Soul Bearer

By Josi Wales

How do you fight off love when you don't know what it looks like? Forbidden to Johnny, his focus must be on the ones who want to toy with him, or kill him. But when heartstrings pull Johnny within his enemies reach, how will he survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Josi Wales
• Release date: Dec 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310735493

Josi Wales

If you were to give Josi Wales the option of choosing a super hero ability she would jump at the chance to fly. Being a stay a home mom, she longed for sights outside her daily scenery and found them in the worlds she creates without taking a step outside. And though you might think those people are crazy who walk down the streets animatedly talking to themselves, she secretly is one of them. Though well hidden, Josi puts this endless habit of ongoing and senseless conversations into the lives she molds.Deciding to take on the daunting task of attempting to write a first book, Josi toiled at the computer and painstakingly produced the first chapter. Excited and proud of the hard work and effort she put into it, she nervously handed it to her husband and waited. The outcome was not what she had hoped, but loves her husband more for the honesty and uplifting support that swiftly came after. Forcing herself to look at the positive side and backed with her husband’s kind words, she took another brutal stab at rewriting the first chapter and came out, this time, with happy tears.Writing fiction books allows her imagination to run wild. Anything is possible when you get to make up the rules and she likes to play on human emotions. She tries to set the scenes so that her readers can relate to the feelings and situations happening on the pages and bring them to an atmosphere that is different from their own.Already she has more ideas of outlandish, or right in your back yard stories eager to be written, and hopes to make mouths drop or tears fall.

Book preview

Dark clouds loomed in the heavy night air. Large drops fell, stirring up dust as they splattered the ground where a little boy, no older than eight, ran barefoot along a beaten trail. He dodged the jagged rocks and fallen tree limbs that littered his way as he ran; hot breath trailing behind him in the cold night air. He pushed his small feet and tiny lungs to the max, and they responded, carrying him as fast as they could go. But it was not fast enough. Thunderous hooves closed in from behind him in the dark.

Not wasting time to slow down, he slammed into the front door of his ramshackle home. With cold fingers in a frantic fumble for the small rope that held the door closed, he at last found the rope and yanked.

They chose us, his shaky voice squeaked as he burst into the room.

His mother jumped from her chair, staring into her youngest son’s ashen face as the blood drained from her own. Hurry, they’re coming for us! She wailed up the small, rickety staircase. We have to go. . . Now!

In reply, a gangly teenage boy climbed down. Seeing the look on his mother’s face, her fear seeped into him and became his own.

What about father? the teenage boy asked, panic flooding his troubled eyes.

They probably already have him, his mother replied, fighting to hold back the burning flood of tears that threatened her ability to keep her sons safe. She clung to her youngest boy’s tiny hand and followed behind her teenage son; just like they had planned if this moment ever came.

The teenage son led them through the rubbish and filth of their little house to the back door. His father had shown him the escape route many times. They were well prepared. He peeked out the back door, glanced left, then right. Nothing moved. Motioning to his mother and brother to follow quietly, the teenage boy held the door open while the other two stepped out. They waited, and he took the lead again.

A large brown horse charged from around the side of the house. The mother screamed, pulling her youngest out of the way as the horse’s heaving chest rammed into her older son. Watching her oldest skitter across the rocky ground, then come to a sickening stop, the mother cried out, torn between rushing to his side and staying to protect the youngest.

The rider of the horse jumped down, grabbed the teenage boy by the ankle, and dragged him back toward the rundown shack. When he was close enough, the mother launched at him, trying to break her unconscious son from his grasp. Without a second glance, the man kicked her backward as he grabbed the younger boy by the hair, now dragging them both back into the shack.

Struggling to her feet as her littlest screamed out for her, the mother ran off toward the house, clambering up the back steps just in time to see the two still and bloody bodies on the ground. Hysterical screams escaped the woman as she fell to her knees, and crawled toward her sons. Five men surrounded the still bodies, and as the mother tried to get past them they hoisted and threw her back into the wall behind them. Now she lay still, trying, but failing, to will herself unconscious.

On the ground, just feet from the boys’ bodies was a large white hand drawn circle, and from it came two straight lines, one leading to each boy. As the men watched and waited, the boys’ blood ran along the gritty lines and pooled inside the circle. The dark red puddle grew until the blood stopped flowing, then the tallest of the five men stepped forward. He stood by the bloody puddle, chanting as he sprinkled a chunkier white powder across the warm blood. The pool of blood bubbled and hissed as steam escaped it.

Unable to lie still any longer, the mother rose to her feet. Then, crying out, she clutched her stomach and fell to the floor. The men looked from her pale, pleading face to each other in confusion.

A third? one of the five men asked.

The man closest to the mother grabbed her, dragging her closer to the tall one. Small trails of blood ran down her legs as she weakly kicked out at those closest. The man let go of her with a shove, sending her to the tall man’s feet. He knelt beside her, studying her features.

Are you with child? he asked.

She shook her head, biting her lip against the pain.

He nodded, We shall see.

She cried out again as the tall man pulled out a small amount of white chalk. He touched the tip of the chalk on the ground, close to her pelvis, and then dragged the chalk toward the white ring surrounding the brutal puddle. As if a valve had opened, she watched in horror as the blood coming from her womb found the chalky line and joined the bubbling blood of her unborn child’s brothers.

Too weak now to do anything but watch in agony, the mother sat motionless as the men waited for the blood to stop flowing. Then the chanting continued.

As the tall man knelt beside the bubbling puddle, a hushed silence fell over the small group. He reached into the puddle as if it had become a well, his arm disappearing all the way up to his shoulder. He moved his arm around, feeling and searching until another rough hand grabbed his. Pulling back, he carefully pulled his arm and the hand that gripped it up and out of the blood.

Then another hand broke the surface of the puddle from beneath, and one of the other men stepped forward to grab it. Just as the mother’s heart beat its last few times, she saw the savagery of the bone-armored face emerge from her son’s blood.

After pulling their returned master from the chalky circle, the men knelt down before him and watched in awe as his bone armor sunk beneath his wrinkled skin. Looking with disdain around him at the rundown shack and the five men surrounding him, the old man pushed past them, stepped over the bodies and out of the shack.

***

Hundreds of miles away, on the farthest edge of the same dark skies, a young man with curly black hair stumbles as if sleepwalking across the fine sands of an unknown beach. His mind doesn’t lead him, but his soul knows it must stop and wait a few yards from the water’s edge. As his lifeless eyes stare into the ocean’s distant horizon, he is unaware of his surroundings or the two men waiting for him. Patiently, they watch.

Salty winds rush off the water’s surface, stirring his black curls, but disturbing nothing else. The winds and clouds swirl around and above the man, and then descend to hang just over his head. As the winds grow and the clouds thicken, they form a small storm just above the young man’s zombielike form. The growing storm flashes and cracks, but his body doesn’t flinch. The storm condenses, pulling itself in to create a large, tight sphere. Rapid-fire flickering and flashes of light are contained within the sphere, but outside it, the air is still and the winds have calmed. The storm pressure inside the sphere continues to build, and the two men duck behind large rocks protruding from the sand just as the storm releases. A blinding lightning strike surges from the sphere crackling through the still air and rushes through the young man’s body. He falls to the ground, lifeless and limp.

After the storm weakens and dissipates, the two men emerge from their hiding place. One drags a shovel behind him in the sand while the other rushes over to roll the body out of the way.

They dig a circle where the young man stood, and dig through the sand until they find it. Then, pulling from the sand the large amount of fresh lightning glass, they wrap it in the material they were carrying and put it in a padded bag. As they leave, they bring with them the body and its precious glass, never to be seen by loved ones again.

CHAPTER ONE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The scream filled my head, and my eyes snapped open to the blinding morning sun. I turned my head away, shutting my eyes to the blast of light. Small orbs of the sun’s ghost danced behind my eyelids. I was aware now how the pounding in my head echoed every beat of my racing heart. My breath struggled to keep up.

Slowly reopening my eyes, I gave them time to adjust to the bright light piercing the slightly open blinds. I tried to slow my breathing, deep in and deep out. After a few minutes of this steady breathing, I felt my heart slow and my breath choose a more relaxed pace.

It was only then that I noticed the aching in my hands. Looking down, I wondered at the vise grip I had on my sweat-soaked sheets. A dream? A nightmare? I didn’t know. It felt like more. Stretching my fingers out, I relaxed my shoulders and neck. I could feel the tension in my body easing up, but the scream continued to bounce off the grogginess of my still waking mind. Pain and anxiety flooded my brain, leaving an impression of some anxious worry like the sun’s ghost on my eyelids. Was something wrong? Was there something terrifying lying in wait for me? Was there something I needed to do?

Over and over, the scream replayed itself in my mind. Closing my eyes I tried to remember what the dream was about, but the endless blackness behind my closed lids was all my mind could see. The blackness felt cold, magnifying the stress and sense of urgency. I realized I was holding my breath, so I let it out slowly, trying to release with it the inexplicable dread that was weighing me down.

I pulled up one knee and leaned it against the white wall in an attempt to feel more comfortable. This seemed to help. I relaxed my neck and rotated my head to ease out the last bit of tension from my neck and took another deep breath.

A click sounded across the room, and before I could identify it, my door slammed open into the wall with a loud bang. My body reacted, jumping halfway out of bed. My eyes once again grew wide, and my hands resumed their tight clench on my sheets. My heart returned to its crescendo, now pounding in my throat.

Then Nathan appeared in the doorway.

Geez!! I cried. How much more could I handle, this was not a good way to start a day. I looked at the figure now standing in my door. Nathan, are you trying to kill me? I was surprised by the shakiness and the harsh tone in my voice, a reflection of my nerves and emotions still in overdrive.

Nathan just stared at me as if he hadn’t noticed my mood.

Then, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little boy, Nathan said with a wide smile spreading across his face, Johnny, he’s called us! The Prophet has called everyone to the main hall. Hurry! Get up! Nathan’s voice was a bit higher than normal, excitement overwhelming him.

I blinked, and he was gone.

Nathan’s interruption had allowed the dream to slip from my mind, and I couldn’t help but feel some of his infectious joy. But now, just as fast as the joy had appeared, the dread crawled back out of the shadows of my mind.

Trying to shake it off, I headed for the restroom, just a few short steps away. I glanced at my clock as I stood, noticing that I had slept a little longer than expected. I hurried to dress, then splashed cold water on my face to rinse off the sticky sweat. Grabbing the towel, I paused at my reflection in the mirror, noticing a new dishevelment to my long dark curls that, by now, almost reached my nose. I shook my head to get them out of my face, revealing a pale cast to my creamy olive complexion. This made my sharp features stand out, making my green eyes seem to glow. I laughed to myself to force a lightening of my mood. The residual terror from my strange dream had made me look like an elf. Remembering the urgency of Nathan’s call, I put the towel down and hurried out of my room. Out in the hall, there were only a few people left, all hurrying along with the same look of eager excitement Nathan had.

The chances of connecting with a Destined were about one hundred to one, and of those who actually connect with their Destined, only ten percent get to leave the Den. The rest end up with routine desk jobs best suited to the most fearful or timid among us. This thought slowed my pace, a reluctance surfacing. As long as we didn’t know what our call would be, there was still a chance of being in that 10 percent. Once we received our assignment, it was settled. Forever.

I don’t want to be stuck here forever. Even though, my body looked twenty-five, I’ve already been in the Den for more than 300 years. And, the longer I stayed, the more trouble Nathan and I found. Almost everyone, but the frightened or dull wanted to get out of the Den.

My time to leave was way overdue. What was keeping me here? Sure, I wanted excitement and to see the unknown, but there was something else. Something quietly nagging at me from one of those small corners of my mind, one of those places everyone has but rarely visits; an unnamed void that wants something just out of my reach.

The lingering anxiety and unease from this morning’s dream was still running through my system, keeping me from joining in the excited pace of the others hurrying around me. I knew I should quicken my pace. When the Prophet called, things happened fast, and he had to be accessible when that time comes, or you could lose your Destined. I sighed and worked myself up to jogging to catch up to the others, spurred with the idea of getting out.

The Den was a maze of soft tan walls, dark brown wainscoting, and dark red pathways that connect the hundreds of apartments and classrooms. I had followed this particular path and call process multiple times, enough to know that I probably had a better chance next time than now. It was a definite advantage to get there early. I rounded the final turn and skidded to a halt; my eyes bugged and my mouth dropped open at the sight of the large, ornate doors that were closed in front of me. I stared in disbelief at their intricate carvings of two large cranes. I was too late.

What do I do? I thought out loud. I have never missed a calling before. Can you still connect with your Destined if you aren’t actually inside the main hall? If the Call was for me and I was not in there, would my Destined go to someone else? A sinking dread slumped my shoulders, and I turned to go back to my little room.

But as I turned to leave, the same anxious, pained-filled scream from my earlier dream flooded my senses again. I covered my ears, closed my eyes, and fell to my knees; expecting the sharp pain of meeting the concrete floor, but instead, the surface they met was cushioned and crunchy.

I leaned all the way forward, hands still on my ears, and the scream still assaulting them. When my face touched the ground, sharp points caused me to shoot back up and open my eyes. Colorful red, brown and tan leaves covered the ground. Where was I? I looked all around me for a clue, and didn’t even notice that the screaming had stopped.

Trees surrounded me, it obviously was fall. As if to refine my assessment, a sharp, cold breeze swept up and chilled my body. Must be late fall, I thought. Wrapping my arms around myself, I rubbed at the rising goose bumps. Is this another dream? I reached down and grabbed a leaf. Holding it by the stem, I spun it a few times between my forefinger and thumb, and then let it fly away with the following wind. I watched as it skittered past nearby tree trunks. I have rarely been outside the Den walls, and even then the Den was always kept in view. Remembering how, moments ago I had thought about my desire to get out of the Den, I now desired even more to be back in its safety.

Panic was starting to build within me, and I knew I had to do something before it took control. Placing one hand on the dry leaves for support, I got up from my knees and began dusting off the small pieces of broken leaves still clinging to me, crushed by the weight of my fall. A few small damp spots on my pants came from the moist ground under its fall carpeting.

I did a few quick turns to look at my surroundings. I recognized nothing. Most of the thin bare trees around me had white bark that I have never seen, and there were only a few skeletal remains of small bushes or shrubs. No land marks. No bodies of water. Nothing but trees that seemed to go on forever. On my last spin, I noticed a small clearing I had overlooked at first glance. Figuring it to be my best option, I headed in that direction.

Each leaf-crunching step towards my destination seemed to call attention to me, but whose attention? Although the place seemed deserted, the crunching of each step screamed, Look at me! The concentration I put into quieting my steps kept me from hearing a faint approaching roar until the object itself came into view. I was almost to the clearing, but this object, I recognized from my studies as a car was advancing at a high, erratic speed. It was red, and, I was pleased to be able to recall from pictures I had seen, a station wagon. It was coming fast, but it didn’t sound good, clanking a few times, and after a loud pop, swerving wildly to a stop beside the road. I ran the rest of the way to the clearing, pausing when I got there to look in the direction of the troubled vehicle.

A scream came from the car, matching just the one that had been in my head all morning. It was the only thing I recognized in this place, and I ran full speed toward it.

Reaching the car in seconds I stopped at the passenger side window. A woman was inside. She had smooth brown hair, and I caught a brief glimpse of her large brown eyes before she shut them tight, clutched her swollen belly and screamed again.

I covered my ears with my hands and took a step back from the car, keeping my eyes on this struggling creature. I had never seen a woman in person, but I had seen pictures. My first instinct was to run away, but I stood there as if frozen into place.

She was beautiful, even in her agony. As I stared at her enormous belly, a strange pulling sensation grew in my chest, drawing me closer to her. I took a small step toward the car. Then another movement caught my attention. A man with glasses and dark, close cropped hair was on a cell phone. I could see the fear in his eyes and the sweat beading on his forehead. He kept one white-knuckled hand on the steering wheel as he talked; the other gripped the phone.

We are on South Aspen, he said into the phone, his voice trembling. The car broke down. After a pause and a short worried glance at the woman next to him, he said, My emergency? My wife is having her baby! This last part came as a scream, partly to be heard over his wife, and partly to release his own fear and frustration. This was not how it was supposed to happen.

CHAPTER TWO

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! she screamed again. This one matched the scream from my dream exactly. The man looked at his wife, a cloud of helplessness in his eyes. Then he looked toward the window beyond her and did a double take as he saw me for the first time. His wife followed his gaze, breathing heavy, but steady now. She too, jumped in surprise when she saw me, then clenched her teeth and held her belly as the pain returned. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her hair was damp against her face. The man got out of the car and hurried around to meet me.

She’s having our first child, he said as if this situation needed any clarification. Who are you? Where did you come from? He looked at his wife, then back to me, eyes pleading. Please tell me you know something about child birth, he said.

I don’t, I said. I wanted to reduce his anxiety, but the truth was not only did I not know anything about childbirth, but I had no idea where I came from.

Nothing? he persisted. No medical degree or experience, even with animals?

No, sorry.

First aid training, maybe?

No.

Lifeguard? CPR? I shook my head. Were you never even a freaking Boy Scout? he asked, starting to panic. Pacing back and forth, he was absorbed in his thoughts.

No. I said. Nothing. This guy was starting to annoy me. And what the heck is a Boy Scout? How far is it to the hospital? I asked, looking back at the woman, now writhing in pain.

He looked, too, and I saw that he was on the verge of total freak out. What was I supposed to do? The woman in the car was in pain and danger, and her only hope was her husband, who was losing it, and me.

In the Den, we were forbidden any contact or relationship with the opposite sex. The only information I have of women came through pictures and archive movies shown to us, and this didn’t happen real often. In the Den, we were sheltered from the outside world. Our entire being was focused on one purpose.

We are Soul Bearers. Our greatest responsibility, the reason we exist is to find our Destined, someone of the same sex, living somewhere in the world outside the Den. Once we find our Destined, our mission is to keep them safe until we are bonded with them in a sacred ceremony. Each of these bonded pairs then assumed its job of protecting the unknowing from the hideous Evil that lurks unseen, threatening the future of humanity’s sacred balance. This Evil, which we at the Den knew all too well and based all our training on defeating, was known to us as the Bone Father.

It was determined centuries ago that it was best if we didn’t have relationships with the opposite sex to distract us from our sole purpose. So, for hundreds of years, the males and females of the Den lived separate lives; though under the same roof.

Now this woman, sitting here in the car, confirmed this ancient wisdom. Even as she struggled against her pain and current situation, her beauty was distracting. It didn’t help any that this pull in my chest toward her was getting stronger as if gravity had changed course and was now dragging me toward her.

Ignoring the man’s response to my question, I placed one hand on the top of the car and allowed myself to give in to the pull for a few seconds. I found myself with my face against the window.

What are you doing? the man asked, a hint of possessiveness entering his voice.

I yanked myself upright, my face burning, and gave a nervous laugh. This was as awkward as it was confusing. The man stepped closer to the car and nudged himself between his wife and me. I stepped back to give him space.

I thought I heard her say something, I said, with mental thanks for one of the few times I’ve ever thought of a good response immediately. The man’s wary expression told me he didn’t quite believe me. Then another devastating scream pierced the air, and he turned to look at his wife.

How far did you say the hospital was? I asked.

He looked over his shoulder, caution still in his eyes. About 20 to 25 minutes down the road still, he said. I already called for an ambulance. I am praying they get here soon. His tension seemed to lessen as he thought of help on the way. He sighed and looked back at his wife.

I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to make a friendly gesture, but still it startled him. It might help a little if we could get her more comfortable while you wait, I suggested. I had no idea if this were true, but it was something to do besides stand there and stare at each other.

What should we do? he asked, now looking to me for advice.

Maybe we should ask her, I said, looking at her agony twisted face. She is the one in pain, after all.

He looked at the station wagon, hesitating for a few seconds before he opened the creaky door and knelt beside his wife. Her teeth were still clenched, her eyes were closed tight, and her face seemed even paler than before. The man placed one gentle hand on her knee, and the other on the hand she had on her belly. Sweet heart? he began.

She cut him off. Don’t sweet heart me, you idiot, she snapped. You are never getting near me again! she screamed at him.

I took an involuntary step back. It was a good thing too because the shock of her outburst knocked him off balance and he fell back, hitting his head hard on the car door before rolling onto the ground, clutching his head.

I struggled to keep my face serious and hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape.

The man struggled back to his feet. With obvious anger on his face and in his manner, he turned aside to cuss the trees behind him.

So, I thought to myself, when he knelt beside her, he wasn’t just showing his tender side, he was being cautious — and for good reason.

I walked up to the open car door, making sure to give her space and leave myself an escape route. Excuse me ma’am, I said softly. As she turned to me, I could see the fire of out-of-control pain in her eyes. I didn’t back up this time, even though her emotion was still overwhelming. It felt as if she could reach out and snap your bones if you upset her. No nice talk, I told myself as I met her stare but didn’t allow mine to overpower hers. Our locked eyes seemed to be sizing up the situation, and then her features softened, her angry glare downgrading its intensity to curious stare.

Her eyes didn’t leave my face, but now she seemed to be searching it. Would it help if you stood? I asked.

She didn’t answer, but continued to stare at me. I offered my hand to help her. She brought up her hand, hesitated, and then rested it in mine. Her hand was small, and her skin was soft. I noticed that her hand fit nicely in mine. Chills ran up my arm and down my back. It pooled in my chest as a soft burning. I struggled with myself for a second and then gave her a small smile.

She gave a slight smile back.

Careful not to jar her, I helped her to her feet. She swayed, and then steadied herself with a hand on the car door. I only had the opportunity to get her a few steps from the car when her husband took her hand from me, and they continued to the front of the car.

I was only able to stare at her as she left me. I didn’t want to let go of her hand; it had felt so right. Now the chills and burning were gone. What was that about? I wondered. It was like tasting something so good that one piece wasn’t enough. You wanted to gorge yourself on it, and no matter how much of it you had, it always left you wanting more.

I shook my head. I supposed that is why they keep us separated from the women! I laughed to myself. I looked down at my now empty hand and tried to remember how hers felt, but the feeling had already faded. I closed it into a fist as if to hang on to any remaining sensation, and made my way to the front of the car where they stood.

She was resting against the front of the car, her breathing steady and deep to help keep things under control. He stood next to her, rubbing her back a little and trying to keep her comfortable. I watched as he leaned closer to her, and then put one arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. He pressed his lips against her forehead and a warm smile spread across her face.

She looked up at him to stare into his eyes and whispered, I’m sorry, love.

In answer, he cradled her chin in his hand and pulled her face toward his. Their lips pressed and moved together in a sweet embrace I could never have imagined.

Then her hand shot up, and she shoved him away, almost knocking him off the car. She turned to vomit, and then fell to her knees. She wrapped her arms around her swollen belly and screamed that scream again. The mother’s breathing was shallow and rapid, and tears rolled from her eyes.

I don’t think it’s waiting any longer, she said, voice quivering. Sweat droplets mixed with the tears trailing down her cheeks. She clenched her teeth together and tried to hold back another scream.

We need to get her comfortable, the man said to me as he glanced up from beside his wife.

I looked around me and felt useless. Trees and leaves surrounded us. Maybe the leaves, I thought to myself. We could pile them up and create a soft bed… then a breeze picked up to remind me of its chill. She probably shouldn’t be in the cold. I corrected myself. Then the back of the car caught my eye. I rushed around the car for a closer look. I think we should try laying her down in the back of your car, I shouted to the other end.

Now to get it open. They had shown us pictures and movies of these things in the Den, but that practice didn’t show us how to use the stuff. I noticed the gap around the back edges of the car and traced them with my fingers. My fingers were trembling, as was the rest of me. This made it difficult to see what made this thing open. One thing was clear, however. My fingers were too large to get into the cracks and pull the door open.

Lift the black handle, the man said.

They were now standing behind me. I hadn’t even noticed when they arrived. Keeping my eyes on my work, the only black anything I saw was a long rectangle with rounded edges in the center of the door. Lift, huh? I put my thumbs under the rectangle and pushed up. As if by magic, the door opened with little effort. I pushed it open the rest of the way. There were a few things in the back, so I pushed them to the side or tossed them out.

Here, he said as he handed his wife’s hand back to me. I put my free arm around her as he had done to support her. He took off his jacket and was arranging it inside for her. She leaned into me, pressing against my side. She was warm, and though she was in pain, this was comforting to me. And the pull in my chest had come alive again, now feeling as if it were about to reach out and grab what it desired.

The thought of him pressing his lips against hers flashed in my head and brought up the desire in me to do the same. I looked at her as she watched him situating things, and wondered how one would go about doing it. Then she was out of my arms again, her warmth and the pull in my chest now fading.

As he struggled to help her to lie down in the cleared space, her breathing accelerated, and she began to moan. Then, wriggling around, she managed to find a comfy spot, or as comfy a position as the back of a station wagon could offer her.

I think it’s coming! she squeaked. This new tone in her voice was softer but much scarier than the scream. Her face tightened as she brought up her knees. Her skirt, sliding half way up her thigh, moved to reveal more of her leg; I was starting to understand what made women distracting. I tried not to look at the smooth roundness of her feminine legs. A new chill ran through me. Wow, I thought, women have an influence over me that is… overwhelming. I shook my head and willed myself to stop staring at her as if she were the only thing that mattered.

Her husband was at her knees now. As sweat rolled down his temples, he wiped it on his shoulder. He was at a complete loss for what to do next, and he kept looking around as he tried to find something that would give him the aid or encouragement he needed to get them through this.

He started to push her skirt up further, but then, looking at me yanked it back. He turned and squared his shoulders to mine. I think you should get in the back seats and try to comfort her, he said.

I didn’t quite understand his thoughts on this, but I figured he had some new plan for helping his wife. Turning, I walked to the side door and got in, making sure to close it behind me, so the cold breeze didn’t rush through. She was lying down as well as possible, and he had taken back his place at her knees. She screamed through her teeth as she slightly sat up, and her body was tense. Her screaming stopped, and her face was pale and strained. She stayed that way for a few seconds. She wasn’t breathing.

What’s going on? I thought out loud. I looked at her husband, seeing that his confusion and worry mirrored my own.

Honey, are you ok? he asked softly.

She didn’t answer.

He started moving toward her, but stopped as she released the breath she was holding and relaxed a little. Relieved, he relaxed too, as much as he dared, and took a deep breath.

Her breathing was steady for a few seconds and then she tensed up again. She was still, again holding her breath as she tightened her face once more. We all tensed up, holding our breath together now as we waited for her to release her hold on her lungs and relax again. When she did, her husband pulled her skirt up again. He jumped away from the car a step or two and just stared for a moment with his hands on his head. He turned away and slid his hands down to cover his face. He didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything. I stared at him, wondering what to do. I glanced down at the woman and startled when I saw that she was staring at me.

She was quiet now, with a soft and tender look in her eyes. She brought up one hand, placed it on my cheek, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes and lean into her touch. The chills ran through me again, but this time they were different. The first time I felt it, they were no ordinary chills, but this time they burned deep in the pit of my stomach and glowed there. This new sensation pulsed through every inch of my being, and my mind felt whole for those few brief seconds. I wanted to soak it up and keep her hand there, but another painful contraction brought me back to reality.

Her hand returned to her belly, but her eyes, now filled with pain, were still on me. I have faith in you, she whispered, and gave a weak smile. Then another scream escaped as she tightened up.

Her husband was now coming back to the car with a resolved look, the expression of a man who had faced his inner struggles and won. Ok, are you ready for this? he asked with a new resolution. He was looking at his wife, but I realized he was talking to me.

I believe so, I said, trying hard not to reveal my concern.

The baby isn’t coming head first, he said. It’s coming in the other direction. Oh, what is that called? he asked the heavens. Not getting an answer, he said, I don’t know; it doesn’t matter. We need to hurry this up if we can.

I was glad to see that he had taken a few seconds to get his head on straight because I was feeling useless and worried. And why does she have faith in me? I wondered. Faith for what? I had no idea what to do, or even why I