She struggled down the hallway with jerky, furtive movements. Her pulse was so loud, like a timpani keeping count, as she tried to remember the way out of the clinic, but the sound of footsteps approaching had her grabbing for the nearest doorknob and ducking into a room. She closed the door and locked it and rested her forehead against the cool metal.
Please,she prayed.Please let me live.
—
GEORGE GLANCED DOWN AT THEredheaded nurse, who flinched.
He would have killed her. He could have killed her, to get to the doctor. Except, if he killed her, he would also be killing her baby.
Which would make him no better than the asshole bleeding out on the floor.
Frustrated, he looked away and took note for the first time of his surroundings. The procedure room. Had this been where Lil was? Had she been scared? Crying?
Had it hurt?
He had only met one woman who had ever gotten an abortion. Alice belonged to their church and she and her husband had just found out that they were going to have a baby when she learned she had lymphoma. The congregation had prayed hard, but that hadn’t stopped the advanced cancer diagnosis and the medical necessity to have surgery and start chemo. Pastor Mike had told her that God would understand if she terminated the pregnancy, and it was proven true a year later when she was cancer free and pregnant again.
George remembered how once, he had come into the church early one morning during the week to find Alice, now healthy and eight months pregnant, sitting in a pew and sobbing her heart out. He had never been one for crying women, so he passed her his handkerchief and shifted uncomfortably. “Can I get the pastor for you?” he’d asked.
She’d shaken her head. “Maybe just sit with me?”
It was the last thing George wanted to do, but he lowered himself into the pew. He glanced at her belly. “Guess it won’t be long now.”
Alice started to cry, and he fell all over himself to apologize. “I know it’s a blessing,” she sobbed, “but it’s not a replacement.”
Two,George realized now.
He knewtwowomen who had had abortions.
—
IZZY COWERED AS THE GUNMANturned to her, abruptly, and dragged her to her feet. A bolt of pain shot through her arm. “Who else is here? he demanded, his breath hot on her face. “How many people?”
“I-I don’t know,” Izzy stammered.
He gave her a hard shake. “Think, dammit!”
“I don’t know!” She felt like she was made of sawdust.
“Answer me!” he ordered, waving his gun in her face.
He wrenched her arm again, and tears came to her eyes. “This is everyone!” she burst out.
Just like that, he let go of her. She stumbled, managing at the last moment to not fall on top of the doctor’s wounded leg. She lay on her side, her eyes shut tight, waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Any minute now, she would. Parker would be shaking her shoulder, telling her she’d been making sounds in her sleep, and she would sit up and say,I had the most horrible dream.
The shooter sank to his knees. He rubbed the barrel of his gun against his temple as if he had an itch, and this was an extension of his finger. Then he lowered the pistol and stared at it as if he was wondering how the hell it got into his hands.
Could she rush him, right now? Could she grab the gun, and hold it against him?
As if he could hear her thoughts, he leveled the gun at her again. “How can you be pregnant and work here every day and be okay with what happens?”
“Please, you don’t understand—”
“Shut up. Just shut up. I can’t think.” He got up and started to move in a small circle, muttering to himself.
Izzy inched toward the doctor. She could tell from the trickle of blood at his leg that he needed a better tourniquet. She felt his neck for a pulse.
“What are you doing?”
