Page 73

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.

The vision cleared, and I was standing in a lukewarm shower with my head still aching terribly. “I’ll be out.”

I wrapped myself in a robe that Max had left for me, and I opened the door to see Max and my midwife Jovie in our living room, sipping lavender tea.

“Oh,” I said in surprise and drew my robe more tightly around me, even though Jovie had already seen my most intimate parts.

She looked at me with a tight smile, and her eyes conveyed so much pity and concern. Max avoided mygaze, so she was likely here on his behest. They were worried about me, which meant that my behavior must be worrying.

Too late, I realized that I must be more unwell than I thought I was.

“Oh.”

“Stella, Jovie’s here because…” Max trailed off, sheepish.

“We’re both concerned about you because we care about you,” Jovie finished for him, but I already knew that. I wanted something new.

“What’s wrong with me?” I asked and already silent tears were spilling down my cheeks.

“I have some ideas, based on what I’ve observed and from what Max has told me,” Jovie said. “If you’d like to sit down and have some tea, we’ll talk about it.”

Max held his hand out toward me, and I took it and sat on the couch beside him. I was hungry, and I quickly drank the tea with honey, so I’d have something filling my belly.

Jovie was sitting on the chair across from us, and she leaned forward slightly when she asked, “Have you heard of postpartum depression or postpartum psychosis?”

“I read about it in a book, I think. You cry a lot after the baby is born,” I said, summarizing my understanding.

“It’s more than that. The sudden changes from pregnancy, in addition to all the stress and sleep deprivation of a newborn can cause big changes in someone after giving birth,” Jovie explained. “Symptoms can include intense sadness, anger, anxiety, and all the way over to extreme hostility, hallucinations, and even delusions.”

“Hallucinations?” I asked.

“Hallucinations are seeing or hearing things thataren’t really here,” she elaborated. “Do you think you might have been experiencing something like that?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered uncertainly.

“Given that you had an unexpected high-risk pregnancy at such a young age, in a stressful environment, after a somewhat traumatic illness and birth, it is normal to struggle,” she said. “The fact that you’re still alive just proves how incredibly strong you are, and there’s nothing wrong with asking for help. You are not being a bad mom or anything like that. Life is cruel and difficult and unfair. But we can help you.”

“I need help,” I admitted quietly, and then tears were coming down so fast and hard.

And they weremytears, and it wasmyfear in my heart, but it was alsohis– the zombie child’s. I felt it as much as I felt anything, and I wanted it to stop.

“Sometimes the first step is realizing that you need help.” Jovie smiled warmly at me. Then she grabbed a large medicine bag and pulled out herbs and teas, a few books, and a tiny vial of liquid. “I’ve brought some tools to help you through this, because you can make it through this.”

Max wrapped his arm around me, and he kissed my shoulder. “I love you, Stella, and I know that you can overcome anything.”

43

Remy

Mayor Vaughn and his alderman Wilder snuck the zombie child into the town through the walls by the cover of night. It was late after we got back from the hunting-trip-turned-rescue-mission. The snow mobiles had made it quicker, but they were slowed down by all the weight.

Vaughn hid the zombie under the bear hide on the back of the trailer, and he drove the snowmobile through the gates after passing his examination upon entrance. They went straight to the town garage, and from there, Wilder carried the zombie – still bound and wrapped up in bearskin – into the mayor’s office and down to the jail cells in the basement.

The office in actuality was an old church, the first non-domicile structure built in the former town of Baptiste in the year 1863, or at least that is what Vaughn claimed as he led us through the building. Boden and I followed him and Wilder, but all of the others had gone home. They were more concerned with seeing their families than making sure the zombie was secure.

In the main sanctuary, all of the pews had been cleared out, so it was a big empty room. Metal folding chairs were stacked in the corner, likely for when town meetings were held. The raised alter area where the pulpit had once been was converted to an office with a desk, file cabinets, and a potted ficus plant.

On the western wall, there was an old choir balcony with a large circular stained-glass window. Beneath that, there was a small apartment that the mayor called home, but I didn’t have a chance to do more than glance inside at wood paneling and olive-green carpet.