My contractions increased in duration and frequency, and all talking ceased. I could only focus on my body and the birth. When the cycle of pain drove me to tears over and over, Susie joined us in the room, called for support, and prepped me for full-on labor.
"Haven't I been in labor the whole time?" It sure as hell felt like it.
Her cool hand rested on my forehead for a moment. "Yes, but now we're at the end. The baby's ready. This is when we get serious."
If what I'd been feeling wasn't serious, I didn't want to know what serious was.
Another contraction burned in me and ripped away all thoughts. The pain gripped me and rode me hard. How did women ever do this more than once?
I linked minds with my baby. She didn't have words, but I sensed her nonetheless. "Ana, baby, it's not time yet. Please, wait a little longer."
Ana didn't listen. She pushed her way through my body as if she were clawing her way out.
Oh my God, what if she really does have claws? The thought made me nauseous, but surely Susie would have caught that in the ultrasound. It struck me as ironic that the evil nurse from the Rent-A-Kid clinic that had imprisoned me shared a name with the amazing woman who helped me now.
"Susie, this hurts so bad! I can't push again. I just can't."
"You have to, Sam. We have to get her out. Just breathe and... push!"
I pushed through the contraction, struggling to breathe.
Then another consciousness settled into me. I felt him there.
"Drake."
Chapter 71 – Drake
When consciousness finally came, it took its time and wrapped Drake in a gauzy, white cocoon. Pain moved in next, slowly, bringing an awareness of each part of his beaten body. Nothing made sense. Images and memories and thoughts jumbled together in his mind.
Where am I? What happened?
He cracked his eyes open and found another set of eyes staring at him—brown eyes in a small, swollen face. The boy. He'd tried to save the boy, and had gotten his ass kicked.
So much for being a superhero.
The boy scooted back when he saw Drake's eyes flutter open. "Are you crazy, mister? They could'a killed you."
For some reason, Drake found that funny, but when he tried to laugh, sharp spikes pierced his lungs. All humor vanished. "They looked like they were killing you. What did you take from them?"
The kid's eyes jerked back and forth like a hunted animal. "I didn't take nothing, yo. I swear it."
Each breath, each word, felt like it was stealing another moment of life, but Drake had to know about the drug. "Well, they sure think you did. Look, kid, I'm not going to hurt you. Do you think I'd get myself nearly killed just to pick up where they left off?"
The boy tugged on his torn, dirty shirt. "Guess not."
"Okay, then. So we agree. I'm not going to hurt you. Why don't you try telling me the truth?" Years of living with the knowledge that people would do whatever he wanted had given Drake a certain confidence. Even if the loss of his powers had shaken that confidence, his charisma still encouraged people to answer him. "If you're in some kind of trouble, I might be able to help you. But you have to trust me."
The boy's eyes swelled with tears as he moved closer. "It's my mom. She's, like, real sick. And I heard this drug might give her, or me, some extra... I don't know... powers. Maybe it would help her. I didn't know what else to do."
Could it be? "Do you have the drugs with you?"
The kid shook his head. "I hid 'em. You know, in case they came after me."
Drake sighed in relief. "Good job. Very clever. Now, listen carefully. I do have certain powers. And if you can get me some of those drugs, I can heal myself and help you and your mom, okay?"
The boy frowned. "You ever done 'em before?"
"No."
"Then how do you know? You playin' me, man? Trying to steal from me?"
"Kid, what would have happened to you if I hadn't fought those guys?"
He looked down. "Dunno. Probably be dead."
"Right, so maybe I am trying to help? What's your name?"
"Toby."
"Toby, I'm Drake, and I really can help you. But you've got to get me that drug, okay?"
Toby nodded and took off down the alley. Drake tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't hold. He desperately hoped this drug would bring back his powers. It seemed unbelievable, but he would grab at any straw to protect his family again.
Pockets of time blurred together as Drake faded in and out of consciousness. The pain, so sharp at first, ebbed—still there, but not such a big deal. He wondered if he was dying, but had a hard time caring either way. The only things that kept him tethered to the pain—to life—were Sam and their baby. If he died, he would never be able to help them, and Sam would forever think him the worst kind of human being for abandoning them.