Savage Drift

^{CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE} DEAN

“Sir, I understand the objective, but surely a low dose of magnesium sulfate wouldn’t affect the fetus—”

A woman is on the phone.

I’m in a car. No, bigger than a car. Couldn’t remember what it was called.

We are driving fast.

“This is one of the worst cases of preeclampsia I have ever seen—” She gets cut off.

“The protein levels—this girl is in danger—” She’s cut off again.

“Well, sir, that’s not the problem. The fetal heartbeat is very strong.”

We are moving fast and I hear a siren.

Oh. My head. It hurts.

“Yes sir,” she says and she hangs up.

I open my eyes again.

I am looking up at a ceiling. In my field of vision there is the underside of a metal cabinet and a black square on the ceiling with lights flashing in it. Red, white, red, yellow. Red, white, red, yellow.

“Those friggin’ jackholes,” the woman curses.

“I know, I know,” says a man’s voice.

“Under no circumstances are we to administer any drugs to that poor girl! Not even a little magnesium sulfate for the convulsions! I mean, really?”

I feel warm and relaxed, like I am swimming in soup.

It is a skylight, I realize slowly. It is nighttime and I am seeing the sky and the red, white, red, yellow pattern is the reflection of lights. They are pretty.

“What if she dies?”

“We save the baby.”

The man I can’t see curses.

Astrid. Astrid. Where is she?

I turn my head and I moan.

The pain cuts through the warmth. Slices right through. God, what happened to my head?

I see Astrid there across from me, an IV in her arm and her belly exposed with some kind of belt with electrode cords running this way and that and machines monitoring and beeping. I remember her.

“Astrid,” I say.

I hear movement and then there is a face above me, an Indian lady with a lined face and gray hair cut short.

“Hey,” she says. “Can you hear me? Do you know what year it is?”

“Two thousand…,” I say, my voice raspy. “Two thousand and…”

I should know this.

“Do you know where you are?”

“In a car… A big medicine car.” What is the stupid word for it?

“How many weeks is she?” the woman asks. “I need to know about her pregnancy. Anything you can tell me will help.”

Her face bobs and stretches.

“He’s passing out again,” she calls up front.

Not passing out, I want to tell her, just swimming.

I hear her rummaging in the cabinet above my head.

“Don’t,” says the voice from up front.

“I need the info. It won’t hurt him. He’s been out for such a long time. It will be good for him to be awake.”

She pats my face.

“Hello,” she says. “Open wide.”

I open my mouth a little. She puts a little pill on my tongue. I close my lips.

“This will pep you up a bit.”

Then BOOMBOOMBOOM my heart is going like a bass drum and I want to sit up but now I realize I am tied down to the cot.

“Whoa,” I say “Wow!”

“Easy there,” she tells me.

“That stuff’s not for kids, Binwa,” the guy up front says. “He’s gonna feel worse when it wears off.”

The warm, relaxed feeling evaporates and I see everything very clearly.

The woman leans over me and I can see into her pores and each of her eyelashes is distinct.

Ambulance, I remember. We are in an ambulance. And we were in a drift. And I nearly crashed into an Army truck.

“Tell me about your girlfriend,” she says. And I do.

Binwa takes off the restraints that were holding me to the padded stretcher.

My head is bandaged. When I sit up, I have to hold it to keep my brain from exploding—that’s what it feels like. But all that matters is Astrid.

“Dean,” Astrid says. I kneel next to her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I tell her. I start kissing her hand. I know that is a weird thing to do, but I am so glad to see her awake. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“This is good,” Binwa says. She comes over. “Astrid, we’re less than an hour out. The doctors are waiting for you at USAMRIID.”

Astrid closes her eyes and I think she is going out again. but she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you saying that?” I ask.

“I can’t do it,” Astrid says. Her eyes, still closed, are leaking tears. There is a crust of dried skin on her lips. I can see a vein pulsing at her temple.

“Shhh,” I tell her and I kiss her forehead. “We’re almost there.”

“I want you to know something.”

“What?”

“I love you,” she says. Her eyes close and tears leak out of the corners. “I just want you to know that.”

“I do know it. I do, Astrid.”

She opens her eyes and looks at me one last time and then her eyes rolls up in her head and she start to shake violently.

“No!” Binwa shouts. “Gus, hit the siren. You’ve got to get us there, now!”

The siren blares. Gus drives faster. The night road is streaming behind us and my girl is dying.

“You give her that stuff!” I shout at Binwa. I looked around for a weapon. Something to make her do whatever it would take to save Astrid.

“Calm down!” Binwa roars at me. “Look! Look! She’s coming out of it now.”

I turn and see that Astrid is coming out of it. She is sitting straight up. She is arching her back and she is screaming.

Then we see that her legs are wet.

“Gus!” Binwa shouts. “Her water broke!”