Embryo

It was Thursday, October 10th, 2024. It was only 5:30 and already about dark, a gloomy evening even for Autumn nights. There was a chill in the air. You could hear leaves rustling through the backyard as the wind blew.

"Can't come 2nite, sry." Scott sent a quick text to Cam—his colleague from work.

"There's a storm coming," Scott yelled to Raquel from their bedroom as he placed his phone face down on the end table.

He was sitting up on the bed, wearing nothing more than his green and blue plaid boxers, enjoying the latest issue from Parents magazine. He had gotten home early—an occasion that occurred maybe once or twice a year.

He flipped the page. "Now, see this...promise me we won't be one of these parents." He got up and walked into the master bathroom where he would discover his wife of ten years in front of the mirror, posing to the side while cupping her belly with her hands.

He smiled when he noticed. Then, he hugged her from behind while holding the magazine in front of her. "Look at this kid. Ha! It's absolutely ridiculous to dress this kid like Al Pacino."

Raquel laughed. "Aww, I think he's cute." She stood there staring at the page, smiling and enjoying her husband's embrace.

Thump!

"What was that!" Raquel was startled by the sound of something falling outside their bathroom window.

"The wind probably just knocked over one of our potted plants...I'll check it out later." Scott placed the magazine on the bathroom counter. He slowly turned her around, lightly gripping her waist. He looked her in her eyes. "I love you." He spoke with conviction and confidence. Then, he got down on his knees and kissed her belly through her old dark green tank top. "And I love you, baby girl."

"Girl? How do you know?" Raquel couldn't contain her smile.

"I don't...I was just guessing," Scott replied right before kissing her on the lips. "Do I tell you how beautiful you are enough?"

She laughed. "No...absolutely not. You definitely don't tell me how beautiful I am." She chuckled and turned back towards the mirror, admiring her underdeveloped belly.

"Funny," he replied while hugging her from behind again, admiring the view of them in the mirror together. "When are you coming to bed?"

"Just a minute, baby." She turned and kissed him more passionately than they had kissed before. "Te amo. Eres el amor de mi vida...Eres mi hogar."

Scott smiled. "Okay." He grabbed the magazine off of the counter and walked back to their bed.

"But I bet you it's a boy! Taryn thinks so!" Raquel yelled, giggling as she removed her makeup remover wipes from the vanity drawer.

She had started taking longer in the bathroom ever since they found out they were expecting just a week before. She had been modeling for over fifteen years, and she was concerned about stretch marks and scars, especially at her age.

“And when will I meet this Taryn?” Scott chuckled.

Scott waited patiently in their bed, smirking. He knew she was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious, but he thought it was cute. He could hear the water running. That was his cue. He quickly threw rose pedals on the bed. He knew she'd be out soon. He turned on the TV and loaded up her favorite rom-com, Old Fashioned. "I'll get the popcorn, dear!" He got up and headed towards the kitchen. He had planned a romantic evening, and he would bring chocolate-covered strawberries, sparkling cider, and whipped cream back to the bedroom as a surprise. He'd also bring foot massage oil.

He walked quickly, excited about how he thought the night would end.

Pow pow! Crash! Pow! Thud. Pow!

Scott threw himself to the ground, dropping his well-arranged tray of goodies. His natural instincts kicked in without thought. He lied there, frantically shaking, covering his head with his arms.

"Raquel!" He let out an echoing shout that rumbled the walls.

He got up, ran to the bathroom, terrified of what he might see. Immediately, as he stepped around the corner of the bathroom door, there his wife laid.

Cough. Cough. Raquel laid there gurgling, choking on her own blood.

"Raquel, baby." He cried. "How did this...why did this...where does it hurt baby?" He sobbed profusely. "Baby...noooo...stay with me!"

"Alexa, call 911!" He yelled to his Amazon Echo speaker hanging in the bathroom.

By then, a crowd of neighbors had formed outside, and multiple calls for help had been made.

"Stay with me baby." He propped her head up on his thighs, caressing her head with his fingers. "Help is coming... you're going to be okay...you're going to be okay...you're both going to be okay." He continued to repeat the same thing over and over until the ambulance arrived. He had Alexa unlock his smart locks and waited frantically.

There was so much blood. Broken glass from the bathroom scattered all over the floor. Three holes in different areas of the wall. He had no idea how many times she had been shot or where.

"Who would want to do something like this to her?" He thought to himself as the approaching sirens got closer.

"We're back here!" You could hear his voice cracking as he pushed his vocal cords beyond their limits.

Paramedics rushed in. They quickly checked her pulse.

"I've got a pulse!" One of them yelled, fingers pressed against Raquel's wrist.

Two paramedics, Jack and Alison, quickly placed Raquel on the stretcher, while one female paramedic, Nikki, began asking questions.

Scott quickly threw on his dress shirt and slacks that he had worn earlier that day. He nearly slipped trying to force his loafers on while standing in the middle of the bedroom.

"Name?" Nikki said, hoping to distract Scott as they prepped to push Raquel outside to the truck.

"I'm Scott Jenison. This is my wife, Raquel Jenison. Is she gonna be okay!" Scott spoke fast and hysterically.

"Sir, just calm down." Nikki placed her hand on his shoulder and looked him firmly in the eye. "We're going to do everything we can for her."

By then, they were sliding the stretcher into the truck.

“I’m riding!” Scott shouted, refusing to let them pull off without him.

He and Nikki bolted toward the ambulance. Scott climbed inside, dropping onto the bench across from Jack as Raquel’s body lay strapped between them. Nikki sprinted around to the front passenger seat.

Scott texted an old doctor friend: "MEET ME @ THE ER IN OAKLEY RICHLANDS MED!!!!"

"Sir, could you tell me your wife's date of birth?" Jack said quickly as he typed rapidly into the intake tablet.

“Two-twenty-five-nineteen-ninety!” Scott’s voice cracked. "Please, tell me she's going to be alright!"

“BP’s sixty-five and falling fast,” Jack snapped. “Alison, step on it!”

He tore open an IV kit, spiked a saline bag, and hung it from the hook above Raquel’s head. “I’ve got a line—wide open, one liter normal saline, push it!”

Alison’s voice came sharp from the driver’s seat: “Copy, fluids wide open.”

Jack pressed a syringe into Raquel’s IV port. “She’s in hypovolemic shock. Stay with me, Raquel. Come on, stay with me.”

The monitor above Raquel's head gave one long, steady beep, then stuttered into an erratic rhythm.

The driver floored it, sirens splitting the night.

The monitor screamed again, flat tones colliding with jagged beeps. Jack’s face tightened. “V-fib! Alison, step on it—we’re losing her!” He slapped pads against Raquel’s chest. “Charging to 200!”

Scott pressed himself back against the wall, his heart pounding in sync with the rising whine of the defibrillator.

His heart pounded even faster as they pulled into the ambulance entrance of the ER.

The ambulance screeched to a halt. The doors burst open, and a flood of fluorescent light blinded Scott as Raquel was rushed down a corridor.

“Pregnant female, G1, P0, approximately five weeks, gunshot trauma, massive blood loss!” Jack shouted as they slammed through swinging double doors into the trauma bay.

A dozen hands swarmed her. Oxygen hissed, compressions pounded into her chest, needles pierced skin.

“Push one of epi!”

“Bag her—two breaths!”

“Check that line—wide open fluids!”

Scott stumbled into the corner, fists pressed to his mouth. “She’s pregnant! Do you hear me? Don’t let her die—she’s pregnant!”

The monitor flatlined again. A nurse called out the numbers in a clipped voice: “Time of arrest—nineteen forty-seven.”

“Keep going!” Scott roared. “You can save her! Save them both!”

Dr. Hightower shook his head grimly. “If we can save one, save the mother.”

Scott lurched forward, eyes blazing. “Please!"

"Sir, please!" One of the nurses yelled while nodding at the nearby CNA, signaling her to handle Scott.

Scott stood there, frozen, holding his breath.

"Sir, I'm Rhonda. Let's get you-"

"No! I have to..." Scott tried pushing past Rhonda, trying to regain sight of Raquel.

"Sir, we need to take a look at your head!" Rhonda yelled sternly, stepping further in front of him.

"Fine!" Scott left out of the room, swinging the doors open forcefully. He stormed out, throwing his fist first straight into the wall. "Ahhhh!" He let out an enraged scream, temporarily provoking silence in the halls.

"Sir, please. I promise they are doing everything they can for her." Rhonda wrapped her arm around him, gently nudging him towards the nearby bench. "Please, let us take a look at your head. You're cut pretty badly."

Scott placed his fingers on his head, realizing it wasn't only Raquel’s blood on his shirt. He slowed down his breathing and sat down.

Rhonda began blotting his forehead. "Quite a nasty cut you have here. Hold still...I'm just going to make sure there's no glass."

“Scott.” The voice came from down the hall. It was Dr. Sam Roche, the one Scott had texted from the ambulance. His coat was half-buttoned, eyes wide with disbelief. He had arrived just in time for what would follow.

Almost simultaneously, Dr. Hightower came heading down the hall from the opposite direction, meeting Scott in the hallway as he was standing to greet Sam.

"Mr. Jenison—Dr. Hightower, Trauma Surgeon on call." He stated while attempting to shake Scott's hand, keeping his eyes locked on Scott. "Your wife lost a lot of blood. We intubated her in the bay and sedated her for airway protection. We’ve given two units of packed red blood cells and started a crystalloid bolus; she’s on a norepinephrine drip to support her blood pressure. We placed an arterial line and central venous access for monitoring and medication. Right now she’s ventilated and on full life-support in the ICU. Her vitals are more stable than when she arrived, but this is a guarded situation...we need to watch her overnight and see how she responds to resuscitation and transfusion.”

Scott swallowed. “Can you…can you still hear the baby?”

Dr. Hightower's pager began beeping loudly. “We’re monitoring fetal cardiac activity as best we can. It’s early, so viability is uncertain; our priority is to support Mom. That gives the baby the best chance.”

"Can I see her?" Scott asked as tears filled his eyes.

Dr. Hightower checked his pager. Then, he began speaking a bit quicker. "Rhonda will take you to her room right away. I'm sorry. The nurses will page me if you have any further questions." He said as he ran off.

Rhonda led Scott to the ICU as Sam followed. The lights made Scott's head throb. The tears in his eyes allowed each light fixture to interrupt his vision with starbursts. Scott knew that the doctors weren't hopeful.

They reached Raquel’s area. Her body lying there still as if she was already gone. The sight of all of the machines she was hooked up to and the tubing down her throat was unbearable for Scott.

"Oh, God." Scott began to sob. "Look at my baby." He caressed her hair as he crouched over her. His knees buckled, barely supporting his weight.

Sam was in shock. He walked deeper into the room. He stood there with his mouth wide open as he pulled off his hat. "Scott...I'm so sorry brother."

Scott stumbled toward him, gripping his sleeve with both fists. “Sam, don’t let them take her. Help me. Help me take her home. I can keep her alive. I know I can.”

Sam’s face hardened. “Scott, you don't know what you're saying right now, buddy. Even if you keep her body alive, the risks—Scott, it’s insane."

Scott looked Sam in the eye, keeping a straight face.

Sam stepped back, noticing the seriousness in Scott's eyes. "I won't! It’s illegal. And the baby—she’ll need more than this body can give.”

“I don’t care!” Scott’s voice shredded. “You owe me, Sam."

Sam placed his hands on his head. "I don't believe you, Scott. I-I-I can't."

Scott began to whisper forcefully, roughing Sam up a bit. "Remember those debts? Those lawsuits? Huh! I buried them for you. Now it’s your turn.”

Sam's eyes opened wide, in disbelief of what he was hearing. "You're out of your mind."

Scott let Sam go. "Then, be out of your mind with me."

Scott was desperate. He saw how pale his wife looked. How much blood she had lost. How lifeless the room felt. He believed that she was gone...but he would stop at nothing to keep his unborn child alive.

Scott spent the entire night devising a plan, calling old friends he felt owed him, and reviewing his resources. He shared the plan with Sam, and they had Raquel transported out of the hospital by two in the morning. An old colleague of Sam's had private air support connections. They used his connect to pretend Scott was having Raquel transferred to a prestigious hospital. But instead, she was airlifted to Sam's private office and then transported to Scott's residence overnight. Scott stayed up all night, overseeing the details, making sure that nothing got in the way of his plans.

Machines hummed in Scott’s living room, their steady rhythm unnatural against the quiet of the house. Machines illuminated their polished floors in green, creating green silhouettes against the walls. Raquel lay motionless on the dining-table-turned-hospital-bed, her skin pale, chest rising only with the help of oxygen.

Sam adjusted the IV, eyes grim. “We still have a heartbeat. The baby’s alive. But this won’t last. The fetus needs nutrients, circulation. The risk of infection, organ failure—it’s astronomical. Scott, this isn’t saving them. It’s torture.”

Scott’s voice was cold steel. “Make it work. Or I’ll make sure every skeleton in your closet comes out.”

Sam exhaled hard, threw down his gloves, and walked to the porch, leaving Scott alone.

Scott sank into the chair beside Raquel, his hand trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. For a fleeting second, he saw her as she had been just hours earlier—smiling, teasing him, whispering in Spanish as they shared a kiss.

He bent close, pressing his forehead to hers. His voice was barely a breath.

"Te amo. Eres el amor de mi vida...Eres mi hogar."

The words broke him. Because this house wasn’t home anymore. Not without her.