Pear cut the baby away with the sheep shears. She called Dice to carry Queen through the twilight to his room. When his door closed, Pear almost bit my ear, whispering. “Take my car,” she said. She pressed keys into my hand. Her eyes blinked out of time with each other as she spoke. “Go to the pharmacy. I don’t care how you do it, ask for antibiotics, ask for help with a miscarriage.”

My heart was in my throat. I could only follow orders; I didn’t consider the consequences. I didn’t consider whether Dice would be angry. I found Pear’s old maroon car, which had been parked by the humanure pile so long I didn’t know whether it still worked. I surprised myself by remembering to adjust the mirror, remembering how to shift the seat forward. It had been less than a year since I’d last driven. But it seemed wrong how well I remembered.

And then I was down the bumpy path at full speed, launching off the gravel, my headlights rollicking through the trees. I turned left, as I remembered Bay and Dice had. Pear’s car had a clock. It was 7:03. I wondered if I’d find an open pharmacy at this time of day.

I drove eighty miles per hour, veering so quickly around turns the car seemed to go up on two wheels. I would not hit a deer. I would not be stopped by the police. I was driving for Queen’s life, and for my own: I had to get back before anyone noticed. The world was bending to me. I pulled up to the Ingles pharmacy, the same Ingles where I’d gone Dumpstering with Bay.

The pharmacist wore a white lab coat. She had powder-blue nails and a soft, pink face. She looked nervous. I was glad she was a woman. Her name tag said Annie.

“Please, I have a question,” I said. I tried to imagine what Dice or Bay would say. But I felt winged, godlike, deranged with urgency. This woman, Annie, would not be able to stop me from taking what I needed.

“Something like fever, green face, bleeding, and miscarriage—what would you prescribe for that?”

Each word I added seemed to alarm her more. She backed away from the counter. “A doctor,” she said.

“Please, Annie. I need the medicine.” My voice kept getting softer and softer, dying in my throat.

“I’ll get my manager,” she said.