Chapter Sixty-Three: Fire
Forty-six years old with a five-year-old child. It didn't help that Christine looked older than her years and nothing like her daughter. Her life had not been easy, and neither had Gloria's. The little girl's biological mother had been a cocaine addict and God knew what else, abandoning her tiny, beautiful premature baby in the hospital where Christine was chief resident. Christine had wanted children since her own childhood, but a series of medical misfortunes and genetic problems had forever closed that door to her. Her husband of two years had divorced her for this when she was twenty-four. Christine's response was to pour all of her anger and frustration with the world into medical school and then her hospital, making advances and elevating herself bodily through the glass ceiling up to the top.
One rainy day in December a few years ago, one of her med students had asked that she come downstairs. Being chief resident was an impressive thing, especially when one was as revered and even feared as Christine was. Interns scurried out of her way like mice and doctors seemed to be bowing and scraping as Jacquie the med student led her on purposefully.
Lying in a clear hospital bassinet, with enough wires and tubes coming out of her for her to be some kind of wee cyborg, was the tiniest, dearest baby Christine had ever seen. As small as the bassinet was, it seemed that five such babies could have fit in it.
"My first delivery," Jacquie announced proudly and sadly at the same time, idly twirling the polished wooden stick she insisted on carrying. "Two and a half pounds exactly, and her mother's gone." Christine could hardly find a patch of the wee one's skin not covered with wires to press her stethoscope against. "BP's well under seventy, heart rate's steady since we got her on oxygen, and she's opened her eyes twice."
"Brain monitor?"
"Everything seems alright."
"And I'm here why?"
Jacquie managed to look terribly offended.
"Your student of three years wants to show her mentor her first delivery? Someone wants the opinion of the great Christine Montgomery as to whether this little girl can survive? God, you're a bitch sometimes!"
"What was that?"
Jacquie stepped back.
"I'm sorry."
"No, that noise!" Christine bent over the bassinet. The tiny baby had her eyes open. She made the little sad hopeless noise again. She wasn't even strong enough to cry, just make that short gasp of pure defeat. In that moment, Christine knew she had to keep this baby alive.
Jacquie picked up the guitar that was sitting on a chair and began to play 'Angels We Have Heard On High,' singing softly to the baby. Almost immediately the little girl calmed down. "When does your shift end, Jaq?"
"Ended three hours ago. I've got the entire weekend off." The student continued to play for her little audience of one.
"What's her name?"
"Officially, Baby Doe. The usual anonymous." Jacquie grinned broadly for a second. "But I know what having no name does to preemies here. I've been calling her Gloria."
"Has she been put on the adoption list yet?"
"Not yet. They aren't giving her good odds. Anyone who wants her, though, can have her."
There was a very heavy silence between the two of them for a moment. Then Jacquie turned back to Gloria and started to play again.
"I want her. I'm going to check on it." Christine left to go seek out the hospital's legal officer. Jacquie bent over the bassinet and gave Gloria a high-five with her thumb.
"Well done, Glory. You've got your mum."
In five years, Gloria had grown into a beautiful child. Christine had never been prouder of anything. The little girl had beautiful deep brown eyes and dark raven hair, a stark contrast to Christine's own graying blond and sharp blue eyes. Everyone at the private kindergarten Gloria attended knew not to pick on the fact that she was adopted, as 'Aunt Jacquie' had taught her long ago what to say to that:
"My mommy chose me. Your mom got stuck with you."
Gloria was wonderfully gifted, reading and writing at the age of three. This year for Christmas, Jacquie had sent books, as usual, and that had abruptly changed Christine's weekends. Gloria had taken up the adult's copy of the 'Collected Works of John James Audubon' (no children's book was good enough for Glory in Jacquie's eyes,) with profound fervor, memorizing every bird and animal's Latin and English names.
They were at the zoo when the attack came.
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Chloe's arm was broken, Julie could tell that much. Passed out, the little French girl was now in Donaghan's arms, despite the t-shirt-bandaged wound on his head that had blood running into his eyes. They had been in the Aquatics building by the penguins when the glass wall exploded toward them and ceiling beams began to rain down. Chloe owed her life to Donaghan, who had shouldered the steel I-beam off her arm and carried her away to safety. Half of Mitchie's face was so sliced and cut with glass that she was near unrecognizable, and Julie suspected she might lose her left eye. Draco and Ron had run out to see what was going on at the first alarm, leaving them to the glass and beams alone, not knowing the attack would occur indoors.
Jen was gently cradling Theodoric. Her leg was bent at a funny angle and so was one of his. He had tried to shove her out of the way of a falling beam, only to have her pull him out of the reach of another. A third had caught them both a moment later, and Julie and Mitchie rolled it off the unconscious boy and hysterical girl. It had been half an hour since all this happened. Mitchie and Julie were the only ones still standing, although Julie's collarbone felt strange, possibly broken, and every inch of Mitchie's left side from face to arm was covered in blood and shards.
Donaghan held Chloe and weakly implored them to stay inside. Julie watched as Mitchie bent, told him something, and kissed him gently. Then she put her wand to his temple and knocked him unconscious with a spell. Slowly, maniacally, she stood and began to walk toward the gaping hole where the glass doors had been.
"It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing…do-what, do-what, do-what DO-WHAT!"
"Mitchie!" Julie raced to her friend's side and forced her to the ground. Mitchie gave her a fearsome grin, as insane as Lord Voldemort's, and continued to sing madly as they army-crawled out of the wreckage. Julie's collarbone felt like it was on fire.
"Why's it never light on my lawn? Why does it rain and never say good day to the new-born?"
"Mitchie, quiet!" Julie saw de Diablo climb the bent flagpole.
"Ever since I was a young boy, I played the silver ball. From Soho down to Brighton, I must have played 'em all…y'know the day destroys the night, night divides the day! Try to run, try to hide, break on through to the other side!"
Julie caught Mitchie by the shoulders and stopped her from rushing forth. Her friend looked at her wildly, questioningly. Just then they heard it, a scraping, satanic laugh that echoed through the wreckage of the Audubon Zoo. It was de Diablo.
His only opposition picked up their wands and rose to stand boldly amid the death.
Santa Anna almost fell off the bent flagpole. Two girls had just appeared out of nowhere. He had not been expecting that. One seemed almost two faced, so covered with blood was half of her. She stepped forward boldly, singing 'Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend' at the top of her lungs as menacingly as she could. Confusedly, de Diablo aimed a Killing Curse at her.
"Avada Kedavra!"
She spun deftly out of the way, pointing at him with a sadistic grin.
"Cause that's when those louses go back to their spouses-!"
Diablo aimed again and missed. The other girl tried to disarm him and he turned on her.
"Meet your death, little girl!" he screamed in his harshly-accented voice. "Avada Kedavra!"
Julie stood her ground, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the green light. Then something strange happened. The green light continued to surge from Diablo's wand, but it also seemed to gather in her hand as her scar glowed a brilliant emerald. Nothing had ever hurt so much in her life. Diablo looked at her in absolute astonishment.
"Meet yours," she managed to whisper, before throwing the ball of pure death with all her might.
Simultaneously, two bodies fell. One, dead, made a sickening squash into the ornamental shrubberies that surrounded the flagpole's base. The other, unconscious, landed in the bloody arms of Michelle Tyler.
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"Mama!" the little child sobbed. Draco administered one final healing charm and breathed a sigh of relief. "Mama!"
"She'll be alright, little one," the Auror promised. "She's just going to be asleep for awhile."
"Mama?" the little girl asked, feeling Christine's heart. "Oh, Mama!" She hugged the doctor's unconscious form, and then smiled tearfully at Draco. "Thank you, sir."
"N-no problem."
"What's your name?"
"Er –I can't tell you that. I –er, work for the government."
"Oh, so you're not an EMT. I wondered why you didn't have a uniform or a stethoscope."
"No, I'm not an- I'm just trying to help."
"My name is Gloria Montgomery. I'll tell you what," the little girl drew close to Draco conspiratorially. "I'll tell Mama it was our guardian angel. She won't believe me, but then, I'm only five."
"Uh, yes, I think that will do nicely."
"Thank you again, mister." And with that, Gloria covered her mother up with her coat, reciting the treatment for shock aloud to herself. Draco went off to see how Ron was doing. Gifted children never failed to startle the crumbs out of him.
Around the corner a few yards away, Ron had just failed to save a lone Muggle zookeeper. He was trying his best not to cry when Draco put an arm around him in a brotherly way.
"Hey, Uncle Ron, Draco," Mitchie greeted, staggering slightly under Julie's dead weight. "Dyablo's dead and the guys need a bit of patching up."
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"What's happened, Albus?" Minerva cried, kneeling near the fireplace where the Minister of Magic's head was floating. All she had heard on the Wizarding Wireless Network was that there had been a massacre in America involving Santa Anna de Diablo.
"De Diablo's been killed. He attacked a Muggle zoo when the children were there."
"My God…are they all okay?"
"Draco and Ron Weasley are alright. Chloe Davies has a broken arm and a concussion. Donaghan McPhersen has a slight head injury. Jennifer Blodgett and Theodoric Malfoy both have broken legs and Jen's in full post-traumatic shock. Aldous Howard was back at the hotel for the entire episode. He's fine."
"Julie and Michelle?" Severus asked tensely, holding a crying Hermione.
"Julia actually defeated de Diablo. She's unconscious and apart from what Michelle was able to tell us, we have no idea what happened to her or how she did it. Michelle has traumatic dementia and a great number of shrapnel wounds. From the two Muggle witnesses, it seems to have been the two of them who finally managed it. You can be very proud of your daughters, Severus."
"I'd rather see them alive than heroically dead, Albus!"
"Oh, I'd anticipated that. Harry Potter will fly you across the Atlantic and the American Aurory will Floo you to New Orleans from Philadelphia."
"Thank you, Albus," Hermione whispered.
"Don't worry. I know they will be alright in the end."
And with that, the Minister disappeared.
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A/N: Uh, Gwenivire…I always thought I smelled of kittens and spilled soda. Alex suggested not uploading this for a week. The kittens think that anticipation is good for readers. They also love reviews. I print them out, cut them apart, and let the little cats play with them. I also give some to my hamsters and gerbils. Thumper the Bunny actually eats them. I let him have flames to help his digestion.
So how'd I do with this chapter?
-Jan McNeville