Given (25 page)

“I’m fine. I’m just worried about seeing Braxton Bray.
Please talk to the doctor for me. Make sure he knows this is counter-productive
to my recuperation.”

The man nodded and left. Krista took a deep breath and
pulled the soft leather from its hiding place. A father—she’d never imagined
she had one who cared.

Just because he showed her an ID claiming they shared the
same last name didn’t make him her father, she reminded herself. Flipping back
to the picture, she took a few calming deep breaths, forcing herself not to
react.

Her mother’s face, she was sure this was her mother. The
woman held a little girl in her arms. It was a picture of her and her mother;
she couldn’t have been older than two. She pulled the picture out of the
plastic. There was more to it; it was folded to fit in the plastic rectangle.
She flipped the hidden flap and a younger version of her visitor smiled back at
her. She dropped the wallet and the machine went crazy. Krista scrambled to
grab the wallet and picture, sliding it all under her leg. She lay back,
breathing as deeply as she could.

A man in a white coat rushed in. “I’m Doctor Barnes,” he
said as he moved to the monitor and began punching in codes. He turned to the
nurse who’d trailed in after him. It wasn’t Richard. “Have the requested
information printed out. I want to compare the last hour with last night’s
readings.”

“Yes, doctor,” the man mumbled.

“I’m fine. I’m just panicked because you won’t let Braxton
visit me,” she lied. Maybe her shock would serve her in getting her visitation
with the man she loved.

“That’s not advisable at this time, Miss
Damiani
.”

The doctor left without another word. Krista’s heart sank. She
knew she couldn’t risk looking at the picture again until she’d had some time
to think about the revelation; she did indeed have a father, and he cared about
her enough to carry a picture of their little family around in his wallet all
these years. The picture was very faded and creased. She could tell it wasn’t a
recent addition to his wallet. She slipped the picture out of its hiding place.
Flipping it over, she read the feminine handwriting. Her heart skipped a
beat,
she was looking at her mother’s delicate cursive.
Although she hadn’t been able to read it as a very young child, she’d loved
watching her mother write, seeing the artful loops and lovely tilts as each
letter magically came from her pen. It simply read
Our First Family
Portrait, October 2017
.

That was just six months before the plague. She’d been just
over two and a half years old.
Why can’t I remember having a father?
Her
mind raced as she asked herself the fundamental question.
Who am I?
She
began doubting her own memories.
Muffin.
The nickname
sparked something, a feeling of love and security. She remembered her blanket,
it had pictures of muffins and she’d taken it everywhere with her until the day
they’d come and taken her away without a single possession, including her
blanket, due to the fear of germs. It had been early, before the disease had
done the worst of its damage.

Krista knew in her heart, no DNA test required, that she’d
met her long-lost father. Now she just had to figure out what he wanted to do.
In her condition, she couldn’t exactly jump up and run out of the hospital. Her
baby meant too much to her. Even if they took her child away, at least she
would be alive if Krista stayed.

Hours passed. Her nurse came in and she asked to use the
phone, she’d memorized all the men’s
cellphone
numbers, starting with
Brax’s
, just in case. The
nurse shook his head sadly. “I’m
sorry,
you’re not
allowed to use the phone for security reasons.”

I call bullshit!
Her mind screamed, but her mouth
remained silent. She had a feeling things were going to get worse before they
improved. She was under medical arrest, and her odds of ever again having back
what she’d called her life since leaving the protection facility felt slim. She
realized her child was better off dead than living the life she had. Her heart
blossomed with love for her daughter.

She watched the male nurse working, resentfully. He was as
much a jailer as the guards at the protection facility had been. The nurse
left. A few minutes later, she heard the door. When she looked up it was her
father, still dressed as a janitor.

“Do you believe me?” He went right to the point.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Do you want to stay,
Kristannie
?”

“Hell no, I don’t want to lose my baby,” she told him
angrily.

What they were doing made her want to scream and rail
against the doctors, the politicians, men in general, even Braxton. He
should’ve found a way to come to her. She had a feeling they’d be placing her
with a new six and stealing her baby if she stayed. Too many red flags were in
the air for her to accept that the authorities truly had
her
best
interest at heart.

“I’m coming back at midnight. That’s when there’s the
largest shift change, including your guards. I know you’re worried about your
baby, but we’ll get you to a hospital in Winnipeg, and you’ll be safe there.
The women’s free immigration law provides you automatic citizenship and
protection the moment you pass into Canada. I’ve spent years working with the
survivors’ network, helping families flee to protect their daughters, and
assisting women trying to escape The Giving.”

“I don’t understand. If you knew I was alive, why didn’t you
save me? Why did you leave my mother?”

“We don’t have time for this now,” he said, glancing
nervously at the door. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t leave
your mother. I was incarcerated. I know what you’re going through and how it
feels to be in jail, muffin. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, but my connection
in your protection facility feared approaching you because you were so quick to
obey the rules. She feared you’d report her as a snitch and then all the good
she could do for so many other girls would be lost. Believe me, we had some
heated words, but in the end she’d made up her mind. I’m sorry,
Kristannie
.”

“Krista, you can call me Krista,” she told him, feeling a
bit pathetic. This man was her father, and yet she felt the need for such a
basic introduction. Her anger spent, she just looked at the tall, dark-haired
man. There was silver at his temples, and she noticed deep worry lines etched
in his brow.
Did fear for me, a daughter he barely knows, put the lines
there?
He hadn’t abandoned her, but instead had been away by force, not
choice. Somehow, it wasn’t as comforting as it should be, and she felt sort of
deflated. So much had been taken from her by the cruelness of fate.

A sad looked filled his face. “I suppose the days of
‘muffin’ are long gone. We’ve lost a lot of time, but I promise you I won’t let
you down. I’ve been keeping families together for over a decade. I won’t see
mine destroyed again. I loved your mother and I was happy for the brief time we
had together, the three of us. Be prepared for midnight. Don’t
worry,
I’ve helped people out of tighter spots than this
one.”

She nodded and he left. She ate the terrible soup and dry
toast they brought her, to distract
herself
from worry
by injuring her taste buds. She certainly wouldn’t miss the food or the
constant boredom. She wished there was a way to contact
Brax
.
Would he leave everything to run away with me? Does he love me enough to do
that?

She knew there was no way to get a message to him. If by
some miracle they let her use the phone, it would certainly be a conversation
someone other than she and
Brax
were privy to. Unless
he snuck in her room right now, she had no way of telling him what was
happening. Deep down, she worried the news that her child was a girl had made
him give up, and he was already trying to accept their doom.

Even if she was guaranteed she could stay with
Brax
, she’d eventually lose her child. For the baby’s sake,
she knew she had to go with her father and flee to Canada. She was still unsure
about his story. It seemed strangely convenient he’d show up after all this
time, but her options were to trust him or trust her government, which had
already wronged her at every turn. She picked daddy dearest.
Father.
Dad.
Daddy.
She wasn’t even
sure what to call the man, so she settled for Todd. Mr.
Damiani
seemed too formal and Dad didn’t feel right yet.

She’d lost so much. Thinking about her unnecessarily sad
childhood while dealing with pregnancy hormones brought tears quickly to her
eyes. She grabbed a tissue and wiped her face quickly. Krista lay back, closing
her eyes. If she slept now, she’d be alert during her upcoming adventures in
prison break. Sleep sucked her down without much trouble as her tumultuous
emotions begged for respite.

The clatter of metal against metal caused her to gasp; she
sat up and blinked at the nurse who set her dinner down. She knew she’d slept
at least four hours and felt satisfied she’d be her best for later. She didn’t
look under the cover, whatever it was smelled so bad she gagged.

“Could I have a book?” she asked the nurse.

“I’ll check with your doctor,” he replied.

“For a book?”
She laughed darkly.
“What do you think I’m going to do, paper cut
myself
to death?”

“I’ll check. I doubt there’ll be a problem. If the doctor
approves, I’ll bring the library cart in.”

He left the room. A minute stretched into an hour, no book.
Krista blew the bangs out of her face in disgust. They’d confiscated her
overnight bag, and now they wouldn’t give her a book. This place was worse than
maximum-security prison; at least there they allowed you to read.

She laid her head back and gazed up at the clock. Six more
hours and she’d have a chance to be free, really free. She didn’t know exactly
what it would be like living in Canada, but she’d seen it touted on the
internet as the closest thing to life before plague times. She tried to imagine
living each day as she wanted. She rubbed her large belly. What would it be
like for her child to live in a world where she could dream? A small smile
touched her lips. For the first time, she let herself imagine her daughter as a
woman. Would she appreciate her choice, or long for the father she’d never
know? Guilt pierced Krista. She was taking one choice away from both the baby
and
Brax
, but the odds that the authorities wouldn’t
ultimately take it anyway outweighed the odds that they’d be a family. She just
hoped he’d understand, if not now, then someday. Her heart broke. She already
missed him.

Whatever happened, she was getting away. Trusting the
stranger who claimed to be her long-lost father was dangerous, but she was out
of options. Deep down, she knew staying would be worse than leaving. Taking a
deep breath, she watched the seconds ticking away on the large, plain wall
clock. There was no color in the room, no art, nothing but that damn clock. She
felt as if time was taunting her. Krista let herself cry, sobbing until there was
nothing left inside of her but determination.

She might have dozed. The sound of the door startled her.
The dim light behind the bed illuminated a large laundry cart and the form of a
tall man. “It’s just me,” whispered her father. Krista let go of the breath
she’d been holding unconsciously. “I turned off your room’s alerts at the
nurse’s station. Do you want me to take the IV out for you?” he asked.

“No, I’ve got it,” Krista mumbled, still groggy, but now filled
with adrenaline. She peeled the tape painfully off her sore arm and slowly
pulled the needle out. Grabbing a few tissues, she pressed them against her
bleeding arm.

“Ready?”

“Definitely,” she replied. He helped her get into the large
bin of towels; she refused to think about how they might’ve been used.

“Don’t worry, they’re clean,” he whispered.

She chuckled, even with everything that could go wrong and
destroy her only chance of
escape,
she gave into the
stress-induced, inappropriate amusement. Krista gave her father one last look
before sinking down lower. The suffocating, buried alive feeling was
uncomfortable, but she’d suffer through anything to know her daughter wouldn’t
grow up to be “Given” or worse, used in some sort of freaky breeding program.
She had a feeling the other quads would follow the example the Northeast was
setting. Shivering, even in the stifling embrace of the freshly laundered
towels, she tried not to imagine what would happen if they didn’t make it.

The cart moved at a steady pace. She felt relieved until it
paused. She heard her father and another man talking, but the words sounded
muffled due to all the cotton over her head. She held her breath and closed her
eyes. When the cart began moving again, she sighed with relief. It stopped
again. She wanted to peek so badly, the nagging curiosity was almost
overwhelming. Then she heard the distinctive
ding
of an elevator and the
cart moved a few feet before stopping again. She felt the elevator moving. The
sensation was odd, as she was lying on her back. The weight of the baby on her
bladder made her feel as if she needed to pee, which was certainly not helping
the general discomfort of her awkward position. She’d happily accept all the
discomfort in the world if she knew they’d make it out of the country safely.

The cart rolled again. Wherever they were, it was very
noisy. She tried to stay as still as possible, to the point she refused to
scratch her nose when a fray from one of the towels tickled her. She realized a
cough or movement could ruin everything. Krista squeezed her eyes closed and
focused on taking even, shallow breaths. Then she heard the
swish
of
electric doors. The heat ebbed and she realized they were outside in the winter
air. Elation spiked inside of her, they’d made it. She heard a door slam and
then her father reached in to help her out of the bin. Someone pulled her into
the side door of a large, white van. She heard sirens.