Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
TEVENNE – ADMINISTRATION BUILDING / RIDGELINE
The storm returned like something alive. Wind slammed across the ridge hard enough to bend the trees nearly flat. Rain tore sideways across the hillside, and the ocean below roared as the surge climbed higher around the island.
Ford stood in the doorway of the administration building, rain striking his face as he watched the last inflatable fighting the current beneath the stone wall. The ladder hung over the edge. Below it, the boat bucked violently in the surge.
Inside the inflatable were Rourke, two island patrol officers, and two crewmen holding the craft steady with bursts of throttle and shouted commands. Above them, the last group waited in the hallway behind him: five pregnant women and one nurse.
“Alright,” Ford said over the wind, “we move one at a time.”
The women nodded, frightened but steady. He guided the first woman toward the doorway. The wind hit them immediately as he helped her down the ladder.
“Easy!” Rourke shouted from below as the inflatable slammed against the wall.
“Got her!” one of the patrol officers yelled as they pulled the first woman into the boat.
Ford hauled the ladder back into place. “Next!”
The second woman climbed down. Then the third. Then the fourth.
Each time, the inflatable lurched violently as waves slammed it against the flooded wall. Rourke grabbed each woman as Ford lowered them down.
“Hurry!” the pilot shouted.
Ford turned to the last woman standing. “Your turn.”
She nodded and stepped forward. Suddenly, she gasped. Her hand shot to her abdomen. “Oh…!” She dropped to her knees on the wet floor. A gush of fluid spread across the tile.
Ford froze for half a second.
Her water had broken, and it was green-tinged. She cried out again, clutching his arm.
Ford knelt quickly, helped her lie back, and checked her. His stomach dropped. The baby’s head was already visible. Crowning.
He looked toward the ladder. Impossible. If they tried lowering her down during a contraction, they would lose her. Or the baby. Or both. And the baby is already in distress. He’d seen what happened on the Kasavoan dock. He wasn’t going to have a repeat.
“What’s your name?” he asked quickly.
“Nadya,” she gasped.
“Nadya, listen to me.” Another contraction hit, and she cried out again.
Ford grabbed the nearest mattress from the hallway and dragged it closer to the interior wall. He helped her onto it. “Okay. Stay right here.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m getting the others out.” He squeezed her shoulder once. “I’ll be back.”
Ford stood and grabbed the nurse. “You’re going now.”
“No.”
“That’s not a suggestion.” He pushed her toward the ladder.
Below them, Rourke looked up. “Last one?”
Ford shook his head. “Patient’s crowning. Meconium delivery.”
Rourke blinked. “Shit.”
“You know she can’t move.”
Another gust slammed the building. The inflatable lurched sideways.
Ford’s voice hardened. “Take the nurse.”
Rourke hesitated. “Ford…”
“GO.”
The nurse climbed down the ladder. The patrol officers pulled her into the inflatable.
Ford leaned over the wall. “The storm’s getting worse by the minute.”
Rourke looked up at him. “Ford…”
“GO!”
The pilot gunned the throttle, and the inflatable pushed away from the wall. For a moment, it looked like they might make it. A massive surge rolled up the flooded channel, hitting the inflatable broadside. The boat flipped instantly.
Ford’s stomach dropped. “NO!”
The craft rolled completely upside down, throwing everyone into the black water. Without thinking, Ford vaulted the wall. He hit the freezing surge hard and fought toward the surface.
Rourke was already there.
“Grab them!” Ford coughed out.
The two island patrol officers dragged one of the pregnant women toward the overturned hull. Another woman struggled against the current.
Ford reached another and shoved her toward Rourke. “Take her!”
Rourke hauled her over to the side as the crew fought to right the inflatable. “Again!” someone shouted.
The patrol officers heaved the boat upright. The pilot climbed in and yanked the starter cord. The engine sputtered. Water churned around them as they pulled the last women into the boat.
“Motor!” The engine coughed once, then roared to life.
Rourke grabbed Ford’s arm. “Get in! I’ll go back.”
Ford shook his head. “We’ll be fine. Just go!” He wrenched free and shoved the boat away.
The inflatable swung into the current. Before Rourke could react, Ford turned and dove back into the swirling water. He fought through the surge toward the flooded wall.
Ford hauled himself over the south wall and dropped back onto the flooded patio. For a second, he stood there in the rain, knee-deep in water, watching the boat leave. With a shuddering breath, he moved toward the administration building entrance, where water lapped six inches below the threshold.
The storm did not ease. If anything, it grew louder.
Wind howled through the shattered window and the broken doorframe, driving rain across the hallway floor.
Water crept slowly across the tile, pooling around the legs of the overturned chairs and empty plastic bins they used to carry newborns down to the boats.
The lantern beside Ford flickered violently. The woman on the mattress screamed again as another contraction tore through her.
Ford knelt beside her, soaked and breathing hard. “Alright, Nadya,” he forced calm into his voice, “you’re doing exactly what you need to do.”
He glanced toward the doorway briefly. The inflatable’s engine sound had vanished completely into the storm. They made it. At least that was what he told himself.
Another contraction hit, and Nadya clutched his arm. “I can’t…”
“You can,” Ford said firmly. “You already are.”
Outside, the wind suddenly shifted direction again, and the building groaned. Ford looked up. The trees above the ridge bent sharply.
A loud crack echoed across the area. Not thunder. Something breaking.
Ford barely had time to register it before a massive limb tore loose from one of the trees uphill. It crashed into the roofline of the administration building with explosive force.
The entire structure shuddered. Wood splintered. The limb punched through the outer wall and smashed through the already shattered window.
Glass and debris blasted across the room. Ford instinctively turned to shield Nadya. The impact caught him across the side. Hard.
The jagged end of the branch drove into his ribs and shoulder, knocking him sideways into the wall. Pain exploded through his chest. For a second, the world went silent as he hit the floor with a thud. Rain poured through the broken window.
Nadya screamed, not in pain but for him, “Ford!”
He sucked in a breath and almost blacked out.
His side burned. He looked down to find warm blood soaking through his shirt.
Lifting it, he discovered a long gash running across his ribs—not deep enough to kill him immediately but bad enough that every breath felt like he was breathing in broken glass.
When Nadya cried out with another contraction, he forced himself onto his elbows. “Okay,” he rasped and dragged himself back toward the mattress, leaving a smear of blood across the floor. “You’re okay.” His voice had lost some of its strength.
The lantern flickered beside them as wind screamed through the broken building. Water continued creeping across the floor.
Ford braced himself against the mattress and checked her again. The baby was coming fast now. “Alright,” he said through clenched teeth. “We’re doing this.”
Another contraction.
“Push.”
She cried out. Ford held her steady with one arm, the other pressed tightly against his bleeding ribs. Outside, the storm battered the island, but he refused to stop.
Minutes passed. He didn’t remember grabbing a delivery kit.
Nadya screamed again. Suddenly, there was a cry. Small, thin, but unmistakable.
Ford exhaled in relief as he managed to suction the airway. “Hey there,” he whispered, lifting the tiny newborn boy carefully. He wrapped the infant quickly in a receiving blanket and laid the baby against the mother’s chest. “Nadya, you did it.”
She sobbed softly, clutching the child. Ford leaned back against the wall. His breathing was shallow now.
The lantern light flickered, catching on the blood spreading across his shirt. The island was completely empty—except for three lives inside a broken building trying to outlast the storm.
KASAVOA – HARBOR
The harbor was a blur of rain and floodlights.
Winds pushed across the water in long gusts, sending white spray over the breakwater.
The patrol crews cleared the dock twice already as waves rolled through the harbor entrance, but the medical teams refused to leave. They waited, watching the dark channel.
Eira stood near the edge of Dock 2, arms folded tightly against the cold rain. Behind her, the neonatal teams already rushed the babies toward the clinic. Portable incubators disappeared through the doors minutes earlier.
Someone shouted from the harbor tower, “Boat coming in!”
Every head turned as the faint roar of an engine grew out of the darkness beyond the breakwater.
Floodlights swung toward the harbor channel.
Through the spray and gray water, the patrol cutter appeared first, its bow rising and slamming down as it forced its way through the swells from the worsening storm.
The pilot pushed the throttles hard. The cutter surged through the harbor entrance, spray exploding along both sides of the hull as it cut toward the dock.
“Cutter inbound!” someone shouted.
Eira stepped forward as the vessel swung toward Dock 2. The engines throttled down just enough to bring the heavy boat alongside. The hull bumped the rubber fenders with a heavy thud.
“Lines!”
Ropes flew from the deck. A patrol officer grabbed the first line and wrapped it quickly around the dock cleat.