Page 118 of Halo

Jesus, it's cold. I speed up my pace to a light jog as I cut across the employee parking lot. It's eerily quiet with only a handful of cars scattered—not unusual during the week after Christmas.

Ice blends into the dark pavement, impossible to see unless the light catches it just right. I don't realize I've stepped onto another patch until my boot slips out from under me. I throw out an arm, catching my balance before I bust my ass.

“Fuck.”

I plant my feet more carefully after that, shortening my stride as I head toward the entrance. The last thing I need is to show up for a favor shift with a broken hip.

A sound stops me midstep.

As my boot settles back onto the ground, I turn back toward the rows of cars behind me. A frigid wind cuts through the lot, carrying nothing but the scrape of bare branches and the constant hum of the city.

My hand tightens around the strap of my bag as I peer through the shadows.

But there's nothing.

I pivot, heading back inside when suddenly, I hear it again—louder this time.

A whimper.

“Hello?” I call out into the darkness.

The crying intensifies followed by a ragged gasp.

Someone's in trouble.

I could go inside and grab security, but every second I spend finding someone is another second this person might not have.

“It's alright. I'm a doctor.” My voice echoes. “I want to help you. Can you come out?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I pull out my pocket knife, keeping it low against my thigh while I follow the frantic breathing through the rows of cars.

Finally, a sob breaks through.

“Help me. Please …”

My work bag slips from my shoulder as I turn around, searching the lot for any sign of movement. “Where are you?”

“I'm here.”

I take off toward her voice, nearly losing my footing again on another patch of ice. My hand catches the side of a car, and I push off, following her cries until movement between two vehicles catches my eye.

A woman is on her knees, folded forward toward the pavement. She looks up at me, her face swollen from tears.

“Please help me,” she whimpers. “I fell, and I d-dropped my phone, and …” Her voice is lost to her cries. “It hurts so bad.”

“Don't move.” I drop my bag and carefully lower into a squat, keeping enough distance not to startle her. “I'm a doctor. I'm going to help you, okay?”

She nods through another sob, shifting just enough for me to get a better look at her.

Fuck.

Beneath her coat, her belly strains against her shirt, round and unmistakably pregnant. My eyes drop lower, and my stomach clenches. Blood has soaked through the front of her pants, spreading down the insides of her thighs and onto the pavement beneath her knees.

Every thought in my head snaps into place.

“How far along are you?”

“Thirty-five weeks.” Her trembling hand moves toward her abdomen, but she stops short of touching it, curling forward instead. “It just hurts so badly.”