25

R emy

The earlier storms of the day had brought in a rather chilly night, but the sky was clear and the stars were bright. Although they were not quite as bright as I was used to out at the lakehouse. Emberwood had enough people and electricity to through off a fair amount of light pollution, and that was definitely not something I missed about civilization.

I sat on the bench outside of Jovie's clinic, with my legs folded underneath me and Boden's flannel shirt tightly around me to ward off the cold. The roads directly passing by were empty and dark, outside of a few lamp posts, but the air was filled with the scent of a bonfire and the distant sounds of laughter and music.

The screen door to the clinic swung shut, and Jovie came outside carrying two mugs and a crocheted blanket underneath her arm.

"I brought you some tea with honey." She held the mug out to me, and when I took it she handed me the blanket. "And this, in case you're cold."

"Thanks," I said. "You didn't need to do that."

"I know." She sat down beside me, holding her mug in two hands.

"How are they doing inside?" I asked.

"All are asleep, all are good."

"Good." I sipped my tea while people cheered in the distance .

"They're having a feast to celebrate a prosperous hunting season," Jovie explained. "Mayor Vaughn is always trying to find reasons to celebrate."

"There are worse things to do with your life than find excuses to be happy," I supposed.

"You don't have to stay out here, you know," Jovie said. "I have extra beds and cots inside."

"I'm better out here," I replied simply, because I didn't know how to explain the overwhelming nausea and terror I felt stepping beyond the threshold. The bright lights, the scent of cleaners and illness, everything about it was too much.

"Boden mentioned that you couldn't really stand to be around medical stuff," Jovie said. "I'm not about to pry about what you've been through, because lord knows we've all been through hell. So all I am saying is that you can stay out here for as long as Stella is under my care, if that's what's easier for you."

"Thank you," I said quietly. "What do you think are Stella's chances of surviving all this?"

"Her blood pressure is down since I've given her Hawthorne berries and IV fluids," Jovie explained. "So her chances against the preeclampsia are slightly improving. But we both know that is not the worst of her issues." She exhaled deeply. "I have never seen anyone survive a zombie bite."

"But she doesn't have any symptoms of infection yet," I persisted with uncharacteristic optimism because I needed it to be true.

"That is correct," Jovie allowed. "But it hasn't even been twelve hours yet, and it takes at least twenty-four hours for signs to start appearing. Most people don't go full zombie until around seventy-two hours after exposure."

"What about the baby?" I asked. "If Stella is sick… how long before the baby is too?"

"The good news is that the fetus likely isn't infected at all," she said, but not in a way that sounded like it was actually good news. "The lyssavirus attacks the central nervous system, so there's very little risk of it crossing into the placenta."

"So what does happen to a fetus if the mother turns into a zombie?" I asked, even though I wasn't sure I actually wanted to know.

"I saw a pregnant zombie once." Jovie stared off into the night, her voice sounding faraway. "It was the first year after the virus, and I was still hiding out in Winnipeg. She was alone, stumbling along the road. Her pale pink maternity dress was rotting right off her, just like her flesh. Her stomach had the strangest appearance, almost like a deflated basketball. Her side had been ripped open, exposing her ribs and her rotten womb. And falling out, like tiny brittle little bird bones, was the skeletal remains of her fetus."

"Holy fuck," I whispered under my breath.

"When a healthy pregnant woman dies, the fetus has a matter of minutes to maybe an hour to survive without medical intervention, usually a C-section," Jovie explained. "For our intents and purposes, a person is dead the moment they become a zombie."

"What does all that mean for our situation?" I asked.

"As far as we can tell, Stella is about thirty-three weeks along, which is considered late preterm," Jovie said. "It is survivable, even in our current world, but there are always risks with preterm births. To improve the baby's chances, we should leave them where they are for as long as we are able, so they can continue to grow. But to be completely safe, we do need to take the baby before she turns into a zombie. I can't even perform a C-section on a properly tied down zombie."

"Is that the plan then?" I asked, after processing for a few moments. "We watch and wait and prepare, and if things go wrong, you'll cut out the baby? "

"Yes, I think that is the best course of action," Jovie replied. "That, and we all should rest while we can. With that in mind, I am going to head in for the night. My bedroom is on the second floor, and my assistant Eden is watching over Stella. Feel free to come get either one of us if you need anything."

"Thanks," I said again, and she got up and started toward the clinic. "Can I ask you something before you go in?"

She paused and looked back at me. "Sure."

"How bad is Stella's preeclampsia, really?" I asked. "Like, if we hadn't left our home and walked all the way here, how do you think she would be doing right now?"

"It's hard to say, because I know she's under stress from all the recent activities. But if you're asking if she would've been better off if you never left your home?" Jovie gave me a sympathetic look and shrugged. "Maybe, but women and babies have died during childbirth, even in good health and with proper medicine. You didn't make the wrong choice bringing her here just because things haven't gone the way that you had hoped." She smiled tiredly at me. "Good night, Remy."

"Good night, Jovie."