Into the Dark

 Short Story Prompt 11: Area 52 | Wordcount: 500 words exactly | Deadline: 4 November 2020

 Prequel to In the Garden of Eden

 

 

Icy rain pelts Allie, soaking her clothes, dripping from her hair in rivulets down her face. Beneath her sodden coat, the baby mews in equal misery.

 

Street lights are just coming on, illuminating the rain. The street is empty, save for a pizza delivery car, pulling into a driveway at the end of the road. God, what she wouldn’t give for a piece of pizza.

 

She trudges on with dogged determination, until arriving at her destination, shivering from the cold. Kevin’s car is in the open garage, filling her with conflicting feelings of dread and hope.

 

Plucking up her courage, she climbs the steps and raps loudly on the front door.

 

After a few moments, the porch light comes on and Mrs. Langley opens the door. She peers at Allie with scornful recognition. “Kevin,” the elderly lady shouts, turning away dismissively, leaving Allie to wait outside, “it’s for you.”

 

Allie unbuttons her coat and lifts the crying baby from the harness. She hugs her to her chest, feeling as helpless as the child, with no means to feed and change her, to provide warmth and or even dry clothes.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” Kevin says, with an unfriendly scowl. “Go away, Allie. You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“Please, Kevin. We need help. I can’t keep her, and she’s your daughter.”

 

“Bullshit! I’m not the father. I was at the party that night. I saw you flirting with those guys. The brat could be any one of theirs.”

 

The cruelty in his voice is sharp, it tears at her heart like a serrated knife. It hurt almost as much as it had when those guys had held her down, taking turns raping her. She’d been eight weeks pregnant. Kevin’s response had been more painful when she went to him afterwards, expecting help and support rather than accusations of betrayal.

 

“I can’t help you, Allie. Maybe you can find safe haven at Area 52. They take abandoned babies there, no questions asked.”

 

He slams the door in her face and turns the porch light off. A moment later, the garage door closes as well.

 

Wrenching sobs tear through her chest and she eases down to the porch, rocking the baby and unbuttoning her blouse. She’s shaking uncontrollably, from cold, hunger, and desperation. She presses the babe to her breast, though her milk dried up last night.

 

“Oh, Georgette! I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, Gigi.”

 

Allie longs for her mother, for her warm arms to wrap around her and tell her she isn’t alone. But Mom’s been dead these past three years, and Allie is alone.

 

She thinks of her dad, whom she loves dearly, but recalling his extreme disapproval when she told him she was pregnant, and his stern disappointment in his sixteen-year-old daughter, she just can’t face him yet. How could he forgive her, if she can’t even forgive herself?

 

Blinded by tears, by irrational thoughts, Allie pushes herself to her feet, straps Gigi into the harness, and flees into the night.