Year One by Nora Roberts

the pleas for help, the mad laughter.
    Eventually his depression and despair would turn to madness. And he feared, actively feared, that the madness would turn him into one of the vicious who hunted others and caused more death.
    Better to end it, just end it and go into the quiet.
    He reached into his coat pocket, felt the reassuring shape of the gun. He started toward the ambulance, glad he’d had the chance to see Rachel, to help her, to say good-bye. He wondered what Healy would find in his blood. Something tainted with this horrible ability?
    Cursed blood.
    He turned at the blast of a horn, but kept walking even as the minivan squealed up, bumped onto the curb. More death for the death house, he thought, hunching his shoulders at the call for help.
    No help for it.
    â€œPlease, please. Help me.”
    No more death, he vowed. He wasn’t going to look at any more death.
    â€œThe babies are coming! I need help.”
    He couldn’t stop himself from looking back again, and watched the woman drag herself out of the bright red van, cradling her pregnant belly.
    â€œI need a doctor. I’m in labor. They’re coming.”
    He didn’t see death, but life. Three lives. Three bright sparks.
    Comforting himself that he could kill himself later, he went to her.
    â€œHow many weeks?”
    â€œThirty-four weeks, five days. Twins. I’m having twins.”
    â€œThat’s good baking time for a two-pack.” He got an arm around her.
    â€œAre you a doctor?”
    â€œNo. Paramedic. I’m not taking you through the ER. It’s full of the infected.”
    â€œI think I’m immune. Everyone else … But the babies. They’re alive. They’re not sick.”
    Hearing the fear in her voice, he tuned his own to easy reassurance. “Okay, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to go in that door up there. I’ll get you to Maternity. We’ll get you a doctor.”
    â€œI— Contraction!” She grabbed on to him, digging her fingers in like claws, breathing in hisses.
    â€œSlow it down.”
    â€œYou slow it down,” she snapped, hissing her way through it. “Sorry.”
    â€œNo problem. How far apart?”
    â€œI couldn’t time them once I started driving. About three minutes when I left. It took me, I don’t know. Ten minutes to get here. I didn’t know what else to do.”
    He got her inside, steered her toward the elevators. “What’s your name?”
    â€œKatie.”
    â€œI’m Jonah. You ready for twins, Katie?”
    She looked up at him, huge green eyes, then dropped her head on his chest and wept.
    â€œIt’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all going to be all right.”
    Bringing babies into this dark, deadly world? He hadn’t thought of it. Told himself not to think beyond getting her to Maternity.
    â€œDid your water break?”
    She shook her head.
    The elevator doors opened onto an empty reception area. That same echoing silence made him realize he might find no help for her there.
    He led her back—empty rooms, unmanned desk. Didn’t anyone have babies anymore?
    He steered her into one of the birthing suites. “Prime digs,” he said, working to keep cheer in his voice. “Let’s get your coat off, get you in bed. Who’s your OB?”
    â€œHe’s dead. It doesn’t matter, he’s dead.”
    â€œLet’s get your shoes off.” He pressed the nurse’s call button before he crouched down, pulled off her shoes.
    They wouldn’t bother with a gown. He didn’t know where to find one, didn’t want to waste time looking. She was wearing a dress anyway.
    â€œHere you go.” He helped her into bed, stopping when she dug her fingers into his arm again. Pushed the call button again.
    â€œAre they all dead?” she asked when the contraction passed. “The doctors, the nurses?”
    â€œNo. I was just talking to a