Survival

Chapter 19 The Value of Life

Cynthia’s inner battle continued the day after she found out about Vita’s pregnancy. A guilty conscious marred her sleep. She knew that as a former nurse, she had the qualifications and the experience to bring Vita’s baby into this awful world. But the responsibility of child's delivery, without a support team or proper facilities? She shuddered just at the thought.

Homes filled with the blood of the former population and the memories of a massacre would rock that child to grisly slumber. Her own family remained neglected. She had been attempting to find them when the discovery of Peyton and Vita set her back. Would she be choosing one over the other?

Sitting down in the kitchen, she cradled her head in her calloused hands. Her thoughts raced. Pele had managed to drag up an old oak table and chairs from the basement a few days ago. Her eyes traced the contours of past dents and chips. Soon she heard footsteps and the splash of water against a glass. Her dry throat began to itch.

“Hola Cyn-tia,” Pele greeted in a gentle tone.

“Hola Pele,” she said, lifting her head. He slid her a metal cup full of water. Apparently, the shortage was not as dire as Peyton had stated yesterday. Vita’s wide eyes and sailor’s mouth from yesterday flashed back at her like a flashy TV ad.

“What troubles you, pretty woman?” The wrinkles in his tanned skin scrunched together like yarn.

“The young girl, Vita.”

“Oh, little gringo,” he said with a hint of distaste.

“Yes, she’s having a child.”

“Esta nina?” Pele exclaimed with wide eyes. Cynthia’s indifferent face forced him back to the less familiar world of English. “She is child and now she have child?”

She used her hand to indicate a half-moon over her abdomen. Pele shook his head with a frown, but she could tell he understood. “Pregnant.”

“Dios mio. This is no world for a baby. No world for anyone.”

Cynthia nodded as she watched him stand up and shake his head again. He left out the side door, which rested on two hinges after some of Peyton’s handiwork. Pele probably went to check on the projects he kept hidden and secret in the shed or his sacred garden. Her heart weighed heavy as his words stuck with her. This world had no means to support the future generations. How could a safe and clean childbirth even occur? She would have to talk to Vita about her options.

When the mother to be finally awoke from the living room couch and made her way to the kitchen, she was equally drained of life. Her eyes were red and puffy from the tears she had shed this morning. She played with the ends of her sleeves as she approached Cynthia.

“I can’t do this,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m not a mother.”

“No, you’re not, yet.”

“I can’t have this baby. I wouldn’t even know what to do with one if things were still normal. Is there any way I can,” her eyes met Cynthia’s for a brief moment, “you know?”

Cynthia took in a quick breath that remained trapped in her lungs. As a Christian, she had been taught to value all life. It couldn’t end with the wishes of a regretful teen. Her mind raced back to the motherless boy who she had left with that scheming thief. To what hands would Vita’s child fall victim to in the future?

“What happens to a baby in this world? It’ll starve or get killed. I’m sure.” Vita thought aloud as she pulled at the fraying strings of the shirt. “Why bother? I wouldn’t even be alive if you guys didn’t help me. Add a baby to that and we’ll both end up dead.”