Author: Alicia Cerra Waters

I remember laying on the midwife’s cot after the world had been deep-fried by a nuclear bomb. I wasn’t feeling very optimistic. The midwife’s mouth puckered with words she didn’t want to say as she offered me some herbs. Problem is, I knew those herbs didn’t even work for the coughs and colds they were supposed to cure. Everywhere was a desert and people thought anything green was medicine. But only medicine was medicine, and only the witch doctor at the top of this mountain had it. No one living in the underground barracks had anything besides superstition. Of course, the witch doctor had her superstitions too. Her tech could cure anything, but she demanded a life debt. So I hired one of the con-artists who called themselves guides to take me to her.
“Watch your step,” the guide said. A black bandana covered his mouth to keep out the sands. When we left, he told me in no uncertain terms he thought I’d die out here. Which would be too bad. Life was the only currency I had.
The bleeding had stopped some, but the mountain to the witch’s hut was a sharp climb. Not at all ideal for my situation at nine months pregnant, yes of course my muscles ached and my breathing was ragged, but women had overcome shit-odds like these long before the world ended and I would be no exception. I worked my way around the drum of my belly and hauled myself up the sharp ridge. Above us, three more ledges jutted out. We could see the squat metal dome which buzzed with electric lights like a beacon.
“Listen,” he said, “I have some cyanide.”
I jerked my head up towards him as I hauled myself onto the ledge. “Why would I want that?”
“Girls like you from the worst part of the barracks always get screwed over. A quick death is better than bleeding out in childbirth.”
“Thanks for your concern.” A shit-eating grin split my face. Two more ledges to go.
“You’re tough. I like that. If you want, I’ll bring it back to the guy who put it in you. Where is he anyway?” His eyes narrowed on me as sweat trickled down my brow. I was pretty enough. It’s the only reason he agreed to take me.
“He’s dead,” I said. My legs throbbed like the baby would be forced into the world right here, right now. I almost lost my grip as stars closed in on my vision, but somehow I pulled myself over the second ledge. All that mattered was getting to the top.
The guide let out a low whistle. “I’m sorry I’m meeting you now that it’s the end for you.” He was about my age. Probably not bad-looking under the face covering.
“I’m not,” I said, and tossed my hip into the last ledge of rock, my arms scrambling and scraping, and kicked my way over it. He smiled under his bandana like I’d given him a complement. Ridiculous.
I laid on my side in the sand and looked at the hut, which was really a fortified storm shelter, nicer than anything back where we came from. I rose to my knees when the witch doctor opened the door.
“I’m bleeding. The baby’s coming soon,” I said.
The witch shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. Women get out of worse situations than yours all the time.”
“Wait a minute,” the guide said. “What about the life debt?”
That was when my knife opened his throat. “Paid,” I said.