The Great Baby Bust: Operation Newborn

Sergeant Milford stood on the sidewalk, staring into nothing. The site was bustling with officers; diverging oncoming traffic, making calls, and – like Milford – just standing there, scratching their heads, throwing careful glances at the bus parked on the street. When the call first came in he’d had to check his calendar but, as it turns out, April Fools Day had come and gone three weeks ago. "I’m just repeating to you what the woman calling in said to me," the operator had said, irritation glazing every word. "She’s likely a code 43. I’ve already informed the psychiatric ward in Longstone and they have capacity, but the traffic cameras confirm that the bus is at a standstill, and has been for several minutes." Milford had sighed, thrown back his coffee, and made a U-turn. 

He’d arrived at the bus station seven minutes later, immediately spotting the young woman standing by the side of the road. She had a harried look on her face and as he approached, he realized that the bundle she was cradling in her arms were, in fact, three screaming infants. He’d put a hand to his gun – discreetly of course, not wanting to spook her, as he pressed the radio at his chest. "This is Sergeant Milford, I’ve arrived at the scene. We have a potential hostage situation." He let go of the radio and called out to the woman. "Ma’am, are you the one who called the police?" The woman turned to face him, face sagging with relief as she took in his uniform. 

"Yes, thank god, you’re here." She took a few staggering steps towards him, struggling with the babies in her arms. "The bus is full of them!" 

Milford cocked his head but kept his facial expressions neutral. Her body language didn’t match the description of someone rapidly approaching psychosis but the panic in her voice was enough for him to remain on high alert. 

"I tried to tell the operator, but she wouldn’t believe me. I’m just trying to get to work, I don’t know what to do!" The last few words came out as a high-pitched cry and the babies startled, going quiet for three blissful seconds before continuing their screaming at full strength. "Can you please take them?" Milford was close enough to see the streaks of mascara having run down the woman’s face as he held up a hand, keeping her at arm’s length. He turned slightly so that she wouldn’t disappear from his line of vision as he approached the bus. The driver’s booth was empty. He let his gaze sweep over the interior of the bus and froze, his hand unconsciously gripping his gun again. There were babies occupying every seat of the bus. Milford’s arms felt heavy with dread as he reached for his radio, his finger slipping on the button one, two, three times. 

"You see? What the hell do we do?!" The woman shouted from outside of the bus, shifting the three babies in her arms while peaking in through the dirty bus window. Milford turned to face the stirring passengers again. They were tiny, probably not older than a few days, and all fully clothed. It took him a few seconds to register that instead of the regular pastel-colored onesies, the majority of them were wearing shirts or blouses. He even spotted a tie here and there. He glanced into the driver booth again, and yep, another baby – this one dressed in the blue and grey uniform of the Transport for London Bus Drivers. He pressed the radio again and cleared his throat.

"This is Sergeant Milford again, we have a situation," he paused, scrambling through the codes in his head. There weren’t any for a bus full of infants. "I need all of our units in the area directed to this location."

"Confirmed, dispatching all units in the area." The line crackled. 

"We might also need a medic, or a midwife preferably.." he paused and scratched his head again. "And get in touch with our contact person at social services. Let them know we will need all of their mobile staff to come here as well."

Fourteen cars had arrived, with an additional three incoming. 

"We need to start calling around to the nearest hospitals, and preschools or whatever," Milford had said over his shoulder to Agent Brooks as she entered the bus, mouth falling open as she took in the babies littered across the seats. One in the back had started crying shortly after he’d called it in, and it had spread throughout the bus like wildfire. The cacophony of crying babies was still ringing in his ears as he stood on the sidewalk, having been pushed aside by Agent Brooks and her team as they started picking up the babies. He hadn't missed the glares as they’d passed him, just standing there, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. 

He turned to face the bus again, the trickle of babies finally coming to an end. They’d been lined up on the sidewalk, wrapped up in the emergency services’ orange blankets. Forty-three of them, all aged between 3 - 5 days, another Agent had informed him. It had been an hour since the woman, who’d tried to leave as soon as she’d handed over the infants to agent Brooks, had called it in and there were still no leads on where the babies had come from. Someone tapped his shoulder, hard. 

"John, John!" He ignored it. Tried to shake it off, to turn around and drag the covers over his head. "John, seriously! Wake up!" He opened his eyes, slowly. "I think my water just broke, we need to get going," Violet said as she climbed out of bed. John closed his eyes again and took in a deep breath. 

"Are you sure?" He said, stomach in a tight knot. He wasn’t ready, he needed more time. 

"Yes, I’m sure," Violet snapped as she headed for the bathroom. "You need to get your shit together John, this baby is coming whether you like it or not," she said over her shoulder before slamming the door. John sat up and stifled a groan. He was so tired. He pushed aside the blue and gray pile of clothes lying in a limp pile on the floor and pulled a stained t-shirt over his head. Where was his goddamn phone? 

"Transport for London, London busses, how may I help you?" 

"Hi," John cleared his throat. "This is driver 4317. I need to call in sick for my morning route today…"