Silent Pledge. Hannah Alexander

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      Marla heard Jerod’s tiny baby voice again. She turned toward him on the bed before she even opened her eyes, but a sudden sharp pain caught her in the chest.

      She gasped and grabbed at the spot between her ribs. Her breath came in shallow pockets of air, and she could feel her heart beating faster.

      Fear washed through her. Was she having a heart attack? Was this what it felt like?

      Jerod cried louder. Marla struggled against the pillows and finally pulled herself up.

      About five seconds later the pain went away. Oxygen once more entered her lungs, and the sudden relief washed over her in a powerful wave. What was going on?

      She took a few more deep breaths and reached for her crying baby, but before she could pull him into her arms, the piercing shaft stabbed her again and forced her backward. She cried out from the shock. “God, help!”

      Again the pain subsided and her lungs filled. Was this some weird kind of asthma attack? It didn’t feel like one. And there hadn’t been the usual warning. Still, her inhalers—the ones her doctor gave her for free because she couldn’t afford them—were in the top drawer of her rickety bedside stand. She’d better get them out.

      More carefully this time, she reached toward Jerod. He needed changing before she did anything else. She picked up one of the last three clean diapers, and as she did so, she pressed against the new bruise on her right calf.

      “Ouch!” She couldn’t hear her own voice over the sound of Jerod’s squalling. And she barely caught another breath before the shaft struck her chest again, harder than before. She dropped the diaper on the floor and gasped. The pain grew worse, and the dim room went black for a few seconds.

      But Jerod’s cries brought her back.

      She took shallow breaths, willing her heart to slow its beating. She felt weaker now, and she didn’t have the strength to pick up the diaper. She pulled open the drawer and took out both inhalers. While Jerod continued to cry, she fumbled with the sprays. She could barely concentrate on breathing.

      Someone pounded from the other side of the paper-thin wall at the head of her bed. “Shut that kid up in there!” came a rusty female growl.

      The woman must be a part of that biker gang. Marla wanted to tell her to shut up, but she didn’t have the courage, or the energy.

      Another throb in her leg made her grimace. If she’d worn the stockings they gave her, she would have had some protection.

      She reached down to unfasten Jerod’s dirty diaper when she felt the hit again. This time the pain shocked her like a kitchen knife jutting through her ribs. She nearly fell on top of the baby before she could push herself away. The room grew blacker. In desperation she slid from the bed to the cold, dirty floor and groped for the telephone, but then she remembered that it had been disconnected.

      She had to get help. What if something happened to her? Jerod would be all alone. He could freeze in this room before daylight.

      As the pain once more let up, she glanced toward the thin wall. “Help me!” she called as loudly as breath would allow. “Somebody help me, please!”

      She heard a muffled groan, and again someone pounded on the wall. “Turn off that TV!”

      She closed her eyes in hopeless despair. “No, God, please, don’t let this happen.” With the last of her strength, and the healthy cries of her cheering section, she shoved the inhalers into the pocket of her pajama top, scrambled to the door of the tiny efficiency apartment, unlocked it, and used the threshold to pull herself to her feet.

      That was a big mistake. Everything went black again. She dropped to her knees and pushed the door open and felt the bite of winter wind brace her exposed flesh.

      “Somebody help me!” she called out into the night. “Please!” As she said the last word the pain came again, and her baby’s cries grew softer as she slumped across the front walk.