Page 9 of Brood (After the End #5)

Chapter Four

The examination chair in the Level One clinic is clean, white, and adjustable, cushioned with buttery soft vinyl. There are stirrups for your feet. Locking clamps for your wrists. Depending on the nature of the exam, there’s also a belt for your waist.

Today I’m positioned with my lower body higher than my upper and my legs spread far apart as Dr. Cameron peers between my thighs. He’s got a bright light on a strap around his forehead, and he’s using his largest speculum to spread open my vagina.

It hurts. A lot. It’s been more than three months since my spousal ceremony. Will and I have had intercourse every night I’m not on my period. I was hoping, since I’m now used to penetration, that the pelvic exam wouldn’t be so painful, but I was wrong.

I hold myself perfectly still, ignoring the tears beading in my eyes.

“All right, peaches,” Dr. Cameron says in the gentle, almost-singsongy tone he always uses. “Let’s see what’s going on down here.”

“Nothing has been hurting or anything,” I explain. “And my periods have been normal. I don’t understand why we’re not getting pregnant.”

“He’s ejaculating in your vagina regularly?”

“Yes. Every night.”

“What positions are you using?” He picks up a shiny tool and inserts it. I have no idea what he’s doing, but the poking around hurts even more. “You’re not on top, I hope.”

My cheeks burn. “No, I’m not on top. I’m on my hands and knees.”

“Hmm.”

I wait, struggling not to wince as he moves the instrument deeper. “Is something wrong with that position?”

“Not at all. Just be careful about the angle. To give yourself the best chance, you don’t want to waste any of his seed.”

“I don’t think we do. He always…pushes it back in. If it leaks.” I swallow a wave of nausea.

“That’s all right, then. You’re looking really good down here.” He peers at my face from in between my knees, his headlamp blinding me. “Everything is fresh and pink and healthy. He’s not bringing himself to orgasm on his own, is he?”

“No!” My voice sounds weird to my own ears, and I wish he would stop asking me questions. None of this feels like his business. “He only ever ejaculates inside me. Except for when you test his sperm.”

Dr. Cameron’s job is to make sure everyone on his level is healthy and having as many babies as possible. It would be wrong for me to withhold information he might need to give me the best treatment and advice.

But I hate it. More than I ever did before.

“Very good. It sounds like you both are doing everything right. There’s nothing wrong with your body. It’s in excellent condition.” He adjusts the speculum, opening it even wider. When I gasp at the discomfort, he says, “Take a deep breath, peaches. Relax for me.”

I try to do what he says, but I jerk when I feel his fingers inside me.

I know this is part of the medical checkup, but it feels wrong. Invasive.

“Long, slow breaths. Let me see them.”

I take a shuddering one and then another that’s not as shaky.

“Better. I know your body better than anyone else, so you need to trust me.”

“O-kay.”

“Everything is fine. His sperm count is still good, and your hormone levels are perfect.”

“Then why…why aren’t we getting pregnant?”

“Try to be patient and give it more time. Most couples don’t manage to get pregnant immediately. It’s not like the barbarians aboveground. We don’t breed like animals down here. Your body knows best and will accept his seed at the right time.” He’s still rubbing my inner walls.

I hate it. “Okay.”

“What’s happened here?” he asks, finally removing his hand from inside me and instead running his fingertips over the wrappings on my left ankle.

“Oh. I twisted it yesterday getting off the treadmill, and it was sore, so Will wrapped it up for me.”

He frowns and tsk-tsks as he unwraps the stretchy bandage.

I don’t want him to do that. It feels better the way Will wrapped it. But I don’t object, of course. Neither of us is a medical expert.

“And why did you allow him to do that rather than pay me a visit?” I’ve never liked that singsongy murmur he always uses, but today it’s grating on me like grinding teeth.

He moves my foot in all directions, and I gasp when one of the angles hurts. “It wasn’t that bad. Will knew what to do.”

“Chief Will’s job is to spill his seed inside you. It is not to interfere with you in any other way, and it is not to make judgement calls about your health.” He goes to a locked cabinet, waits until his face in the camera unlocks it, and then takes out a small vial and a hypodermic needle.

When he’s prepared the shot, he comes back to inject it into my ankle.

Shortly, all sensations in my foot and ankle have gone.

“Next time you come right to me immediately, peaches.”

“Okay.” I have to force the word out of my throat.

“Good girl.” He returns to his position between my legs, finally retracting and withdrawing the speculum.

It’s not over yet, however. He inserts three fingers inside me, moving them around and curling them up as he presses down with his other hand against my lower belly.

I bite back a whimpering sound as the pressure creates an intense cramping pain.

“Breathe slow and deep, peaches.”

Although I do as he says, I hate every minute of it until he finally finishes the examination, swings the chair upright again, and lets me out of the stirrups and clamps.

* * *

A couple of hours later, I’m trying to focus on adjusting the seasoning in the stir-fried vegetables and ignore the lingering pain between my legs and the numbness of my foot and ankle.

I was hoping the physical exam might assuage my worries about not getting pregnant yet, but I feel so much worse now than I did this morning.

Despite my continued attempts to be less emotional, I’ve felt like crying all afternoon.

Monica has been glaring at me throughout the shift, but I’m used to that now. At least she doesn’t openly lecture me anymore like she did for the first few weeks after Vanessa died.

So I’m surprised when I hear a shrill demand from across the room. “Cadence. Over here, now.”

Frowning, I set down my seasoning mix and walk through the kitchen to where Monica is standing with cold eyes and pursed lips. “There’s someone outside to speak to you. Don’t waste too much time.”

I’m more confused than ever, but I limp out to the hallway. No one pays visits during work shifts. It’s simply not allowed.

I straighten when I see Will leaning against the wall across from the doorway. His thick hair is more wildly rumpled than usual, and he’s got a couple of grease stains on his shirt.

“Will,” I say, something about his familiar stoic face and broad shoulders comforting me for the first time all day. I returned to our quarters after my appointment with the doctor. Will is often there for an hour or so in the afternoon, but he wasn’t today. “What’s going on?”

“There was a maintenance issue with one of the generators that kept me busy all afternoon,” he explains. “How did your appointment go?”

My breath hitches. He pulled me out of my work shift to ask about the examination. “It was okay. He said everything is perfectly healthy, and there are no problems with my hormones or your sperm. It just takes more time.”

“All right.” He’s speaking almost as softly as Dr. Cameron, but Will’s voice is low and gruff and uninflected. It soothes me rather than grates on me. “Then we’ll keep doing what we’re doing.”

I lift my left foot so I can rub at my numb ankle until I realize what I’m doing and set it down again. “That’s what he said we should do.”

Will’s head tilts down more, and his eyes narrow. He uses one of his big hands to lift my face so he can see it better. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Dr. Cameron said everything was fine.”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re too pale, and you look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“Why did you unwrap your ankle?”

“I didn’t. Dr. Cameron did. He gave me a shot.”

Will makes a face, but he doesn’t reply to my explanation with words. He seems very bristly right now, but I don’t think it’s directed toward me.

“I’m really fine,” I tell him, horrified when I hear my voice wobble.

Will isn’t being sweet or reassuring or comforting or loving. He’s acting with his normal terse, unrevealing efficiency. But it’s making me feel better anyway.

He waits, staring at me like he’s expecting me to break down into tears or something.

I don’t.

Finally, he says, “I can give you a shift exemption this afternoon if you need it.”

“Oh.” The idea of having the rest of the day off is a dream, but it’s also weak and needy, and I’ve never been like that. “No, I’m okay. I don’t need an exemption.”

“All right.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps peering at me.

I hug my arms across my chest. “I better get back to work, or Monica will let me have it.”

“She better not. Let me know if she says anything.”

“I will.” I stand in front of the door, waiting for it to slide open. As it does, I give Will one more quick look over my shoulder. He’s got some sort of dirt smear on his cheek and into his beard. I want to clean it off for him. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes.”

And that’s it. I go back to work.

* * *

That evening, I’m still sore and sickish. I can’t seem to shake that examination.

I don’t even know why.

I don’t eat much at dinner, and then I return to quarters early. I spend longer than usual cleaning myself up. Then I put back on my camisole and loose, light pants. I usually wear only my panties to bed, but for some reason, I want to be covered up tonight.

I’m curled up on my side in bed when Will comes in.

“You said you weren’t sick.” He sounds disapproving but not bad-tempered.

“I’m not. Just kind of sore.”

“From what?”

“From…the exam. He uses a speculum and opens my vagina really wide. It hurts.”

He frowns, breathing heavily.

“It’s normal. It’s the only way to see inside. I just…don’t like it.”

He takes three steps closer to my bed. “Did something happen during the examination?”