Prologue
Rebekah cried out in agony from the passenger seat, her eyes tightly clenched and teeth gritted. The sound of harsh, unrelenting rain pinging off the roof of the old car almost drowned out her cries and muted her pain.
Lightning lit up the night sky, highlighting the winding road and blowing trees. The blades on the wipers were old, unable to perform the way they should’ve, making it more difficult to see through the windshield. Nothing was visible in the rearview mirror, only blackness.
“I know, Rebekah. Just a little bit longer. Hold tight, okay?”
Rebekah’s shoulders curled in just as another scream ripped past her lips, piercing the air with her palpable agony. Her forehead pressed against the cold window next to her. Nothing would take away the pain, at least not as fast as she would’ve liked. Her thighs pressed together, her body curling in on itself as much as it could, her arms wrapped protectively around the tightening ball in her stomach.
“Just breathe, Rebekah. In and out. Slow and steady. We have to keep calm.”
“I can’t. It hurts too much.”
More lightning split the sky, quickly followed by crackling thunder that shook the car and rippled through the seats. The storm refused to let up. Bolts of electricity zipped through the dark, leading the way to the hospital, proving to be more helpful than the yellowed headlights glowing through cloudy lenses.
The wet pavement sounded like crumpling tissue paper beneath the tires, water flinging against the undercarriage adding to the cadence of the storm. Constant groans, hiccupping sobs, and timed screams only rounded out the mixtape of terror filling the driver. Her delicate fingers wrapped tighter around the steering wheel, blood draining from the knuckles. Her foot pressed against the pedal with a little more pressure than before. Only one thought in mind: Get her daughter to the hospital before her grandchild was born in the passenger seat of her 1983 Buick LeSabre.
In an instant, the tires spun without resistance, losing traction with the road. Nothing registered to the two women in the car. Seconds seemed to last for minutes, hours, too fast, not long enough to react. Panic wrapped its lethal talons around the older woman’s throat while painful contractions prevented her daughter from recognizing the spinning world around her.
Until the crunch of metal resounded.
Screeching of worn-out brakes.
Glass shattering.
And then there was silence.
Slowly, the world came back into focus, starting with the slapping of wipers as they slammed into place at the base of the windshield, repeatedly. Pellets of rain ricocheted off the car like a deluge of bullets. Rebekah’s whimpers filled the stale air, adding a despondent chord to the ballad created by the storm around them.
Bright blue eyes fluttered open, and a groan of agony was released through barely parted lips. Confusion caused her breathing to speed up, forced her lungs to expand and contract in frantic waves of hysteria. When she reached over and found her daughter’s hand, she linked their fingers together, praying she would be all right. The sky erupted in that eerie silence before the static of pending thunder filled the air. It only lasted a split second, but it was enough to send jolts of fearful anticipation through their veins as they waited for the impending boom.
Over and over again.
They waited in the car, unable to move, powerless to get help, watching the storm take over the town. Each passing minute brought them one step closer to the dark edges of consciousness. If it hadn’t been for the repetitive flashes of white light, they would’ve been bathed in night, cloaked in obsidian hopelessness.
With one final prayer, bursts of color filled the air. Red and white. High-pitched sirens replaced the deep rumbles of thunder—a symphony of promises. The song of terror became a melody of hope.
Of new life.
Of dreams not forgotten.
Help arrived and separated the women briefly, just long enough to transport each one to the hospital where they would both be treated. Rebekah cried out for her mother while her mother fought to stay conscious. She only needed to hold on long enough to make sure everything was okay.
“We don’t have room,” a woman, dressed in green scrubs, complained as they wheeled Rebekah into the emergency room. “The storm has knocked out all the power, so we’re running on the backup generators. Every room is full; we’ll have to park her in the hallway and pray she holds that baby in.” She spoke to the EMT as if Rebekah couldn’t hear. As if she couldn’t understand the words or pick up on her frustration.
With her rolling bed parked along the wall, a young man placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned down. “Someone will be here soon to check your progress. Please give us a few minutes.”
The only thing that kept her calm was the sight of her mother parked next to her. Two nurses busied themselves with hooking a monitor to the side of the bed and placing sticky pads to her mom’s pale skin, ignoring Rebekah’s pleas for information.
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” she cried out, desperate for answers.
Finally, one of the nurses turned and calmly touched Rebekah’s swollen abdomen. “We’re doing all we can, ma’am. The storm has brought in more patients than we have beds. The birthing suites are full, the operating rooms are in use from the numerous car accidents that have come in, and the ER has no room left. That’s why you’re in the hall. We’re really sorry, but we’re doing the best we can.”
“No…my mom.” Tears filled her words while her lip quivered. She didn’t care where she was or how much space they had available. Her primary concern at the moment was her mother. “Is she okay?”
With a gentle smile, the nurse replied, “She seems to be all right for now, but we won’t know anything until she’s been examined by a doctor. We’re getting someone here as soon as we can.”
Her stomach clenched, and she immediately leaned forward, attempting to curl into a ball to alleviate the pain. Her screams echoed in the hall and pierced through the chaos around them. In an instant, several people crowded around her bed, yet Rebekah couldn’t concentrate on any of it.
Intense pressure built between her legs. Her skin broke out in a layer of perspiration, her face flush. Heat traveled through her like the lightning ripping through the sky outside. Each time her stomach hardened with a contraction, a scream tore through her and threatened to steal her voice.
The lights flickered above her.
Panic surrounded the bed.
And a baby was born.
Blue. No voice. No cries.
Silence.
Rebekah sat up and reached for the baby, willing it to make a sound. Any sound. She prayed aloud, begging and pleading to anyone who’d listen. She swore that if she could just hear her baby cry, she’d never complain about the sound. She’d never take the squawks of a newborn for granted.
Commotion.
That’s all it was.
A soft cry, followed by a stronger one.
And an elongated, shrill, steady alarm sounding next to her.
Simultaneously.
As lightning crashed, the circle of life reset.
Chapter One
Drew
I closed the heavy wooden door and turned the key, locking the main office. The day was officially over for me, but for some reason, I wasn’t as excited as I should’ve been. Once again, the overwhelming silence reminded me of how lonely life was at Black Bird Resort.