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A löngu síðan á Íslandi ..... [8]

 
Silja Henningsdottir's picture
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Six months later....

“We have our deadlines, Doctor Malansky.”

Dr. Helen Phillips peered over the top of her clipboard at her colleague.

“Now, if the Mortensson woman can’t provide us with a viable foetus, by that I mean one at least six months old.....  Instead of miscarrying at half that time, I can not see us being able to report our success to Our Benefactors.”

Dr. Malansky sighed. “It is obvious to me that Frú Mortensson carries an exceptionally pure DNA. Why do you think we are stuck on this damned forlorn island, Helen? The Icelanders tend to have the most pure form of DNA due to their Scandinavian heritage and the fact that thankfully, not many people decided to migrate here over the centuries. We must persist with the Mortensson woman. Her daughter is years away from sexual maturity.”

“She’s been here six months and in that time she has miscarried twice! Now we have to wait another six months.. IF.... and I mean IF.. she does not miscarry again..  Really, do you think Our Benefactors are going to continue to pay your generous salary in the face of such failure?  This will not DO !   Is this woman the only one on this damned island we can use?”

Dr. Malansky turned to peer into the data screen; he stared long at the readouts. He wondered how Miss Prim and corporately squeaky clean Phillips would like to be force fertilised hours after miscarrying.. Twice!

“There are other women.... But right now Frú Mortensson is the only one we can work with. You do realise we are working behind a facade here. We can just walk outside and pull in the any vaguely......  “

Malansky stopped himself from using the term Aryan.  “Any passing woman. Imagine how the Icelandic authorities would react, or the American military, for that matter, if they REALLY knew what we were up to ?

Dr. Phillips pushed her black rimmed glasses back up her nose, “We try once more with Frú Mortensson. If that fails, we move on to her daughter. Our Benefactors demand results, and results they shall have.”

Dr. Malansky screwed his eyes shut, he knew that the Mortensson woman would not survive another miscarriage anyway, the woman was thirty-four, and her organs had been under so much stress. He secretly wished for many forms of misfortune to visit themselves upon this bitch Phillips.

 

Silja sat by her mother’s bed, her mother was not well at all. Silja was blissfully unaware of the privations that her mother had undergone at the hands of Doctors Malansky and Phillips. All Silja knew was that her Momma, once strong and full of vitality was now a shadow of her former self. Silja’s face furrowed as she tried to think of ways to help.

“Teddy says we can get some soup tomorrow, Teddy knows the kitchen guy, Teddy knows how to say please. Don’t worry Momma. I bring you some food soonest, hmm?

Silja’s Momma reached up weakly to touch Silja’s wonderful blonde ringlets, she forced a smile. “Yes, elskan. You and Teddy look after Momma. I’ll be right as rain in a couple of days”

Björk knew she was lying as she reached up to kiss Silja’s irrepressible grin “Go to bed now. Let Momma rest, hmm?”

She watched as Silja bounced onto her own bed, carrying Teddy with her. The teddy now was looking shabbier each day as Silja bore him around the camp. They would be away hours charming and scavenging around the camp to find enough food for herself and her Momma. Momma half laughed, half sobbed, and turned on her side, she reached between her legs where she had felt dampness earlier

 

Björk Mortensson screwed her eyes shut after she saw the blood on her fingertip. She knew something was very wrong down there. She wondered about her darling Silja. Who would look after her? Who would keep her safe when her mother was no longer there to do so? Björk stopped herself from crying, she knew she was dying

Comments

Subdane's picture

((Now I feel all sad...But I'm happy that you chose to continue this story.

Joe Spivey's picture

((Yes, the story is very sad and made all the more heart wrenching because we know there is even more sadness to come for little Silja.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Aiidoneus's picture

Sad but very good writing. //

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