“If these numbers are accurate, and Jackson responds to an increased dosage,” Flannigan said at a slow, thoughtful cadence, “I could buy him three weeks at the minimum. A month at the outside. How did you know about this paper, son?”
“I co-authored it,” I said, and looked around the room while he digested that. “A troop transport to Mars takes just under three months to arrive there. I realize this is probably classified information, but does the military have a magical way to get people to Mars any faster than that? Super secret rockets? Extra-fast delivery modules? Scary experimental shuttles? Anything?”
Uncomfortable silence crackled as the Sadlers shared a pinballing glance. Randall looked toward one of the screens, the one where his daughter Cheyenne watched with pursed lips, and nodded to her.
She nodded back and took a deep breath. “Yes. There is one. It’s had a few test flights to transport officers out to Mars, so they could directly oversee delicate situations and important ops. I’ve spent the last few hours calling in favors and begging everyone I know to get one ready for flight in the next couple days. It can get to Mars in two weeks.”
I gave a low whistle, eyes wide enough that I knew I looked like an idiot. “Two weeks. How the- You know, nevermind. I’m not cleared for that. Pretend I was quiet like I know you want to anyway.”
Randall spoke up before Cheyenne could. “Cheyenne’s got them prepping a flight for launch so I can go to Mars and be with Jackson when he passes. I won’t have my son die without his family nearby.”
“Okay. That’s- Great. That’s great. Let’s go with that.” I waved my hands at him, low and slow, to dismiss and erase the idea Jackson would die. Right now, I couldn’t think about that. Too many problems to solve. Too many steps to prevent it. I needed to focus, not argue about my inevitable widower status. “Doctor Flannigan. If I can get some Trigeneris to you, on that flight, will you agree to give it to Jackson?”
Flannigan had turned around to give orders in the direction of his office door. He turned back when I spoke. “I just ordered a double dose of Regeneris to be given to Sergeant Sadler. Yes. I will give him that dose myself and stay at his bedside to monitor it. Do you give permission to provide your husband with an experimental therapy, knowing it carries a risk and blah blah I get the idea you know more about this than I do. You’re really Sebastian Van Horn? The Van Horn son who dropped off the radar?”
“That’s me. And yes. I give my permission. I’ll sign whatever releases they have here.” I took a deep breath and let it out again, trying to find an approximation of inner calm. “I will get you the Trigeneris, Doctor Flannigan. I’ll send the most updated information on it with the medication, plus a proposed regimen for administering it. Please keep Jackson alive until it arrives.”
“I’ll do my best, son.” Doctor Flannigan gave me a solemn nod that I took as a sacred promise.
“Thank you,” I said. “Will you tell him-” But I stopped. Jackson had left me. I wanted to say,Will you tell him I love him?or even,Will you tell him I’m sending help and won’t stop until he has it?but I didn’t. He might not want to hear it.
The doctor offered a smile. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you,” I said, and nodded to the comms tech. The screen went dark.
Silence again. All eyes remained glued to me. Faces wore expressions of disbelief and exhausted, fragile hope they didn’t dare acknowledge.
“I have a lot to do,” I said into the quiet. “Cheyenne, please, when is the launch?”
“The day after tomorrow,” said the woman on the screen. “That’s the soonest they can get it on the launch pad and ready to go.”
“Impressive. That will be fine. I will get the medicine to your father today. Please make sure the crew has an appropriate storage container ready. Trigeneris is fine at the same parameters as Regeneris.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you.” My attention bounced back to the medical liaison. “Can taxis get onto Fort Carson? Or can I get a lift to the gate, or back to my house? My car is there and I need to drive to Boulder.”
“I’ll call a transport,” the man said. “We can get you back home.”
“I appreciate it. You don’t happen to have any loaner cell phones, do you? It would be much easier if I could call you with information as I get it.”
“I’m afraid all equipment is for military personnel only.” He motioned for me to follow him.
“Naturally,” I said, and fell in behind him.
We’d reached the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Wait.”
I turned around to see Randall, eyes burning with unshed tears and that brittle hope none of the others could hold too tightly. “What is it?”
“This medicine. Will it really save Jackson?” he asked under his breath.
“Yes,” I said. “I worked on it in its early stages. Trigeneris is revolutionary. It was literally formulated for the situation Jackson is in right now. This iswhat it does.If anything can save him, and I believe it can, it’s this drug.”
His hand tightened on my shoulder. Not a threat. A plea for support, for reassurance. “And you can get some?”
To him, those words meant I might take a jaunt up the interstate and hold my hands out like a hungry child. Please, sir, may I have some medicine to save my husband’s life? To me, they meant a drive into the luxurious Hell inhabited by my own personal demons. I hadn’t been home since the day they issued their ultimatum, and even though I’d received the occasional text with a thorn-covered olive branch within it, I hadn’t spoken to them myself since I’d walked away.
I had meant to leave my family behind forever. And to save the man I loved, who didn’t want me in his life, I would drive one hundred miles and face the monster I’d run from.