CHAPTER 2 — THE BLUE BLANKET BEHIND THE HOSPITAL
Emily forgot the stitches.
She forgot the blood loss.
She forgot the doctor's orders not to stand for at least twenty-four hours.
The only thing she remembered was Quincy's terrified whisper.
"She's still alive."
She threw the hospital blanket aside and forced her legs over the edge of the bed.
Pain ripped through her abdomen so violently that black spots danced across her vision.
Quincy caught her arm before she collapsed.
"Please don't go through the front," he whispered. "Grandma's waiting."
Emily froze.
"Waiting?"
He nodded.
"I heard her tell Dad that if you tried to leave, security would stop you."
A chill crawled down Emily's spine.
Why would security stop a grieving mother from leaving the maternity ward?
Unless they were afraid of where she might go.
Quincy reached into the pocket of his oversized hoodie and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I stole this."
It was a handwritten note.
Across the top, in hurried blue ink, were the words:
TRANSFER TO BIOHAZARD DISPOSAL – 11:40 P.M.
Beneath it was a room number Emily had never seen before.
No baby's name.
No medical record.
Only one handwritten letter in the corner.
F.
Emily stared.
"My daughter's name is Faith."
Quincy slowly shook his head.
"I don't think that's what it means."
Before Emily could ask another question, footsteps echoed outside the room.
Margaret's voice.
"...She'll accept God's will eventually."
Another voice answered.
A man.
"If she doesn't?"
Margaret replied without hesitation.
"Then we'll remind her this isn't the first time."
Emily felt every drop of blood drain from her face.
The first time?
She had never given birth before.
Or... had she?
Fragments of strange memories flooded her mind.
Years earlier...
A miscarriage at twelve weeks.
At least, that's what Daniel had told her.
She had awakened in a hospital bed after fainting.
He said the baby had been gone before she arrived.
She had never seen medical records.
Never seen ultrasound photos afterward.
Never questioned him.
Until now.
Quincy tugged on her sleeve.
"They're coming."
He led her through a side exit nurses used for laundry carts.
Cold night air slapped Emily's face.
Rain soaked her hospital gown instantly.
Every step felt like knives cutting through her body.
The hospital grounds were deserted.
Beyond the loading dock stood two large dumpsters marked:
MEDICAL WASTE ONLY.
A maintenance truck idled nearby.
Its headlights illuminated a man wearing blue scrubs.
He looked around nervously before lifting a small bundle from the back of the vehicle.
A blue blanket.
Emily's heart nearly stopped.
The bundle moved.
Not much.
Just enough.
A tiny hand slipped free.
Alive.
"Oh my God..."
She stumbled forward.
The man froze.
He hadn't seen her yet.
He carried the bundle toward the dumpsters but hesitated, looking over his shoulder as though waiting for instructions.
Then another black SUV rolled into the alley.
Margaret stepped out.
Still holding her Bible.
Still perfectly calm.
She handed the man a thick white envelope.
"Finish it," she said quietly.
"No witnesses."
Emily couldn't stop herself.
"FAITH!"
The maintenance worker spun around in shock.
The blue blanket shifted again.
A baby's weak cry pierced the rain.
Margaret's face changed for the first time all night.
Not guilt.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"You weren't supposed to be here," she whispered.
Then, from inside the SUV, another voice spoke.
An elderly woman Emily had never seen before leaned toward the open window.
Her silver eyes locked onto Emily.
And with a smile that made Emily's blood run cold, she said,
May you like
"Don't worry... this family has been burying living babies for three generations."
To Be Continued...
