara—giving your account to Senator McCauley? Will it cause any changes do you think?


Until the formal inquiry is over, we won

t know what to expect. But one experience like I

ve had is enough for a lifetime,

she asserted.

More than enough, actually.


Not that anybody ever noticed, but most of the physicians in this region signed a petition protesting the operation of White Water until safety factors could be positively guaranteed. Of course, nobody paid any attention to us,

he said sadly.

That

s always the story—nobody pays attention.


Bernard, what will happen to Los Angeles?

asked Sara.


Time is the answer. In time, it

ll slowly revert to a normal city—the same gigantic sprawling city of six months ago,

he answered.

Its scars will disappear. Eventually.


Do you really believe that?

she asked.


That it

ll regenerate its lost parts? Sure, in that respect a city is more durable than the men who made it. After all, it

s not the only city to have been destroyed—it

s just unique in the method of its destruction.


You have great faith,

she said matter-of-factly.


In mankind. Yes, I do. When people collectively put their brains together, there

s no limit to their accomplishments.

She looked at him thoughtfully.

There

s not much recorded history of people collectively putting their brains together, though.


That

s perfectly true, Sara. However, we

ve been rudely thrust into an age where the failure to exercise our brainpower could result in our annihilation. We have a choice. Now we simply use our right to make it.

They both realized that the subject of exercising rights had been open long before the destruction of White Water.

A visible twinge of discomfort passed through her body.

Umm. They

re coming more often—the pains.


Dr. Archer doesn

t expect labor to progress this quickly,

said Bernie with sudden concern.

I

m going to give him a buzz.


Wait!

Sara asked as the last of the pain left her.

Wait, Bernard.


Yes?

he asked.

She smiled weakly at him.

I know this doesn

t make much sense, but will you stay with me in the delivery room? It

s unusual, but I

d like it if you were there.

He laid his hand reassuringly on her thin shoulder.

I had planned to assist Archer. I

ve already seen to it, Sara. I

ll be in the delivery room with you.

 

Fitting the cap down over his head, Dr. Parsons watched his colleague from the corner of his eye.

Why didn

t you slow the labor, Archie? For her first, didn

t you think it was progressing too rapidly?

The obstetrician was tying his gown.

Six hours is pretty quick for a first, but the fetal head was showing through the entrance of the vagina—quarter-size—so I figured what-the-hell, we

d go on with it.
’’

There was nothing for the surgeon to say. This was out of his domain.

They moved into the delivery room which was being readied for the patient.


Isn

t she here, yet?

Archer asked a nurse.


They

re bringing her over. It

ll be a minute.

Anesthesia machines with their tanks of gas were pulled over to the delivery table. The overhead surgical light would not be turned on until the woman

s shaved pelvis was scrubbed with antiseptic and covered with a sheet.

Dr. Parsons inspected the large mirror by which the patient could view the proceedings. Its presence, its function, made him uneasy.

What kind of anesthesia are you giving her,

he asked Dr. Archer as he turned away from the reflector.


Meperidine was given up in the room.


No. I mean during the delivery. Did she have any preference?

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