Refer to page 269-275 of The Blondes by Emily Schultz.
I was running away from him, fast. He's slowly catching up, I think he might catch me, bam! I fell onto the concrete, hard. However, it wasn't my face smashing again the ground that freaked me out, or the way my arm twisted as it smacked into the concrete; what I noticed the most was how my stomach banged straight into the ground, and that's when I knew.
I am usually not a very strong girl, but with fear and adrenaline, you'd be surprised what I am capable of. I knocked the officer off of me. I hit him hard in the head. Once he was on the ground, I shot up and kicked him a few times, just to be sure that he was unconscious. Then, I ran. I knew backup would be on its way, but I also knew that I couldn't deal with this tragedy, at least not at the WEE.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours; suddenly, I didn't hear the sirens of police cars anymore. I knew that I had the get to the hospital. I felt the blood running down my legs, and in my heart, I knew that something wasn't right, but I just needed to confirm it. Then, I saw it. There was a parked Grand Caravan in a Tim Horton's parking lot, it was turned on; I knew I had to act fast. I darted towards the car, praying that the keys were in the ignition and that it was not an autostart. Lucky for me, it wasn't.
I jumped into the vehicle, put it into drive, and sped away. As I checked my mirrors, I saw someone chasing after me; but I didn't care. I drove around, hoping to find a hospital. I know Hamilton isn't far away from Toronto, but I can honestly say that I have never been in such haste to get to a hospital. That's when I saw the big "H" sign, which informed everyone in the vicinity that the oversized building with billboards of sick kids was indeed a hospital.
I parked the car in a parking garage on a fairly high level, hoping that if anyone thought to look for the vehicle here, they would give up. I ran into the emergency, quickly fabricating a story that I had fallen down the stairs at home while I was on my way to the kitchen and landed hard on my stomach. The nurse was asking me all sorts of questions, if there was bleeding, nausea or vomiting, but then she asked me some other questions that I didn't think should apply, like whether I had come into contact with someone sick in the past 48 hours. I just fell down the stairs, I thought to myself, but then I realized, these were screening questions to see if I was infected with the virus, even though I had no hair!
The nurse proceeded to ask me questions and then I landed myself in the waiting room; I guess I passed. After a 3 hour wait, I finally got in to see Dr. Jamieson. I explained to him what happened and he examined me. He told me that my baby was in distress and that they had to perform a C-Section right away. This is when I really started to wish that Karl knew about our baby; going through this alone is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I especially feel bad because I was going to have to abortion, and now that I accepted the fact that there is going to be a mini version of myself in this world, it might be taken away from me in the blink of an eye.
Once they took the baby out, I didn't hear the screaming and crying that is always in birthing videos, all I heard was silence, dead silence.
They placed the baby in the incubator and told me that they would do everything they could, but that I need to prepare myself for the worst. A couple hours later, all that preparation came in handy.
Both the doctor that performed the C-Section and the pediatrics doctor came to my hospital bed and told me "I'm sorry, we did everything we could, but your baby didn't make it." First, came a lot of pain and sorrow, but then, I saw blonde hair peaking out of the pediatric doctors cap. I screamed "It was you, wasn't it?" I took a deep, sharp breath, "You killed my baby, you're infected, I can't believe that you did this to my baby!" The doctors both repeated their condolences and left me alone. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was in the psych ward.
Apparently, as I was sleeping, I was muttering threats to kill the doctor; they figured that I was just in shock and overwhelmed with the news, but because of the epidemic, they just wanted to make sure I wasn't infected by SHV.
After a week of being under observation for both my mental and physical state, I was released from the hospital. It was weird being free. I expected that the Women's Entry and Evaluation would try to track me down, yet here I am. Since I had no where to go, and didn't want to risk driving a vehicle that was most likely reported as stolen, I just started walking. It felt weird being alone after so many months of having my baby, or mine and Karl's baby, to talk to. I was getting fairly restless, so I decided to sit on a park bench just for a few minutes. The wind was starting to pick up, and before I knew it, the Toronto Star flew over. I grabbed it, not thinking, but when I saw the cover, I was shocked.
"Hamilton's Women's Entry and Evaluation Burned Down by Infected Patients" the headline read. Just below it, it said "Last Week, a room full of blonde women who were being kept in the WEE charged out of their room, attacked the guards, and then proceeded to light the place on fire. There are no known survivors." Those few sentences hit me like a sharp, cool knife, if I had been there one more day, I would be dead. That moment changed my life.
I knew that I wouldn't be satisfied if I died the way that I would have: Karl not knowing that he was going to be a father, my mother not knowing that she would have be a grandmother, and a thesis taking over my live. In that exact moment, I decided that I needed to get to Toronto, and make all of these changes.
I didn't have my wallet, and didn't want to risk stealing another vehicle, and I also knew that if I begged for money on the streets, people would be skeptical to donate because of the virus. I knew I had to steal the money, so I waited until it became dark outside, and watched for people who walked with their wallets in their back pockets and quietly followed them, hoping to quickly snag their money. I know this sounds like the most idiotic idea ever, but trust me, when you're friends with someone like Larissa, you learn a thing or two. Before I knew it, I had more than enough money to take a bus to Toronto, and I did just that.
I was so nervous to see everyone after so many months away. I wasn't sure how anyone would react to the fact that I was pregnant, and how Larissa would react to the fact that I wasn't anymore. I decided that it would be best to go to Larissa's house first, I knew that she would help me through telling my mom and Karl, and that she would be able to console me.
However, when I got to her house, the windows were smashed open. I decided to be cautious. I slowly peaked inside of the place where the window once was. I heard voices, mens voices, screaming "Put your hands up right now!". I followed the sound of the voices and ended up peering into her kitchen window. I saw Larissa smile a devious smile that I have never seen on her face before, watched her charge at one of the men, who turned out to be a police officer while her husband and son laid lifelessly on the floor, and then I heard the sharp, clean sound which seemed so familiar, but so surreal. It wasn't until I watched a small circle of a red liquid suddenly stain and expand, drenching her entire shirt that I realized that my best friend had been killed. "We couldn't save this one," said the one policeman, "she was too far gone." With that, I left. I decided that I would go see my mother next, in a crisis, mothers always know what to do.
I have never been so grateful to see my mother before. I took the bus over to her house, expecting the worst. However, I knocked on the door and was greeted by my stepfather with a big hug. I walked into the living room and found my mother curled up on the couch. "Hi mom," I said "it's been a long time." She turned her head and looked at me in awe "Hazel, baby! Is that really you?"
As I got settled in my mother informed me that for the past two months, she has been trying to convince herself that I was still alive. "I had to close my salon," she said solemnly, "there was an attack at the beauty parlour down the street; I just couldn't risk it anymore." It seemed that a lot of buildings were run down, and that several businesses shut down. "It's getting bad," my stepfather said "people are staying cooped up inside. I wasn't even sure if I should answer the door." My worst fear was confirmed, the Blondes Fury is getting worse.
I told my mother about my baby, and she told me that before me, she actually had a miscarriage. "It's hard now," she expressed "it will always be hard, but it will become easier with time." She also told me that my baby died because it was too early, and that it couldn't have been the doctors fault because all medical staff had to go through a long screening process every time they entered and left the hospital. Surprisingly, it made me feel better, knowing that my baby because of the fall, and not because of the virus. Knowing that made me feel more in control.
After spending some time with my mother, whom I could finally completely relate to, I decided that it was time to find Karl. I felt as if he needed to know that he was at least going to be a father. I thought out of courtesy, I should call his home first. There was no answer, however the answering machine explained that him and Grace were staying at their cottage for the month. I knew where their cottage was, I had been there before. I borrowed my mother's car and left right away.
I arrived and saw Grace's Mini Cooper in the driveway. "Great." I muttered under my breath. I decided that I had to bite the bullet and go to the door. I knocked three times and waited. To my surprise, Karl answered the door, and there was no sign of Grace.
"We were going to have a baby?" Karl asked, already knowing the answer, "Yes." I answered simply. Karl was devastated, Grace didn't want kids, so this was his only shot, and unfortunately, it didn't happen. "Where's Grace?" I asked curiously, "Actually, she went to the supermarket two weeks ago. She was taking a while, but you know how women can be while shopping. Anyway, I turned on the TV and on the news they were talking about a blondes attack. Apparently, an entire team of blonde cashiers became infected, and murdered everyone in the store, the store Grace was shopping at, and then I got the phone call." replied Karl. "Oh my god, I am so sorry Karl!" I exclaimed. "It's okay," he replied "we were in the midst of divorce, I was trying to get a hold of you." Karl and I continued to talk all night.
After a few days, Karl decided that I should move into the cottage with him; we were both going through tough times and needed support. Karl and I both drove separately to Toronto in order to drop my mothers car off. I introduced him to my mother and stepfather and they both seemed to take an extreme liking to him. I informed them about what my new living situation would be, and they quickly accepted it.
After eight months, Karl and I had fallen into deep love. It helped being so secluded while waiting for the Blondes Fury to blow over. I am actually pregnant with another child, and this time, I am ecstatic. My thesis finally came together and is going to be published. Everything is finally going the way I want it to, and for the first time in my life, I am truly happy.