His breath rushed out with equal parts fear and relief.
Abby responded from right beside him. “That you, Sammy?”
“You come to get me?”
“Yes. Come on. Let’s go.”
“Don’t wanna leave without my friends.”
Oh God, why did he have to say that? Why did he force this into a choice that they couldn’t possibly make?
There must be adults in here, right? Watching over all these children?Mon Dieu, how many of them were there, right now, hearing this conversation?
As his eyes adjusted, he barely made out a row of cots or pallets or mattresses, one after another, after another. What looked like cribs lined the far wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he didn’t know about this.
Babies.
He’d just opened his mouth to whisper that it was time to go when a voice cut in.
“Who’s there?” A woman.
“It’s Abby, Brigid,” said Abby. “Just here to get Sammy, and then I’m leaving.”
“Abigail?You ain’t takin’ nobody. I’m callin’ Isaiah and—”
“He’s sick, Brigid. You heard me tell Mama. You know he’ll—”
The woman made a strange, frantic sound.
Someone snuffled on the other side of the room, and another kid coughed. Abby whispered again, “It’s his only chance.”
Luc came up against something and stiffened. A person, who let out a bleat of a sound, and after a beat or two, he recognized it as Sammy. “Sammy, it’s Luc,” he whispered as quietly as he could.
“Who else’s here?” came the other woman’s voice, louder now.
“I brought a friend. To help.”
Harsh breathing told him where Brigid stood, and Luc wondered if he needed to subdue her. In the meantime, she spoke again, something different in her voice. “Take Jeremiah, too.” The words were electric, stopping them all in their tracks.
“What?” breathed Abby.
“Take him,” the woman said. “I won’t tell.”
Luc’s skin pebbled over with goose bumps. This whole thing was so wrong.
“We can’t take your baby, Brigid. He’d—”
“Just do it. Or I scream.” A rustling sound and footsteps, then she went on. “Here. He needs to see a doctor. And vaccinations. I want him to have those. You can”—she cleared a clogged-sounding throat—“you can say he’s yours.”
“No, I—”
“I’mbeggin’ you.Please.” The last word came out more like a wail, and Luc cut in.
“Take the child, Abby,” he said, grabbing Sammy’s hand and pulling him toward the door.
A noise came from outside. A man’s voice, yelling, followed by another and the loud crunch of footsteps in the snow.
“Let’s go,” he said again, moving fast until he was stopped, midstep, by Brigid’s voice.
