“I have something for you,” she said. “We all picked it out together.”
She handed me a package wrapped in used paper towels. Inside was a green hoodie, something I had been sleeping on for the past few months.
“Oh, how nice,” I said and smiled too broadly.
Rebecca beamed. “You’re so welcome. You look great in that color.”
“That’s really generous,” I said. “I’ll probably keep it with that stack of hoodies I sleep with every night.”
She beamed and went to get up, but stopped.
“One last thing,” she said. “Maritza is pregnant and her water broke. You should probably do something about that.”
She left. I turned after her. “Wait, what?”
Maritza, as it turned out, was the third wife to join about a week prior and had originally been married to a bank manager months before. The Apocalypse happened while he was on a business trip to Minneapolis and she felt that was that. Then she met Robert during a seminar on productivity outside an abandoned RV where she lived with a gang of teenage girls called the Twerknuts. His message enchanted her so much she said her goodbyes and followed him to Costco where she hid under as many layers as she could to hide the fact she was about to pop. She made for a terrible dancer, especially to any song by Nicki Minaj, but at least it now made sense.
I rushed off to mention it to Robert, who rubbed his chin, trying to hide the look of disgust. He had now reverted to wearing robes with nothing underneath. Sometimes he tied the belt around his waist. Sometimes he didn’t and would let nature do what it wanted.
“What are we supposed to do with that?” he asked. “We can’t have a baby in here.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised this place hasn’t become overrun with desperate, pregnant women already,” I said. “Is there any way we can take medical advice as payment tonight?”
“Nah,” he said. “Be serious.”
“You’re running a business,” I said. “In a time of no jurisdiction. I’ve had to stop eight kidnapping attempts, and spearhead a safer self-defense workshop. I agree. Babies shouldn’t be here, but that’s about to change whether you like it or not.”
“Ask Joaquin,” he said. “Make him do it.”
“That guy is useless,” I said. “Which reminds me, that guy can’t be eating all that processed cheese. He’s going to wipe out the limited plumbing we do have.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” he asked.
“Burn all the dairy products,” I said. “Anything that still exists at this point is going to do nothing but damage to anyone, anyway.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about!” he snapped. “What about Maritza? We can’t have a baby here!” He lowered his voice. “Do you think we should have a baby raffle for our customers?”
I raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and he nodded in agreement.
“So you agree?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said. “Terrible idea.”
“Well, he can’t wait tables now, can he?”
“Look,” I said. “Rebecca was working as a nurse at the quarantine. And you’re telling me she knew absolutely nothing? She did give me a shot of something that surprisingly did not kill me.”
Maritza cried out in labor pains.
He shuddered at the sound. “Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t know a lot about her background.”
“You’re married to her,” I said. “You said you felt like you’d spent ten thousand dates with her.
“Marriage can mean anything these days. And I say a lot of things I don’t mean.”
As it turns out, Rebecca knew next to nothing about Maritza’s condition.
“Isn’t there someone else that can help?” Rebecca asked, emphatically shaking her head. “Babies are cute and all, but I can’t go in there.”
“Her water broke,” I said. “She needs help. You think I know what to do?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll cheer you on, though.”
I had Maritza sit on a checkout stand with a thermometer in her mouth while I dragged Rebecca out of the toy section to see her. When I returned Maritza was crying.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “How are you feeling?”
She squealed, and then gripped my arm with talon-like fingernails.
“I don’t know why you think I know anything,” she said. “All I ever did was be an assistant manager at Sephora. Then the Incident happened and I volunteered to assist the onsite quarantine doctor because I thought it was a good place to meet men. Which it was.”
I was incredulous. “Weren’t there any pregnant women in that quarantine?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t see them if there were.”
I sighed. “How do you feel?” I asked Maritza.
Maritza smiled despite being red faced and straining. “Well,” she gritted her teeth. “It really hurts and I feel like I’m straining to throw out a pot roast.”
Her words then merged into more screams.
She pointed to the lower part of her belly. “I thought I had more time!”
“You’re soooo lucky,” Rebecca said and hoisted herself onto the stand. “I’m dying for Robert and I to start a family. The birth process is so beautiful.”
I incredulously looked at her, which she happily gave me a dirty look. I cleared my throat, putting my hands on my hips to give the impression of being in charge.
“Can you at least give her some space?” I asked.
Reluctantly, they stepped back as Maritza gasped under pressure. Rebecca sulkily slid off the counter.
“Watch her,” I said. “I’ll be looking for help.”
Costco has a book section. I thought perhaps they might have a Birthing for Dummies title, but instead, all I found was different diet books, three of them written by Dr. Phil, several Finding Your Independence books and a multitude of cookbooks. Nothing about childbirth. The book section merged into the movie section, where my eyes stopped on a special anniversary edition of Gone with the Wind. Immediately, I heard one of the characters say, “Mamma says to put a knife under the pillow to cut the pain in two.”
I ran back to where Maritza was still parked, groaning and sweating, while Rebecca now had the thermometer in her mouth while the rest of the women gathered around the scene.
“Okay,” I said. “Now if I remember my movies correctly, we need some hot water and some sheets.”
“Aisle 23,” Rebecca said. “Maybe 24.”
“Can you get them?”
She rolled her eyes.
I leaned forward and jabbed her with my finger. “You’re going to help me or I sell private dances for you in exchange for superhero shirts.”
She grimaced, but moved toward Aisle 23. In the meantime, Maritza grabbed my hand and moaned even louder. The girls gathered closer, realizing what was going on.
“Anyone know anything about this?” I asked. “Anyone want to pitch in?”
They all shook their heads, but started to chatter about every birthing story they knew.
“My friend had a baby that was born C-section and couldn’t breathe at first. It’s fine now, though.”
“My cousin, Beth, took thirty-six hours to have her baby and then it came out black. Her husband is white so that was super awkward.”
“This one girl I knew in college didn’t even know she was pregnant. She went to the bathroom at a rest stop. Next thing you know, she’s got a baby and doesn’t even remember having sex to begin with.”
“Thanks, guys,” I said. “All of this is really helpful.”
Maritza was in full-blown pain. I tried to comfort her while she screamed and helped her breath, but there was very little I could do. Eventually Rebecca returned with the water and two sets of sheets tucked under her arm.
“What took you so long?” I asked. “She’s in a lot of pain.”