I haven't been back to sleep since my post yesterday. I can't even begin to describe the horror of the last day, but I have to get out the events. Writing has always been my way to relieve my mental pressure. That's why this blog exists. How to begin?
Where I left off, I guess.
I went outside when I heard the gunfire and people yelling. I thought maybe there was a breach in the wall, perhaps a few zombies got through. I was terribly wrong.
The scene I came upon less than thirty yards from my house froze me solid for a few seconds. There was Patrick, Aaron, Will, my wife Jess and a Big man in an army uniform. Pat and Aaron were crowded around Jess, who was laying on the ground covered in blood. Will was kneeling painfully at the side of the man wearing fatigues, checking for a pulse.
I couldn't understand what I was seeing. It made no sense to me.
Pat, Aaron and I all seemed to move at once, hauling jess up into Will's forgotten wheelchair, and we rushed her around the corner to the clinic that was once my mother's house. I don't know how long we were there, or how much blood Jess lost, but I was at her side the entire time Evans and Gabrielle were working on her. I held her hand and prayed, begged to god that he save her. A god I hadn't talked to or fully believed in for a long, long time. I wept at the agony I saw in her eyes as my friends pushed themselves beyond their limits to save her life, and that of our unborn child.
Hours, it seemed like. It might have even taken that long in reality.
But she's alive. Our baby didn't make it.
Gabrielle didn't want me to look at him, but I had to. I couldn't let him go without at least touching those tiny hands at least once. I needed the reassurance that he had been. I don't know if I can explain it, so I don't think I will try more than that.
Jessica was unconscious by the time the baby passed, so she didn't have to deal with the immediacy of it. I don't know how I am going to be able to tell her when she comes to. Jess had always been indifferent bordering on not wanting children, but when we found out she was pregnant, things changed. She changed. I don't know if I can bear to be the one to crush the joy in her heart as it has been in mine.
I found out much later what happened.
Jess met up with Aaron, Pat and Will as she was coming home. The army guy came out of the south woods, yelling at Will. He got close to them, yelling about Will coming back home. Pat and Aaron were unarmed, but tried to give Jess and Will cover with their bodies. The guy drew a gun, but Will was prepared. He pushed himself out of his chair to snag a rock from the ground and to get out from behind his two protectors.
Will threw perfectly, crushed the guy's throat. Pat and Aaron were shocked enough that both of them moved from where they were standing, and that made an open path to Jess. I would like to think that the shot was just wild and random, that no human being left alive could possibly shoot a pregnant woman on purpose. I don't know. But regardless of his intent, the result was clear.
Evans took a look at the man's corpse not too long ago. He says that there are deep bruises in the shape of fingers around his windpipe. I guess Will was doing more than just checking for a pulse. Good for him.
I need to go check on Jess again. If this seems flat and without my sometime habit of writing elaborately and with pretty words, it's because I just can't find the right ones to express what is pouring through my head right now.
I have to go.
I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop it. I know you don't blame me, but hell we all feel responsible when a tragedy strikes. More so, when you're there. I wish I had been able to stop him or that I hadn't moved and the bullet had struck me instead. But, it hadn't. That being said, while I don't know what it's like to lose a child, I do know what it's like to lose. I think we all do. Still, if you want someone to talk to, I'm here. It's all I can offer at this point. That and a close eye on things around me to make sure that never happens again. I know I'm new around here, but if you need anything from me, let me know. I'm sorry for the loss of your son, and sorry I couldn't do more to stop it.