“You’re not a doctor,” Jude pointed out. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that the two of them were still in public and anyone could walk by and see them at any moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Al’s arms were the only safe space for him, and he wasn’t eager to give that up for something as meaningless as his dignity. “What if something goes wrong? I can’t go to the hospital. They’ll send me to wherever it is they sent your ship. They’ll lock me up and do experiments on me. God knows what they’ll do to the eggs.”
“No one will cause harm to you or our offspring, and there will be no unexpected complications,” Al said with so much conviction that Jude was inclined to believe him. But he knew it wasn’t that simple. Inside his body, which had become foreign to him over the last month especially, he could feel the subtle preparations happening for birth. With every new contraction, the eggs shifted farther down. Pretty soon he was going to be powerless to stop them from coming, and Jude knew in his gut that it wasn’t going to be a pretty process. If something went sideways, he was going to be well and truly fucked, no matter what Al said to the contrary.
There was just so much he didn’t know.
But what he knew for certain was that he didn’t want whatever was going to happen to happen here, in an empty parking lot on the university campus.
“We need to go,” Jude muttered against Al’s chest. “I need to go home.”
Al kissed the top of his head sweetly. “Yes,” he said. “I agree.”
Jude, feeling far too vulnerable to fight anymore, let Al buckle him into his seat. It was only five miles. Five miles on quiet, residential roads. Al probably wouldn’t get them killed. And if he did, at least Jude would go out in a totally acceptable, normal human way instead of from complications while giving birth.
Still, he watched somewhat apprehensively as Al buckled his own seat belt and adjusted the sideview mirrors. Nodding, evidently satisfied with how he’d set everything up, he stuck the key in the ignition and turned the engine over, making it roar to life. The whole car vibrated with the thrum of it.
Until suddenly, it didn’t.
From somewhere deep in the car’s innards, there came an ominous crunching sound and the once proud engine sputtered and died.
Al frowned and tried a few more times to get the car to turn back on, but it was no good. The engine would not start.
Defeated, Al looked over to Jude. “So, there isoneunexpected complication.”
Jude groaned.
His dreams of escaping this life through means of dramatic, fiery car crash were officially off the table.
* * *
“Hi, this is Ezra. I don’t really answer my phone, but you can leave a voicemail. I don’t really check those either, but it’s up to you. Probably just text me. Deuces.”
There was a beep, and Jude angrily hit “end call” on his fourth attempt to reach Ezra, saying, “Why can’t this motherfucker answer his goddamn phone?”
“It is daytime hours currently,” Al pointed out. “Ezra often goes unconscious at this time, like a Sand Dweller, or an owl.”
“Goddammit.” Jude dropped his phone into his lap and leaned forward to rest his head on the glove box. “This issostupid,” he mumbled. “I am going to give birth to eggs in the campus parking lot and become an urban legend, and I amnotequipped to deal with that right now. I need to go home.”
“There is still the option of the bus.”
“No,” Jude said sharply, popping back up. He could feel an indentation on his forehead where the glove box had dug into his skin. “I can’t take the bus, or call an Uber, or anything that risks me having contractions in front of a stranger. What if the eggs start to come when they’re around? How long is labor supposed to last, anyway?”
“In stupid Earth measurements?” Al considered it. “Between three and sixty-seven hours.”
“Oh good, that’s great. Love how that narrows it down.”
“Are you using sarcasm?”
“OfcourseI’m using sarcasm,” Jude snapped. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all.” A pain hit him and he curled into himself, moaning, “God, it’s getting worse. I need to get homeright now.”
Al paused. “If Ezra is not able to provide us with transportation, then perhaps you could call your human friend Corbin?”
“Pfft, no. Nope, no way in hell. At least with Ezra, I could brush any weirdness on my part off by telling him he’s hallucinating from taking too many edibles or something, but there’s no way I could trick Corbin. The second he spots something weird, he’ll start asking questions, and he won’t give up until I cave. There’s no way I’d be able to hide the truth from him.”
“Why would this be a necessity?”
“Um, because he would freak the fuck out?”
“Ezra is aware of the situation and has not ‘freaked the fuck out,’” Al said, as if this was common knowledge, which it very much wasnot.
