Page 82 of Terror at the Gates

Maybe she dialed me by accident, I thought, though something about that didn’t feel right. Reluctantly, I ended the call, checking my texts to see if she’d sent anything, but there was nothing.

I started walking, but I only made it a few steps before my phone rang again.

“Esther?” I answered, but again there was silence. “Esther!”

I spoke louder, hoping she might hear me if she had accidentally made the call, but there was nothing. Again, I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. That feeling of unease deepened, and I changed directions heading toward Sumer. There was nothing wrong with double-checking that everything was all right…right?

I kept the call connected as I headed toward theirapartment. At some point, I discarded the umbrella and broke into a full-out run.

I told myself I was just being overly protective. It was likely that Esther had fallen asleep on the couch like she had the night I was attacked. She probably had her phone under her. That was how I imagined finding her. Perfectly fine, asleep.

I just needed peace of mind.

By the time I made it to the apartment, my lungs were burning from exertion, and my hands were a little shaky. I entered the code to her building and headed up the elevator, which seemed to take a century to reach their floor. The doors were barely open when I slipped through and hurried down the hall to their apartment. I didn’t knock.

If Esther really was asleep, I didn’t want to disturb her rest. Instead, I used my key.

As soon as I was inside, I knew something was wrong. There was spilled tea and shattered ceramic on the floor of the kitchen, like she’d been in the middle of making tea when she’d dropped her mug. It was a mess Esther would have never left untouched, even at the end of her third trimester.

I drew my gun.

“Esther?” I called, jumping over the shattered cup.

That was when I saw the blood. It was just a few bright drops, but it was leading toward the bedroom.

Maybe she’d cut her hand.

“Esther!”

My voice reached a pitch I didn’t recognize. Hysteria rose inside me as I made my way into her bedroom. It was also empty, but the door to her bathroom was ajar, and through it, I could see a foot.

“Esther!” I screamed, holstering my gun as I charged intothe room.

My vision was suddenly red.

Blood waseverywhere—on the sink, the toilet, the bathtub, the floor—and in the middle of it all was Esther. She lay on her side, her hand near her phone, one finger extended and curled, hovering over a dark screen. The other rested on her round belly.

“No, no, no, no.”

My hands shook so badly as I pulled out my phone, it slipped from my hands, clattering to the floor, sending blood spattering across my shoes and the bottom of my jeans. I picked it up and wiped it on my shirt, eyes blurry with tears. I managed to get enough off the screen to dial emergency services.

When the dispatcher answered, I screamed the address into the phone.

“912 Sumer Road, Unit 716. My friend is unconscious and bleeding. She’s pregnant.”

I could hear the woman on the other side, clicking away.

“You said the patient is a female?” she asked.

“Yes! A female, thirty-five weeks pregnant.” I could barely speak because I could barely think. “She’s bleeding everywhere. There is blood everywhere!”

“Is she breathing?”

I couldn’t tell.

I lowered to my knees and put my ear to her chest.

“Y-yes! Yes!”