The Surge Trilogy (Book 3): We, The Final Few by P.S. Lurie

The Surge Trilogy (Book 3): We, The Final Few by P.S. Lurie

Author:P.S. Lurie [Lurie, P.S.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Dystopian
Published: 2017-03-02T05:00:00+00:00


Melissa

I play through the demonstrations in my head to make sure that I haven’t forgotten anything before I insert the tube into Ronan’s arm. As potentially fatal as this could be, I have a good idea from my knowledge of blood types and the time spent organising the hospital in the Middlelands that Travis is a viable donor. A trickle of the man’s blood leads from his body into Ronan’s; it’s risky if the boy rejects it or if I set up the procedure wrong but it’s too late to worry about that now. “Even a pint would help,” I say.

“Would be a shame to lose him now.” Travis notices that Ronan isn’t paying attention. “Isn’t that right?”

Ronan doesn’t connect with the question for a second. “Sure, yeah.” He’s either still faint or distracted, maybe fearful of seeing blood or he’s thinking about something unrelated that he hasn’t shared with us.

I reckon I have ten or fifteen minutes before we can move on to gather up gauzes and some surgical items, and there’s also time to check on Tess. I’ve already decided that if there’s anything wrong with the baby then I’ll pretend there isn’t until today is over because there’s no point her worrying if we end up dead. With any luck I’ll be able to tell her it’s healthy. “Samuel, can you watch them while Tess and I go and fetch some equipment? Come find me if anything happens.”

“Of course.”

Tess kisses Samuel, not needing me to detail what I really plan. “Back in a minute.”

“Don’t go too far.”

I lead her to the maternity ward which is on the same floor and where I spent a lot of time caring for the Upperlanders; the number of whom thanked me once they found out I was an un-promoted Middlelander I have counted with one hand. Gratitude definitely didn’t flow in my direction yet I had to swallow my anger or I would face repercussions.

I find the machine pushed back against a bed that has seen plenty of pregnant women, and an upsetting image flickers in my mind of how many of these newborns died onboard the Utopia. I’ve assisted in this procedure plenty of times and feel more confident than the blood transfusion that was normally set up from a bag rather than a live donor. As with the train, there’s still an abundance of electricity here so the ultrasound screen flickers to life with the flick of a switch. Tess climbs onto the bed as I lift her shirt and rub cool lubricant over her almost flat stomach and look for the baby’s heartbeat.

“Anything?”

“Not yet. Just give me a moment...”

A beat, then a steady pattern as a head comes into focus followed by a hand. “There it is. I can’t tell you much but there’s your baby.”

Tess tears up, studying the monitor but not understanding anything more than I’ve told her. “Thank you Melissa.”

“Tess, it’s not too late. If you want to find a hiding spot...”

“No.”

“What about your baby?”

“She’ll be healthy and happy long after the Upperlanders have paid for what they’ve done to us.



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