I am not calm. I scan around the barn as if medical supplies might appear before my eyes and magically tell me what to do with themselves, but I’ve got nothing, nothing at all. Thea still needs me. Empty-handed, I bolt back downstairs. I grab an old mop and bucket to prop the door open so the medics can find us, and then my reception cuts out as soon as I’m in the tunnel again.
“Rosie!” Thea calls, her voice husky and weak.
“It’s okay. Help’s coming,” I say.
Thea’s hunched and moaning. With feeble fingers, she pushes the baby toward me, and I take her, feeling helpless all over again. All I can do is nestle the baby against my shirt and tell Thea it will be all right, but I have zero guarantees. I’m listening for voices, hoping the medics will find us soon, when Thea reaches out a shaky hand and grips my arm. Her gaze is fierce, but at the same time, her focus is wrong, like she isn’t seeing me.
“Thank Thea for me,” Thea says. “Tell her to look after my baby.”
A cool, light shiver passes over me. “You’re Thea,” I say gently.
“Tell my parents and Grampa I love them,” she adds. Her voice lifts higher and softer. Her Texas accent is clearer. “They did right by me.”
My throat tightens. Who is this girl talking to me?
Her hand slips loose from my arm. Her eyes close. Her head tips limply back.
Pure panic rises up in me. “Thea!” I scream. “Rosie! Althea!” I grab her shoulder. I’m still holding her baby and don’t know what to do for her. I can’t tell who she is anymore. She’s not responding.
I’m still screaming when the medics charge in. They bring light and supplies and a stretcher. Four medics surround Thea at once, and I watch in horrified awe as they work over her. Another medic takes the baby from me with gloved hands. I’m backed against the wall, clutching my hands into my shirt where the baby just was. I’m trying to see Thea between the medics, but I can’t get a straight view. When Thea moans, I almost burst into tears at that sign of life.
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask. “Tell me!”
One of the medics looks over his shoulder at me. “Are you the one who called?”
I nod.
“Don’t go anywhere. The police are going to have some questions for you.”
“Just tell me she’s going to be okay,” I say.
“She’s lost some blood, but she looks like she’ll make it,” he says. “Her heart’s strong. She’s young.”
He doesn’t know anything. He thinks Thea’s a normal girl. He has no idea that she was in a coma, and I don’t know where to begin explaining.
“Do you know when she was due?” he asks.
“She still had four weeks to go.”
He nods and turns back to Thea.
We need to call her parents, I think. And Tom. Someone should call him, too. Thea still looks awful to me despite the medic’s reassurance. They’re hooking up blood.
Another team of medics jostles in, and it finally hits me the police could be next. I don’t want to talk to them. I have no way to explain why Thea and I are in the tunnel, and I don’t want them calling my guardian, either.
May he rot.
I pick up my jacket and Thea’s from the ground. They’re both bloodstained and filthy. My hands aren’t much better. I take a step back, torn. I hate to leave without saying goodbye to Thea, but this might be my only chance to get away. Then again, someone should tell the medics about Thea’s past. What if the birth sends her into another coma? Could that even happen?
I get another glimpse of Thea’s insensible face, and then I grab one of the medics nearby. I leave blood prints on her white sleeve.
“You shouldn’t be down here,” she says, and then frowns. “Are you injured?”
“I’m her friend. I was helping her,” I say. I thrust Thea’s jacket into her hands. “She used to be in a coma a few weeks back. She’s really fragile. She was talking really strangely before she passed out.”
“Wait here,” she says, and plunges into the group surrounding Thea.
I can’t wait. I can’t be caught down here. Already one of the other medics is looking at me like he recognizes me. I take a last, agonized look at Thea. Then I slip out of the tunnel and go up the stairs to the main floor. As soon as I get a phone signal, I call Linus.
“Thea’s had her baby,” I say. I push out the barn door into the fresh, cool air and veer away from the ambulances. “Call Tom and let him know. The medics are with her at the dairy barn. Tell Tom to call her parents and get them here as fast as he can.”
“Is she all right?” Linus asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m afraid.”
“Where are you?” he asks.
I’m already heading back to my car, the one Burnham loaned me. I feel like I’ve been in the tunnel for years, like this air on my face belongs to a new planet. The sky is the gray of pre-dawn. I need to run. I need to think.
“Rosie!” Linus yells.
I can’t talk to anybody anymore. It’s too much, all of it. I ought to be thrilled that I helped a baby be born, but I’m not happy. I’ve failed, somehow, and the truth is agonizing. Thea came looking to save me, and now she might be dying. Between Berg and Thea, I’ve lost something. Something huge.
I shove my phone in my pocket and run.
36
ROSIE
SUNRISE
BY THE TIME I REACH the dim street where I left my car, I’m breathless from running and my throat’s aching from held-back tears. The water tower looms above in black silhouette while the first light of dawn touches the sky to the east. A shadow beside the car materializes into Linus, and I slow. If he says the wrong thing, if he tries to hug me, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to do that. I dig for my car keys.
I struggle to make my voice calm. “How’d you find my car?” I ask. Like that matters.
“Georgia plates,” he says.
Just as I expected, he goes to hug me. I lean back, gripping my dirty jacket to my chest, and he stops.
“What were you and Thea doing at the dairy barn?” he asks. “I went to Forge to look for you, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. I tried to reach Burnham to see if he knew anything, but he wouldn’t answer. Then Tom told me Thea was missing, too.” He tilts his face. “You look awful. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know if Thea’s going to make it,” I say tightly. “One of the medics said she would, but they didn’t know yet about her history with the coma.”
He swears softly. “Are you hurt?” he asks. “I can take you to the hospital. Let me drive.”
I glance down at my dirty hands and yellow shirt. “I can’t go there. I can’t talk to the police. I did something horrible.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
It is. It’s that bad, or at least the police would think so. I was this close to killing Berg. I might actually have done it with the two doses I gave him. Nightmare. I find my key finally and try it in the car door, but I keep locking instead of unlocking it. I’m not like Berg. I’m not.
“Okay,” Linus says decisively, and sets his hand over mine. “We need to go somewhere and talk. Don’t say anything yet, though. I know this is Burnham’s car, but someone could have bugged it since yesterday.”
I almost laugh at his charade. You’re warning me about what’s bugged? I think.