A/N: urghhh work tomorrow. Kill me dead. Sending good vibes to all who also have to start a new fay of work, unless you already have been. We can do this. Sigh. No, I cant.
Go read.
Chapter 39 - Everyone Has a Job
Bella screams. Sam and Jameson cringe. They're breathing hard, sweating, and they're spent. Definitely panicked. Adrenaline shoots through them as Bella hangs on to their shoulders as they carry her when walking became impossible. She was walking until she couldn't.
The ground back there is now soaked; her clothes the same. Her belly is contracting too often.
It's too fast, Jameson thinks. But an unborn chooses its own time. Words like a ticker scan his mind—the book he read once told the unpredictable process.
Bella screams, and it rings sharp through Jameson and Sam's ears.
"Stop!" Sam shouts. He distributes her weight over to Jameson. He huffs and puffs. "This is not going to work. We'll drop her."
"It has to," James says back. He bends his knees and scoops her up. Bella grunts loudly. Jameson only makes it down a yard or two. "Fuck!" He spits. He kneels where he stops.
"Take me back. Take me back," Bella says heaving, her index pointing over his shoulder toward the tent, far away and nowhere visible from here.
"No! This is crazy," he shouts.
She grunts and heaves over his shoulder, relief coming for just a moment. She straightens and manages to stand on shaking legs.
"She's right. We won't make it," says Sam.
"You will not be having a baby in a fucking tent, let alone his! We're damned civilized!" This just got worse. He gets Bella, now he gets this? Fuck, if he had him here now, he'd kill the man.
Bella cups his cheeks, where he kneels in front of her. "You're practically a doctor, James."
"Absolutely not. Over my dead body!" he spits back.
"You'll do just fine." Tears stream down her cheeks.
"You made me do this. You dragged me here every fucking day. I can't believe you'd do this to me!" He grips his head. "I'm such an idiot."
"I know, and I'm sorry. And you're not an idiot! I am! You are good, too good. I'll owe you my life. But right now, you gotta move, James."
He doesn't. He tries to scoop her up again, but fails.
"I'm going into contractions any minute now. I swear to god, if you don't move, I will kick you in the nuts so hard you'll be feeling an iota of my pain," she says calmly, but sternly.
Jameson looks at her. He blinks away the fog of anger over his eye long enough to see what he's missed for quite some time.
This is the strength Bella has lacked for the longest. He sees her now, the Bella he once knew. Fear grabs at his groin because a threat like that, coming from her, is a promise. But, man, does he see so clearly why he fell for her. The love sparked like firewood.
Begrudgingly he stands and guides her back, having to practically drag her there with the help of Sam.
Her eyes stick to that tent ceiling where she lies, and how fitting? She closes her eyes tightly through the pain, and tries not to think of the irony; this place, the source of this consequence. Where she was last, was here with him. The air is saturated with his scent, the sheets, the pillows, everything.
Yet, Edward isn't here. Her tears drop endlessly onto the pillow through her screams.
Jameson is yelling things. She's breathing, keeping focused, but failing. He is muffled noises through her ears. What he's really saying is, "Call an ambulance." But then Jameson realizes, how would they know how to get here?
Sam stares wide-eyed at the problem.
"I've got it," he says loudly. "Stay here," he orders.
He shakingly pulls out his phone. He tries to make the call, but it drops.
"It isn't working. Why isn't it working? Young man, make this dreaded thing work." He says pushing it toward Jameson's chest. Jameson sighs with the stress. He steps out of the tent. He looks at the phone.
"No service. Walk around. When you see those bars fill in, make the call."
The older man walks around, his heart hammering. Well, he hasn't been this hurried in quite a while. He raises his arms high and looks up at the phone, grumbling to the heavens.
Fucking technology, but a blessing at that. He gets articles and emails every day. His silly little digital game. Convenience. Right now, he needs a miracle. He passes the boulders. There: One. Two. Three. Four bars fill up like magic. He takes a breath.
Sue picks up in record time.
"Come," he says. "It's time. This will be your best, baby girl," he says about the circumstance. "Just you wait." He snaps the phone shut after further instructions and finds that cooler he dropped somewhere along the way. They're gonna need water. They're gonna need a lot of things. A baby is rushing to come into this world.
Everyone has a job to help, yet no one anticipated this morning something like this would occur in a quiet campsite in rural North Pond, Maine.
…