PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

It was a long September morning. The moans that had escaped her lips all night became more frequent as she gasped and grunted in pain, her olive skin now a dull red. As she writhed in agony, she felt as though the pain was wracking through her core and exploding out in the sounds coming from her mouth. She tried clamping her teeth on her lower lip to stop the sounds from bursting forth. She had been successful at first, but the pain refused to shut up anymore. She shook with the intensity.

Even as this was going on, Martha's mind was tossing and turning in every direction. The dark voice she had been trying to tune out without much success came now. It was almost as though the sinister thoughts had taken a form and were standing by her left ear.

'God and all else have abandoned you!'

She moaned in protest, 'No!' She couldn't believe that not now. Not today, when she needed assurance more than ever.

'A stillbirth and you too will sail away in death.' The voice again, but this time, she could almost feel the cold air from its breath on her cheek. She was hallucinating now, and that did not bode well for her condition.

She could not remember a time when she did not have to fight. Martha often humorously said that she had been born fighting and that was the reason for her fiercely independent streak. She had avoided getting too emotionally involved with anyone man until Sosthenes—the man who broke down every wall she had ever put up without even trying. She saw him now in her mind's eye, his rich auburn hair and turquoise eyes. At times, you could swear he had blue eyes, and at other times, they were assuredly green. She had tried to put up a good resistance, but it seemed that whatever she tried to do, he had a mechanism in place to pull it down. It had never been for her, this almost mindless passion that was evoked in those she considered weak, but she was clutching herself and giving in to this pain that threatened to tear her apart. It was love that brought this pain and love that threatened to end her now.

As another tremor ripped through her body, she was jolted back to the present. The act of escapism she had honed in the previous nine months was becoming a danger in her present condition. She had needed the respite from real life to enable her to combat the feelings of betrayal and rejection that had prevailed in the past dreary months.

The contractions were coming more frequently now. There was almost no respite as there had been a few minutes before. She was now frantic, clawing at the end of the sheet that dangled off the bed. She was all alone, and in her frenzy, she could not remember what to do. Those breathing lessons seemed so far away that she could not focus enough to recall any instructions. Martha bit down hard enough on her tongue to draw blood. She tried to stifle a scream, but it was ripped out of her throat in an almost guttural growl. This was one thing she had to see through; she had fought and won before, and this was no exception. She was not about to lose this fightnot today. She had to remember … breathe, breathe, breathe, push!

Another scream escaped her throat. 

Breathe, breathe, breathe, push! It gave a little relief as beads of sweat ran down her face. She took another breath, and everything dissolved.

Blackness.

***********

'Welcome to Oblivion,' a disapproving female voice seemed to boom in her head.

It was a familiar and welcome voice in this place that seemed to be in limbo. She recognized it as the voice of the fight in her spirit—herself.

She wondered out loud as she stood there, 'Not this emptiness. This can't really be all there is?' It seemed that where she came from and life as she knew it had ceased to exist. It was as though she was waiting in line to be born to another existence. They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. As she stood there, scenes of a childhood long forgotten and memories that had elapsed until she had pondered their ever having been reality flooded her like scenes she could touch. It was almost like time itself stood still and allowed her to see her earthly investment of his gifts.

Am I dead?

This thought, like all the thoughts and memories came almost unbidden and refused to stay, but it blew away like the smoke-screen memories in front of her before she could actually catch them.

As the memories and thoughts finally faded into a night of nothingness, she noticed her surroundings. She was standing by the seashore, but she knew this only because the water lapped at her feet. All she could see ahead of her was blackness so thick that she could almost hold it. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a grim shape sailing towards her and was suddenly surrounded by swirling, grotesque shapes. As she tried not to look, except from the corner of her eyes, she could not help but think they reminded her of gargoyles she had once seen on a building a lifetime ago. The lone sailor was close.

At that moment, in timeless space, there was a sudden flicker of light from behind her that was so piercing in that darkness that she turned abruptly and nearly lost her balance. The light grew in its intensity, and voices accompanied it now. It was a mix of strangely familiar voices. It seemed like the light came to look for and rescue her. Just as she was about to call out to it, she felt a boneless hand lay heavily on her shoulders. The lone sailor had reached the shore. Martha opened her mouth to scream, but nothing escaped her lips, and the hand swung her out of the light. She came face-to-face with an eyeless skull, but she could feel the coldness of the eyes that were not there.

"We're losing her," gasped a voice from behind her. She felt like her chest was jolted, and she was heaved away from the cold, hard grip of her marauder. The light was now in her eyes, and her lids hurt. She recognized that she was still in pain, but the edges of the pain had blurred. It was more of a dull throb now. She saw the blur of forms trying to block the light.

She consciously pushed up her lids to faces peering down at her. The dark, almost black eyes came back to life. The effort to keep her lids up became too much, though, and they fluttered closed again. All the while, something told her she was in a hospital.

'She's back, ladies and gentlemen,' boomed the doctor's voice.

She opened her eyes again, and this time, she could see everyone. She looked around and realized what had happened, but something was missing. Something …

She sat up, and everyone heaved sighs of relief and told her to take it easy. They all looked happy enough.

'Where am I? What happened? Baby, where is my bab …?' her voice trailed off.

'Ma'am Congratulations,!' It was the doctor's voice trying to soothe. 'It seemed a very bad situation when the paramedics arrived at the call of an alarmed neighbour. You were found unconscious on the floor of your bedroom with your healthy baby boy heralding himself into the world with very healthy lungs. It was a bit touch-and-go with you for a while there, and we feared losing you …' He exhaled. 'You'll see your boy presently, and I advise you try to rest; it's been quite an ordeal. I am sure your friends will be here later.' As he spoke, he gestured to the crowd to leave with him.

Martha closed her now-burning eyes. 'Life is better than death after all.'

She fell into a dreamless sleep, and it seemed all those other dreams had been the imaginings of a feverish mind.

The mortal eye fails to see

The joy of heaven at one newborn

Equals the conspiracy at work beneath.