They were lead through a long corridor.
From the ceiling to the floor it was entirely made concrete; the air was stale, smelling like a mixture of mold and some kind of oil. The factory itself used to manufacture tires, but it closed down in the early Eighties due to financial cuts and its location was too far from any of its customers. Over where they walked was a wide brown streak of a stain that Lisa didn't get to see where it went. A few of the doors were open; as they walked by them Lisa tried to see what was inside but the rooms were all too dark.
Wind was blowing, making an eerie sound that went along with the men's boots, like a morbid army drill. Each step Lisa felt more and more worse in her stomach, feeling as if she would get sick at any time. Behind her she could hear the other woman still fondling around her captures, fighting every inch of the way. Lauren, who was right behind Lisa, was so terrified that she urinated as she walked, which made one of the men behind her comment, “Look at this disgusting bitch.”
The walk felt like an eternity. They were heading toward a door at the very end of the corridor; as it got closer all Lisa did was try to imagine the best scenario she could about what they were being lead to. Maybe all they were going to do was rape them; maybe these men had a sick fetish about pregnant women and they were going to participate in a gang rape and that would be all. The idea made her sick, and it wasn't all that possible to her regardless of how hopeful she was. If that's all it were, then why were the men so armed?
When they made it to the door the man on her left knocked three times. With her head down, she waited for a moment until the door was unlocked from the inside, and they were then lead into a large room that was lit up with lights hanging from the ceiling and some spotlights that stood across from them.
Standing in front of the lights were more men, maybe around ten or fifteen. They all wore the same black t-shirts, blue jeans, and boots as the ones who brought the women there.
“Hey Jeff!” one of them called out. “They're here.”
The area of the room reminded Lisa of a gymnasium; it was all concrete, and had large windows on the wall from where they entered. The guys looked as if they were hanging out, waiting, sitting and standing among chairs and beat up office desks. A group of four were playing cards, while the rest just looked on at their new captives with no emotion, their faces still like statues.
Lisa and the two other women were made to stand across from them, wide apart and were told to keep their hands to their sides. The three of them shook from fear and from the cool draft that haunted the room. Lisa kept her hands bulged in fists, trying to focus her sight at the floor beneath her and nowhere else.
One of the men called out again, “Jeff! You coming?”
“Yeah, I'm right here!”
Lisa looked up and saw a man walking from a well-lit doorway on the left side of the room. It was Jeff; he didn't look too different from the other men, other than wearing a jacket over his black shirt. He had a red goatee, and matching red hair that showed underneath a Boston Red Sox cap. He seemed like the leader of whatever this group was, but didn't differ in size either, having a somewhat stocky build while sporting what some would call a “beer belly”.
He walked to the middle of the room and stood just feet away from the women, directly across from Lauren but scanned each of them equally. He turned his head and whistled at his men; two of them ran over, standing behind him pointing their guns at the women.
Lauren with all the courage she had left began to speak, “What are you doing with-”
But Jeff put his finger up to his lips, shaking his head.
“I don't want to hear anything. I'll ask you to speak and you'll answer me when I do. Right now, take off your clothes.”
The women gave quick looks at one another. They stood motionless for a moment, too nerved up and too embarrassed to do what they were told.
Jeff didn't care to wait for his order to be filled. He shouted, “Did you hear me? Now!”
Lisa and the rest began to strip, removing their nightgowns over their heads, unsnapping their bras, all while Jeff dictated, “Everything. Socks, panties, whatever shit you got on throw it in front of you.” Lisa bent over as much as she could after lowering her underwear to slide her feet out of the tube socks she had on, kicking them and the rest of her clothing away.
When the women were done they stood naked, all three with their heads lowered shamefully, feeling more vulnerable than ever. They each had the same idea, crossing their arms over their chests and keeping their legs bundled together, shielding themselves as much as they could.
As Jeff walked forward, turning toward Lisa, he threatened, “You were told to keep your arms down. Get them down now or you're done.” The girls did so without hesitation.
He then focused his attention on Lisa, standing just a few inches away from her. She held her eyes closed, not wanting to look him directly in the eye. In doing so, she didn't see Jeff place the palm of his hand over her bellybutton, his cold skin waved a shock through her, forcing her eyes open. His bearded face was close enough to where Lisa, if she looked up, could make out every line, every wrinkle he had. But she didn't dare.
He told the three, “I'm going to ask you a question, and I only want the answer. Don't ask me what's going on, don't tell me you wanna go home, don't ask me if you're gonna die. You behave with us and you'll be fine for now.”
Jeff picked Lisa's head up by her chin gently, forcing her to look at him while she quivered on the spot. He leaned his head sideways and asked in a low tone, “How many months exactly are you? To the day.”
Lisa looked away to the side. He meant how along she was with her pregnancy. She didn't know why he asked, but didn't care to know why, too afraid that if she gave the wrong answer he would have her murdered then and there.
She stuttered her answer, “Seven m-months, plus...a week.”
“Are you sure it's just one week?”
She was positive.
Jeff shouted behind him, “Seven and one week!” One of his men jotted it down on a clipboard.
He then walked over to Lauren, who still had her head down. Lauren, thirty-four, was a woman of African-American decent; the past couple of months for her had been strenuous. There was tension between her and the father of her baby, a US Marine who was then overseas. She desperately wanted him home to be with her for the pregnancy, and with her emotions caught in a whirl of estrogen and loneliness she ended up being terminated from her job just three months before and had to move back to her mother's house along with her five-year-old son. With her mother's help she had a job lined up and was even able to speak with her fiance more often and mend their relationship; but all of that didn't seem to matter anymore.
“How many months are you?” Jeff asked her.
She replied without lifting up her face. “I'm seven, almost exact.”
“What's almost exact mean?”
“It's been seven months since a few days ago.”
“Just write seven!”
Jeff moved on to the final girl. Her name was actually Michelle. Not much information was given about her; all that's know is she was twenty-three and had moved in with her fiance Robert around the time she found out she was expecting. That night the men broke into their house, and when they found the couple Robert was ready to fend them off with a gun of his own. But sadly, in the confusion and panic when he went to shoot he discovered the gun wasn't loaded, and the driver acted without thinking and shot him dead with a single bullet through his heart, right in front of Michelle, who tried to remain still in the bathroom but when she saw it happen couldn't help but scream bloody murder.
“How many months are you?”
Michelle couldn't answer. She looked to the side and began to cry, her face crunched up turning red.
Jeff grabbed her face by her cheeks and said, “Are you gonna make me ask again?” Lisa looked on with a tint of nervousness, hoping she wasn't about to see anything happen to the poor girl.
Michelle took in a couple breathes, sucking back up the snot that started drooping from her nose. She managed to answer Jeff in a little quaky voice, “Eight, eight- eight and a couple weeks.”
“Just put down eight and two!”
He turned and walked back to his men, taking the clipboard and looked it over. The girls looked at one another, their faces flushed with worry, all of their eyes asking each other what now? Lisa looked back at Jeff as he read over whatever was on the clipboard, and at the two men still pointing their weapons at them, like the girls were ready to be done in by a firing squad, without a single clue what was ahead.
Jeff dropped the board onto one of the desks and had some of his guys follow behind him as he walked back toward the women. The look in his eyes, the piercing gaze that he shot through the three of them wasn't in their favor. She braced herself for whatever he planned to do.
“Her,” he pointed to Lisa, “and her,” he pointed at Lauren. “You can take them.”
Lisa and Lauren both backed against the wall as four of Jeff's men approached them. Lauren kept asking where they were going but none of them said anything except to start walking. Both girls held each other while surrounded; they looked as they were lead away back at Michelle, who stood with her mouth open watching as they were lead out into another corridor on the opposite side of the building.
She looked over back at Jeff, who was speaking to one of his guys, a scrawny-looking bald one. She heard the man ask him, “Why are you leaving her?”
“She's actually ready to go now. The others still have a little time left.”
She didn't understand. He walked back over and stood near the door he came from, then told his men, “Alright, grab her.”
On command a couple of them started toward her. Michelle yelped, smacking the wall and ran for the exit; some more of Jeff's guys joined them and they all swarmed in on her. She couldn't escape, the door they came in had been locked shut.
They caught her as she tried to pull it open; she fought as much as she could, elbowing one of the men in the face, but quickly they overpowered her, turning her the other way and picked her up by her arms and legs. While they marched her she flailed in their grasp, yelling repeatedly, “Please! Please! Stop!” They brought her in no time to the room Jeff came out of.
The room was pure white, and in the middle sat a weird chair with long arms and two stirrups. Michelle noticed even as she panicked what looked like dried blood on the seat, and it made her toss and turn even harder but to no effect. When they finally placed her down two of them took their belts off and tied her arms down, and the other two stuck her feet through the large shackles and locked her in, securing her.
Jeff came in, ordering one of his men to put the seat back, and he walked behind the chair so he could help silence Michelle as she continued to scream off the top of her lungs. He placed a ball-gag in her mouth and wrapped it around her head, turning her screams into loud growls.
As they walked around her, Michelle looked around, noticing through her teary eyes the room resembled something of a medical office, complete with trays of surgical equipment along the wall, and above them hung posters that had information printed on them about the do's and don'ts of infant care. She couldn't stop crying, her breathing grew rapid and the gag started to almost suffocate her.
Then a man walked from behind her; his presence made her gasp a full breath as he wasn't matching the others in clothing, looking very much like a doctor wearing blue scrubs and a long white lab coat. He walked slowly over to his equipment near the door. It was pretty obvious what was happening, and when it hit Michelle she tried wiggling even harder to free herself, not wanting what was going down to happen.
Jeff held at her shoulders, peering over her, “Ssshhhh, stop,” he told her in an easy voice, “It'll be over soon.” Michelle laid still, channeling herself to be as calm as possible, but the anxiety of what was happening wouldn't allow her to be quiet. He then looked up at the doctor, “Mike, let's get this started, man.”
Mike, the doctor, this short-haired man in glasses, appearing to be somewhere around forty, turned around. His lips were pressed, and his eyes were drooped as if he wasn't fully there.
Michelle looked and saw he was walking over with what looked like a scalpel in his right hand, which made her flail more even with Jeff pressing her down. Her legs made the stirrups clank their metal sound, and the chair started to move slightly. But no matter what she did she was in trouble.
Mike sat in a stool between her legs, with one of Jeff's men below him holding a yellow towel. She couldn't see behind the view of her stomach what he was doing, totally unable to brace for the pain; she muffled unintelligibly, “No, please! Don't fucking kill me!” Mike looked up at her, then at Jeff. He sighed, placing his hand on her stomach, then brought the scalpel to her crotch and poked through her amniotic sac, rupturing it to start the labor.
Michelle's head flung back, the pain was so excruciating she couldn't even let out a scream. She felt blood begin to flow out of her, hitting the floor and soaking the seat. She gave quick interval screams every few seconds, unable to accept what was happen. She looked up at Jeff who was still over her holding her shoulders, shaking her head to make it all stop.
Mike pried his hands in her to make the opening more wide while searching for the baby's head. He started to rub around her stomach, telling her to breathe and to start to push. She closed her eyes tightly, still feeling the rupture's pressure; she decided to comply with Mike and began to push as much as she could, only stopping when it felt like the blood was rushed out.
There was no point in trying to battle it. This was actually happening to her, she was really forced into labor, alone, naked, in a strange room by some ungodly men, for what she didn't know. Tears drenched her cheeks, the pain still made itself evident; this wasn't how she saw the childbirth experience being, these men were robbing her of what was supposed to be one of the more joyful moments of her life, and most likely of her own life with it.
“There's the head, I think I got it open good enough. Just keep at it.”
She was losing so much blood she couldn't even strain herself in her restraints anymore, but she had enough juice left to continue her pushes. She could feel the baby between her coming, the pain from his prod was no longer there, or if it was she couldn't differ which pain it was she felt.
When it was out enough Mike turned the baby's body on its side, asking for one more decent push as he helped slowly pull it out. Michelle gave one last push that came with a weak grunt, then Mike stood up, holding the baby, a boy, in his hands. She looked up and saw the little thing, his arms moving around, kicking. She didn't smile, just continued to breathe looking at him. The blood loss had her feel loopy, and soon the room began to go blurry. Mike reached behind him for a pair of surgical scissors and snipped the umbilical cord in two. Michelle was able to hear her baby's cry.
Jeff asked him, “Is it healthy?”
Mike replied, “He is.” It's a boy, Michelle thought.
It was over. Michelle did what she was brought to do. Mike and one of Jeff's guys took the baby into another room to be cleaned.
Michelle's eyes followed them through the blur. Mike looked at her before exiting, seeing the paleness and tiredness in her face, then watched as Jeff walk over to the side of her, and he sighed once again. Michelle grew delirious at that point, pretty much nearing death after losing so much fluid during the procedure. Her body laid in the chair in a feeling of tranquility, like she was letting go. She tried talking through the gag, trying to ask if she could hold her baby, just to know he was okay, to get to know him even for just a moment, that she did good. But that sadly wouldn't happen.
With her head turned away from him, Jeff then took the gun he had in his pants and as quick as he did shot her once in the back of the head; the sound echoed through the whole building. He then told his remaining men to unlock her and clean up.