I'm snapped back to reality, the sun has begun to set over this dense forest. I need to find a place to rest for the night. Sadly, I'll have to take another dose of poison soon.
Pushing myself up from the tree, I kept moving. Eventually, I found a small clearing. It was still shaded by trees, though. I don't have matches or anything, so no fire tonight. Although with how hot I get from these drugs, I don't think I'll need it for warmth, and I'm not really scared of the dark night here. Hydra kept me locked in enough dark cells that in this pitch-black forest, I feel safe.
I leaned back against a tree, secured one of the IV bags to a branch, shoved the needle in, and let this vile stuff pump into me. Figured I should save the pills for when I don't have time.
As I lay there, staring at the dripping IV, feeling the chill as the liquid flowed into my body, the burn as it coursed through my veins, my heart rate accelerated, sweat pooling, and then… I remembered.
The island. It was called Madripoor.
A place for criminals. No laws. No officials. Just power and money. Those were the rulers there.
I might not have one, but I certainly have the other.
Though it's not exactly a place to raise a child. Hydra might come for me there, and no one would help.
But then again, where would they?
Hydra has pawns everywhere. Perhaps it is the safest place.
Because if they come,
I will kill them.
And no one will care there.
I suppose I have my heading now… just need to get there.
The next morning, I woke up with leaves and tree sap all over me. The dewy morning air felt refreshing, a gentle fog had settled in. The IV was empty. I pulled the needle from my arm and staggered up, this drug really knocked me out. I was still dizzy, unstable.
I kept heading south until I eventually hit a small city. Not a very big one, didn't even have a city sign. Before going in, I stopped at a stream to clean the sap and blood from myself as best I could.
I figured that would disturb people.
Once in town, I struggled through a truly difficult conversation with a older couple who eventually pointed me to a bus stop headed to the main city. The bus only came once a day, in the morning. Thankfully, I was up early enough.
The couple gave me some vegetables and petted my stomach. I think they were just being friendly, but… it was weird.
When I went to get on, of course, I had no money. The driver looked me up and down, a strange sight, I imagine. A woman in a zipped-up, knee-length coat, combat boots too big for her, and pregnant.
Not to mention my overgrown, dead-looking hair, with god-knows-what sticking out of it from sleeping on the forest floor.
Just glad I washed the blood off.
He grunted and gestured for me to get on.
It was a several-hour ride. Not many stops, only a few passengers, seven total, counting me. An older couple sat toward the front, the man asleep with his head leaned back, his wife hunched over her cane.
In the back were three younger men and a girl, looked like students. Backpacks on their laps. Maybe college… or high school.
I leaned on the glass window, resting my head. Everything makes me tired now.
A cramp twisted through my stomach, piercing through the constant pain of the drugs.
I gently caressed my belly.
"Please be okay, little one. Just a little longer," I whispered.
No kick.
God, please let this baby be okay.
They're all I have left.
Tears welled in my eyes at the thought that I could have hurt you by accident.
That my own body could kill something I love so much.
This body has killed so many without my consent…
Please don't let it take you too.
Another cramp spiked.
The pain wasn't unbearable, nothing I couldn't handle, but enough to worry me.
I spent the rest of the long ride anxious, wondering if you were okay.
The bus finally arrived in a city called Ekibastuz. I headed to a nearby grocery store first. I had eaten through the snacks from the backpack and needed to make sure I ate, my worry still gnawing at me.
Across the street, I spotted a clinic.
I hurried to finish in the store, making sure to move in ways the cameras couldn't see my face. Putting up my hood would look too suspicious. As it was, I already looked homeless.
I grabbed a few protein bars and stuffed them into my pocket. I was used to living off those on jobs, that was all I usually got.
On the way out, I passed the baby aisle.
A diaper box caught my eye, a baby on the front. Cute. Peach fuzz hair. A pink bow headband. Smiling. No teeth.
Next to it were snacks, lactation foods and vitamin-rich prenatal stuff.
I hadn't thought about that.
Does the baby need those things?
There's so much guesswork.
What does a baby super soldier need?
I've been pumping all this poison into my body just to keep them alive, like the doctors did. But what if I'm hurting them?
I grabbed a few bags of those snacks and shoved them into my bag.
As I tried to slip out of the store, a stabbing pain shot through my stomach.
I curled forward, catching myself on a shelf.
That one hurt.
Someone came over, talking to me, but I couldn't hear them, only my heartbeat, loud and panicked in my ears.
I clutched my stomach and ran, straight to the clinic I had seen.
Bursting through the door, I made my way to the counter and tried to explain, in Russian, that I was pregnant and in pain.
The woman looked confused, like I was speaking gibberish. I barely knew any Kazakh, and in this moment, I couldn't remember a thing.
A doctor approached, placing his hand on my shoulder, saying something I didn't understand.
My reflex kicked in, I grabbed his arm and twisted.
I stopped myself before I broke it, but I definitely hurt him.
He stepped back, clutching his arm.
"English. Do you know English?" he asked, panicked.
"Yes! I do! My baby, something's wrong. My stomach hurts." I replied, flooded with relief.
"Okay. We will help," he said, as a nurse handed him an ice pack.
"I'm sorry… your arm. I didn't…" I stuttered.
"It's okay. Please, just follow me." He led me toward the exam room.
My mind flashed back, Hydra. Blood-soaked tools. Cold steel tables. White coats and cruel laughter.
I started shaking.
Even with all this strength… I'm still so weak.
I couldn't enter the room. Frozen in place, eyes wide like a deer.
"Please sit on the table. I need to examine you," he said, gesturing inside.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach. Fear clawed at me.
I need to make sure you're okay, little one… but I'm scared.
I couldn't move.
I looked down at my belly, bigger than it had ever been in my life.
You need me.
"Ma'am?" the doctor asked, still standing at the doorway.
I glanced down the hall and saw a chair. I walked over and sat.
He leaned out of the room, confused.
"No, ma'am, the exam room is here."
"We'll do it here. I'm not going in there," I said flatly.
He looked understandably baffled, a disheveled, clearly traumatized, pregnant woman asking for help but refusing to go into the exam room.
Still, he came out, pulling along a small machine. I'd seen something like it before. The doctors used it to check on the baby. That one never hurt… they just never told me what it said.
"I need to see your stomach, please." He pulled a chair in front of me and sat down.
I unzipped my coat, revealing the sports bra and boxers I was still in. He looked at my face briefly, then focused on my stomach.
Slipping into gloves, he took a bottle from the machine.
"This might be cold," he said softly.
I nodded.
He squirted the clear gel on my stomach, sending a chill through my body. Then he took the corded device and pressed it against me, slowly moving it around.
The black monitor turned to greyscale blobs. He shifted it, eyes focused.
"There. That's your baby." He pointed.
I saw it. A blob, but shaped like a baby.
It moved.
He pushed a button. A sound filled the air.
"That's your baby's heartbeat," he said.
My eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
Tears streamed down my face.
They were okay.
They were there.
"Do you want to know?" he asked.
"Yeah, are they okay?" I snapped back to him, confused why did he ask like that.
"Yes, they're okay. I think you just had false contractions. That can happen this close to the end. But I meant… do you want to know the gender?"
"You can tell from this?" I asked, surprised. My dad always guessed by cravings or how the belly sat.
"I want to know!"
A smile cracked through, my first real one in a long time.
"He's a little boy."
A boy.
A son.
I'm so happy.
"I know you might be in a difficult spot, but… are you ready? Do you have a place for you two to go when he comes?" he asked, removing the device.
"Not yet. It's fine. I still have a few weeks, and I know where I'm going," I replied as he handed me a wipe.
He paused.
"Weeks? How far along do you think you are?"
"Um… seven months? Almost eight?"
He looked at the screen, eyebrows raised.
"No… you can't be. This scan shows he's almost ready. He's in the birthing position, he's measuring at nine-month size and it looks like your stomach has already dropped."
He pointed to the monitor.
"If I had to guess… this guy's coming out in a few days."
"HUH?!"