But I kept advancing, kept the fire going, and soon the flames covered the monster’s entire transforming body.
It screeched as the claws protruding from Mikey’s head blackened, stiffened, and then became ash. Its skin melted and pooled on the road around the twisted ankles.
Then it was gone. Nothing but a pile of ash remained, and I let go of the lighter’s button. The cold took the heat’s place in a fraction of a second, yet my forehead was slick with sweat. I was thankful the tip of my thumb no longer burned, but also scared of the new darkness.
Breathing hard, I almost collapsed on the spot. I would’ve if I’d been alone, but I wasn’t alone. I had Mia to take care of, Mia who was in labor but still on the precipice of death.
I pocketed the lighter and the bug spray, turned, and bolted for the broken snowmobile.
“Is it gone?” Mia moaned. Slowly, she shook her head. Her eyes were open, but the lids were heavy, drooping.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s gone.” I neglected to add for now.
“Where a-are we?”
“We’re right outside the City. Just a few minutes away. Can you hang on?”
She smiled. It almost seemed like she was drugged. I figured her body had gone into shock to prevent the pain. I don’t know how realistic such an assumption was, but it was what I hoped for, at least.
“I’m gonna have to carry you,” I said. “The sled’s done in.”
She barked a shrill laugh. “A twig like you, c-carry a cow like me? No w-way.”
I feigned offense. “I’m neither a twig nor are you a cow, and even if that were the case, I would carry you regardless.”
We couldn’t stay in this tunnel another minute. There was no telling how long it would be until more monsters showed up. They sensed fear and pain from miles away.
I bent into the cab and guided her down the seat toward me. Just as I was doing this, her body jolted and she flashed her teeth. A windy, almost-soundless scream escaped between the spaces. The type of contraction your body couldn’t numb itself for was beginning.
I stumbled backwards, watching the rise and fall of her stomach as the baby inside moved.
I laughed with relief, thinking it meant the baby, Monica, was alive.
“Grady—” Mia gasped. “She—she’s comin’.”
“Now?”
My answer arrived in the form of an ear-splitting scream. Mia threw herself back against the driver’s side door and wrenched the wheel. I dug into my pants pocket for the lighter. I was more scared now than I was when I stood face-to-face with a monster that oozed tentacles and God knew whatever else.
What I saw was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I don’t think I can even write it, so I’ll leave out the messier descriptions here and tell you this: what I saw was the baby’s hair and goop covered head.
“Help me! Help, Grady!”
“I-I-I—uh—”
“Goddamn it! HELLLLLLP MEEEE!”
My heart kicked into overdrive. I shined the flame down on the sled’s floor, looking for something—anything—that might help.
Lo and behold, I saw a flashlight. It must’ve fallen out of the bag Ell packed us. God bless her. I grabbed it, flipped the power switch, and lay it on the dashboard so its beam was trained at Mia’s lower half.
I said the only thing that came to mind: “Push! PUSHHH!”
And push she did.
I’ve heard labor can last hours, and a woman can push for a good majority of these hours, but that wasn’t Mia’s experience. Counting the time before we got stuck in the tunnel, she had been in labor for a while, I guess, but once the pushing started, it couldn’t have gone any smoother—at least under these circumstances.
Monica arrived a handful of minutes later. She slid out on a wave of blood (much less than what Mia had lost earlier) and bodily fluids. I grabbed her with weak fingers and immediately put her against Mia’s chest. She was sobbing, but for a while, the baby wasn’t.
“Is she okay? Is she breathing? Grady, I-I don’t think she’s breathing!”
An anvil fell from my throat into my stomach. My mind was whirling, but I had no idea what to do.
Then a wet, wailing scream filled the snowmobile, and Monica kicked her arms and legs.
“She’s okay. She’s okay!” Mia shouted. “Oh, my God! We did it!” She ran her fingers down the back of Monica’s head. “Shh, honey, shh, it’s okay.”
I pulled my hoodie and the sweater beneath off, then I draped them over the baby. Mia tucked the makeshift blanket tighter around Monica. It wasn’t a swaddle, but it would have to do.
I clamped the umbilical cord with a piece of cloth—not ideal, but enough to last until we got into the city.
After the cord was “clamped,” I cut it with a piece of glass I had run my lighter over to disinfect. Again, not ideal. Now that Monica was out, and from what I could see, healthy, I wasn’t so scared. Even though I didn’t know what I was doing, I felt like I did. Fake it until you make it, I guess. In the spirit of spared details, I’ll not tell you of the arrival of the afterbirth. Just know I would’ve taken worm-like tentacles poking out of a face over seeing that any day.
Smiling with tears falling down my cheeks, I said, “We can’t stay here, Mia. We have to go. We have to get her someplace safe.”
Warmth flickered in Mia’s eyes. She had been riding a wave of happiness brought on by the successful birth, but now reality was here with a needle to burst this bubble. “But I don’t think I can walk—”
“I’ll carry you both. The City isn’t far. I made a promise to myself that I would protect you and her, that I would get you to safety. And I don’t break promises.”
She stuttered, unsure of what to say, so I continued. “There’s no telling
