“Ya, he’ll be a dawg fo sho.” The gruff voice was the only one heard in the silent ICU nursery in the infant ward. As Carlos stood there watching his newborn son breathe through a ventilator, he determined that his son would soon grow to take his place within the gang.
The hospital was in his territory and the thought of insurance or payments never occurred to him. His lieutenant would take care of everything through their security guard contact. His baby would be able to stay until his condition was stable enough to return to the mother and he would begin instruction at the age of five. Carlos had plenty of children through various women, but this child came from the woman he loved.
“What’s his name?” A nurse said, walking in from behind him.
“Dunno, and it doesn’t matter. He’ll be known by his marks.” Despite knowing the nurse, personally, what was left unsaid was for her protection. He would be known by his distinguishing features - tattoos of identification - and he would be known by his actions left on the city.
To do anything besides leave a mark would make him weak. Carlos didn’t have weak children. Each of them was bred and raised to continue the tradition and mission of the gang. If not, they were cut from the group without so much as proper last rites. His family would be strong - his family was born strong.
One nameless baby born into the world.
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Across the city, in a reputable hospital, screaming could be heard throughout the birthing center. A mother was in the final throws of childbirth and the pain would soon be over.
“Breathe!” A nurse said. “It’s almost over, just stick with it!”
“I can’t!” Screamed Amy. She had had enough. Thirty-eight hours of labor had ended in one long, agonizing delivery process, and she had nothing left to give. “It’s no use, I have nothing left!”
“You can do it,” the nurse exclaimed, “the head is almost out!”
After another five, seemingly-endless seconds, there was a cry that sounded different than all the others. Her baby boy, wet and dirty, had just shouted his first words to the world. As he was fully delivered, the nurse quickly cleaned him and brought him around so Amy could see him.
“He’s beautiful,” panted Amy.
“What will you call him?” the nurse asked.
“If I knew who his father was, I’d give him that name. But I don’t, and it all just seems a waste now.” Amy had gone back to ask each of the guys that she knew she had slept with, but none would say anything to give her much hope. As she sat silently in despair, she contemplated any reason for continuing on.
“She’s losing a lot of blood!” the nurse shouted into the hallway, trying to attract more attention into the room. They were so busy and short-staffed, so any help that she could find would be distracted. She quickly ran into the hall to get a doctor, but as she returned, there the baby lay, silently on his mother’s still chest.
Another nameless one.
