Chapter Thirteen
Shellshock
Paul retched, bringing up the last chunks of partially digested food. He straightened his back and stood on quivering legs. "You found what…?"
"Eggs! Quick, quick, come with me!"
"Oh God, Annabelle, do I have to…?"
He followed her dutifully all the same through the clearing. By the time his shaking legs allowed him to catch up with her, Annabelle was knelt down by the side of the grass, shuffling through something. Staggering across to her, he set his gaze downward and saw three sandy-coloured eggs partially obscured by the grass and remains of a nest. Annabelle was trying in vain to scoop up all three in her arms, but they were huge, much bigger than Paul had expected Pokemon eggs to be, and she couldn't keep a steady grip without risk of damaging them.
"Here, here, here," Paul interjected his clumsy arms across her and awkwardly grabbed one of them.
"Thank you," Annabelle said breathily, holding the other two eggs close to her chest. "Come on. Move, quickly, before that Ekans comes back!"
"Do I really have to run…?" Paul grumbled, still feeling his stomach twist. The scent of blood, harsh and metallic, was still strong.
"Just move! And be careful!"
They fled the clearing, flanked on all sides by the Fletchling, Ledyba and Shroomish. Annabelle was panicked, her head darting this way and that, searching for a safe place away from the tall grass. Eventually, she found a spot that was wide and open, with a perfect 360 degree vantage. Satisfied, she dropped to her knees, whistled for Abigail and began haphazardly shoving sticks and grass into a pile.
"What are you doing?" Paul panted.
"Building a fire!" Annabelle cried. "These eggs are ice cold. We need to get them warm, and quick. Body heat won't cut it!"
Paul pressed his hand firmly against the hard shell. It was cold – his fingers chilled by a few minutes of contact.
On Annabelle's instructions, Abigail spat a small flame into the pile of dry grass and twigs and fire crackled into life, hungrily spreading and encroaching the branches. Annabelle scooped up the eggs again and shuffled closer to the fire, so close that her loose hair and bare skin were in danger of being set alight as well. When Paul hesitated, she quickly motioned for him to do the same.
"Calm down, Annabelle." He urged her, yet obediently moved his egg closer to the slight warmth.
"I can't calm down." She replied instantly, her eyes wide and wild. She hugged the eggs even closer to her. "Oh God, they're still frozen…" she murmured. After a moment, she zipped open her hooded jumper, hauled up her top and pressed the eggs against her bare skin. She winced and swore under her breath, pulling her shirt down over them again.
She caught Paul's eye and offered him an embarrassed half smile. "Body heat. It's the best thing until the fire gets going."
Paul cradled the heavy egg and pulled part of his jacket further around it. He could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. He wanted to talk, to give voice and words to the horrors he had just seen. But the words were stuck in his throat and he worried he would choke on them if he tried to force them out.
Minutes passed. The fire spat and crackled and belched out a plume of thick, grey smoke. Then Annabelle broke her silence by letting out a cry of relief, and Paul noticed for the first time that her eyes looked suspiciously like they were watering.
"I... I can feel something moving…!" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Paul, there's something moving in these eggs. Oh thank God… They're alive. They're actually alive! Is… is there something moving in yours?"
Paul put his hand to the egg. "I... can't tell." He said truthfully.
"Pass it here." Annabelle's long fingers sought the egg against Paul's chest. She frowned for a moment, her fingers shifting around like she was a medic searching for a pulse. After a minute, however, her face relaxed. "There. It's there. It's very faint, but it's there. You've got to keep it warm, Paul. It's the only thing that'll keep it alive."
"I will, I will, don't worry." Paul nodded. "Do you know what type of eggs they are?"
"Probably the eggs of whatever poor thing the Ekans killed." Annabelle said sadly and Paul felt another a rise of bile inch its way up its throat. She craned her neck over to the egg Paul was holding. "I honestly can't tell what species it is."
"All Pokemon eggs are this brown colour, then? I thought they were all like pale with those green spots you get in-game."
"What? No, not at all." Annabelle managed a chuckle. "Eggs aren't all the same. They'd get mixed up otherwise. Most species have a distinct egg pattern."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Like Ledyba. It's got a reddy-orange shell with black spots."
"Makes sense."
"Ironically, these eggs are so… for lack of a better word… bland, it's really tough to identify them. There are a lot of brown eggs."
"I suppose we'll have to wait until they hatch then."
Annabelle took in a deep breath and expelled it. "Yeah… I hope so."
"Something wrong?"
"I'm just worried. I've no idea how long they've been left by themselves. I know they don't look damaged in any way, but I'm still worried the Ekans tried to crack them open. And then there's the obvious question…"
"Oh?"
"What if there were more eggs? Ones the Ekans already got to?"
"Y-yeah…" he muttered. He had a horrible vision of the purple demon, slithering through the grassy fronds undetected, to swallow up and gobble down the unsuspecting eggs. Lives over before they even began.
He thought of the unidentified Pokemon. The mother of the eggs. Did she fight to protect her babies? Was she killed before she even knew there was a threat? Did she have to watch while her eggs were swallowed down? Paul shivered and clutched the egg closer to his body. All of a sudden, he felt very alone.
Annabelle offered Paul a sympathetic look. "You okay?"
"Uh… not really…"
"I understand." She said softly. "First time you've seen a dead Pokemon, I assume?"
"Not the first. I've seen Miltank cut for slaughter and the occasional dead Rattata the neighbour Meowth would kill. But nothing so… visceral."
"Visceral, huh? That's… one word for it." She said with a sad smile. "I've seen it. A lot. You see a lot of death in this business. So much more than anyone would like you to believe. And of course Pokemon kill other Pokemon for food. Circle of life and all that. I just wish we didn't have to see it."
"Me too. I really wish I didn't have to see that."
"I'm sorry, Paul. I'd come and give you a hug, but… yeah. Eggs." She giggled, gesturing to the eggs under her shirt. "On the other hand, it looks like I've got massive boobs under here."
Paul snorted. "You're crazy."
"I know." Annabelle softened. "You have to be. You have to sort of see the funny side, even if it's really hard to find one. You really would go crazy if you didn't. Otherwise you would think about every 'what if' in existence. What if I got there sooner? What if there was something I could have done? What if I could have saved the mother, the other eggs?" she let out a fierce sniff and rubbed her eyes. "You'd… you'd seriously drive yourself crazy thinking about it."
"Well… just try not to, yeah? Maybe we should just focus on the fact we've got these three."
"You're right, you're right." Annabelle nodded her head firmly. "As long as we keep them warm, we should be alright. They should be alright." She paused before adding. "You'll need to help me, though. I can't take care of all three by myself. A-and it does mean delaying our journey by at least a day until I can get these eggs in proper shape."
"It's fine. Don't worry about it."
"Are you sure?"
Perhaps it was lingering effects of the trauma, but Paul found himself nodding. "Of course. Take all the time you need."
"Thank you…" Annabelle let out a breath of relief and wrapped her arms further around the eggs under her shirt. "You know, it's been a while since I had eggs to take care of. It's almost a relief after everything that's gone on."
Abigail the Fletchling hopped onto Annabelle's lap and nestled up against her chest, and Annabelle let out a contented sigh. Paul felt a slight shift under the hardened shell of the egg and a memory returned to him from long ago. His mother, heavily pregnant with his sister, and his young, naïve self, feeling the flutter of life underneath her heaving belly.
"So, will it ever be safe to travel with them?"
"Of course. So long as we're careful. Lots of trainers, and breeders, carry eggs around. They often don't have a choice. I just want to delay any moving about until I'm one-hundred-percent certain there hasn't been any lasting damage to the eggs. I don't even know how close these are to hatching. I'll need to look at them properly once they're fully warmed up."
"So, the whole "takes a certain number of steps to hatch an egg" thing. That's bullshit as well, huh?"
Annabelle chuckled. "You're learning quickly."
Paul felt a slight smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Then Annabelle briskly became official again. Conversation was evidently over, and she began a relentless tirade of ordering Paul to make the egg warmer, closer to the fire, closer to his skin.
As the day and night progressed, Annabelle didn't let the eggs out of her sight, rebuilding the fire every time it looked in danger of dying down even a little, to the point he and Annabelle were sweating from the heat.
When she was eventually satisfied they were warm enough, she lay them down in a straight line and stood over them with a notepad and pen she had unearthed from her bag. Paul dared to look over her shoulder and saw her writing down a lot of numbers and figures in her long, italic scrawl.
"Egg 1: approx. 0.4m long. Weight: approx. 5kg.
Movement: Sporadic.
Notable features: Brown shell unharmed. Responded well to warmth.
Egg 2: Approx 0.4m long. Weight: approx. 6kg.
Movement: Constant.
Notable features: Hairline fracture to the frontal area. Found to be quite sandy. Again, responded well to warmth.
Egg 3: Approx 0.4m long. Weight: approx. 4kg.
Movement: Infrequent.
Notable features: Much smaller and quieter than the other eggs. Possible cause for concern – although potential runt of the litter. Not responding as well to warmth."
He couldn't read any further as Annabelle batted him away and told him if he wanted to do something useful, to put more wood on the fire.
As he hauled the dry branches onto the pit to be swallowed up by the jaws of the fire, he glanced across at the smallest of the three eggs. Annabelle had written "cause for concern" in her notes. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He wanted to ask Annabelle if the egg would be okay. It had to be, didn't it? It was safe now. It was warm. There wasn't anything wrong with it other than it was a bit small. Whatever was inside it wasn't going to die, right? It would seem unforgivably unfair for the eggs to survive such a vicious attack for them to die now.
He didn't dare ask Annabelle. At first, he told himself it was because he didn't want to upset her further. But she was carrying out her work with a professionalism that, at least for the moment, seemed immune to the potential darkness lingering around the corner. Perhaps, he considered, he wasn't reluctant to ask for her benefit at all.
Eventually, Annabelle closed her notebook with a snap and brought an end to the uncomfortable silence. It was dark now and they ate a meal in silence. Too tired to set up the tents and with it an already uncomfortable muggy night, they rolled sheets and pillows straight out onto the grass.
Annabelle pulled the eggs right under the covers with her, only to be joined by Abigail a moment later. She did not complain even once, even though Paul knew she would have been sweltering with the heat. He even swore he heard her talking in a hushed voice to the eggs under the sheets.
"You really like taking care of eggs, huh?" Paul asked her as they lay under the cover of starlight.
"Course I do. I mean, aside from it being my job, each little egg is a whole new life inside it. There's so much potential. Just like with kids, I guess."
"You ever wanted kids?"
Annabelle let out a nervous giggle. "Paul, what kind of question is that?"
"A sincere one?"
"Fair enough, fair enough. Uh… I don't know. I mean, I love kids. You have to, I guess, to do the sort of jobs I've done. But I think I'd have to be in the right sort of relationship for one. And I haven't had all that much experience with good relationships."
She noticed him staring expectantly. "Well, there was my first when I was about sixteen. I remember I was a bit of a late bloomer. All my friends had had boyfriends long before that. But it never really went anywhere. I don't think I even dated him for a couple of months. Wanted different things, really. I wanted the whole first love, romance, candlelight and roses stuff."
"And him?"
"He wanted to break up!" Annabelle snorted at her own joke. "And after that, there was Charlie."
"Charlie, huh?"
"Yep. God, she was fun."
"Wait, what? She?" Paul stammered, but it was lost as Annabelle carried on blithely, and finished her story with a short sigh.
"And ever since then I've not really been looking. I don't really need to. Long as I've got my Pokemon and my little business and a few friends here and there, I'm a happy enough girl."
Paul didn't know what to say so simply nodded his head.
Noticing the dip in conversation, Annabelle pulled her covers further around herself, Abigail and the three eggs and shuffled around until she got more comfortable. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."
Deciding not to argue with her and still reeling from the events of the day, Paul shut his eyes against it all and allowed sleep to take him away.
Author's Note
Hi guys! Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out; I've been crazy with work and other responsibilities.
This chapter is a bit shorter than I wanted and I apologise for that; there's only so much you can expand on things and I needed to keep the next scene separate as a lot goes down.
So much thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed - especially those who reviewed after I had been quiet for a while. It gave me a lot of motivation to keep going.
I'll see you guys on the next one. Thanks for reading!