Daffer rushed over. Together, they lifted the furniture and moved it out of the way.
“You sure?” he asked nervously. “It’s much too early.”
“Tell that to the child. They come when they decide, and that’s life.”
“Or death,” he said, glancing at the door.
Brushing the damp hair from Tabitha’s ashen face, Mildred placed a palm on her bulging belly and counted. The contractions were only seconds apart. Tabitha gave a muffled cry of pain, as Mildred knelt before the woman and eased her legs apart. Then as gently as possible, the physician tested the birth canal with fingertips.
“Why, you’re already at ten centimeters,” Mildred complimented her soothingly. “This will be such an easy birth.”
The panting woman writhed in agony as another contraction shook her whole body, and this time she cried out, “It hurts!”
“Always does,” Daffer said, trying to be helpful.
“Not this bad. Get my med kit,” Mildred snapped, pointing. “Over there by the chopping block. Start boiling water in that clean pot, and bring that bottle of moonshine!”
“Shine? Daffer stared in confusion at the physician but did as requested.
Tabitha shuddered in terrible pain, as Mildred probed inside her in a different manner. Her fingers touched something that felt like a foot.
Placing the bag nearby, Daffer asked a question with his expression.
Rolling up her sleeves, Mildred nodded. “It’s a breech. The baby’s coming out backward and strangling on its cord.”
“Don’t,” Tabitha gasped, through clenched teeth, “let die.”
Yanking open her bag, Mildred didn’t reply as she laid out the shoelaces, the clean cloth and her jar of sulfur, then placed the sterilized knife from Jak on a separate square of bed linen. That was for emergencies should everything else go wrong.
“Easy, now,” she said, placing a folded piece of leather into the woman’s mouth for her to bite down on, although losing teeth was the least of her worries at that moment. “There, better, isn’t it? Daffer, bring the moonshine. Now, Tabitha, try not to push on the next contraction, okay? I know how much you want to, but don’t push. Understand? Do not push.”
The woman nodded, clawing blindly at the floor, cracking fingernails and leaving bloody trails.
“Pour the moonshine on my hand,” Mildred ordered, holding out her arms. As Daffer complied, she washed thoroughly, paying special attention to under her own nails.
“Now what?” Daffer asked, hugging the empty bottle.
Mildred picked up the knife and inspected the edge in the flickering light. “Pray,” she whispered.
THE BLACKNESS FADED into a red haze, and sluggishly Krysty awoke into a world of pain. Her head was throbbing and her mouth tasted of blood. In a rush of fear, the woman suddenly knew that she was standing against something cold and metallic with her hands tied. Forcing her vision to clear, Krysty realized she was tied spread-eagle to the side of the LAV 25, her shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, her bra was missing and several grinning sec men were roughly squeezing her breasts. “Ryan’s bitch is nice and juicy.” A man guffawed, pinching her nipples hard.
Another man started to unzip her jumpsuit the rest of the way. “Let’s get to it!”
Revulsion and fury welled within the woman, but she was as weak as a kitten and totally helpless. Frantically, Krysty glanced around as the laughing sec men dragged her jumpsuit down to her ankles. The garage was large enough for several wags, but only one Bradley was parked inside. Another door off to the side led somewhere, and the garage door she had mistaken for a wall was closed tight. The troops were gathered close around their prisoner, grinning and rubbing their crotchesten, maybe fifteen blue shirts and one officer. He was the only man shaved and wearing a side arm.
Dimly, Krysty could hear the sounds of warfare outsidethe rattle of a machine gun, the boom of a shotgun, a scream of pain and the insistent clanging of the alarm bell.
Dirty hands fondled her intimately, and the woman braced herself for the gang rape. These animals wouldn’t dare kill her, because the baron would be furious. Her death would come later in Overton’s private chambers.