Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Floros, I want you to take point at the hospital—I’m going to need you out at the crash site with me eventually, but the families are going to want to see someone in leadership, and right now that’s you. Public relations is holding the media at bay, but you know they’re going to ask about toxicology on the pilot. Make sure you know where we are on that. And take Carmichael. I’ll want a briefing from you on the condition of all personnel at twenty-three hundred as well.”
“You’ll have it.” Apollo snapped his notepad shut. The whole situation briefing he’d been praying for anything other than hospital duty. Get him out in the field, let him go over that bird with a magnifying glass and toothbrush, or ask him to grill the personnel on the ground about what they’d observed, and he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out the mission.
But the hospital? Man, this was going to be as brutal as a six-hour climb in the desert, and him with fresh-faced Carmichael with the medical phobia to boot. Carmichael, who needed a strong role model for how to handle these situations, not someone getting overly emotional at the thought of delivering bad news. But even if they didn’t lose a single person—and God knew Apollo was praying for that—lives were still changing today, and most not for the better.
All because something had gone wrong, something that perhaps they could have prevented, and while it would be weeks and possibly months until they knew for sure, Apollo was going to have to live with that guilt. Had they double-checked everything? Had he been too distracted by leaving early for the girls’ performance? Was there something he’d personally failed at in the weeks leading up to the accident? Had the business of messing around with Dylan clouded his focus?
In all his years with the teams, he’d never had a mission fail. Not go according to plan, sure, but never an outright failure. His ability to think on his feet and get out of sticky situations had been legendary. And yeah, he’d had a bit of an ego about that. Never left a single man behind, and he’d been plenty proud of his team’s low injury rate. Cocky bastard. Turned out the only thing worse than not being out in the field, was not being out there, knowing full well that he could be responsible for a catastrophe. It was the worst kind of helplessness, and now he had to head to the medical center, put on a strong front and try not to see himself in the families.
Once at the hospital, it was hard not to flash back to Neal, to those awful hours when he’d been the one in the hard plastic chairs, the one waiting. But he had Carmichael to think about in addition to everything else at the hospital. The kid looked as pale as his hair when they made the rounds in the ICU waiting room, getting updates on the status of the injured personnel.
“You need a coffee, Lieutenant?” Carmichael asked, voice wavering, obviously desperate for something more to do than to stand at Apollo’s elbow.
“That’s an excellent idea.” Apollo forced his voice to be steady and sure, fully in command of the situation. “I want you to get orders from as many people here as you can. It’s going to be a long night.”
That it was, and guilt was threatening to swallow Apollo whole even though he knew it was stupid. Guilt was the most pointless of all emotions, especially when he still didn’t know what to feel guilty about. Action was what mattered here.
“Lieutenant Floros, I need your help.” A nurse in green scrubs whom Apollo had already spoken with several times walked up to him as soon as Carmichael moved on. She kept her voice low and motioned for him to lean in. “I’m very worried about Ensign Lopez’s wife. She has to be at least eight months along.”
The woman in question had been sitting by herself in the corner, quietly weeping, and she waved off Carmichael who’d approached her with his pad of paper for drink orders. She had long dark hair and a pastel maternity dress that matched her pink nails. She was heartbreakingly young, probably around twenty like Lopez. No other family had arrived for Lopez, and she didn’t seem to know many of the others in the waiting room.
“Do you think you could convince her to go with me up to Maternity? Do a quick vital check, maybe get her some rest.”
“Lopez still in surgery?”
She nodded sharply, eyes guarded. “It’s going to be a long night. You might want to ask her if she’s called his folks. They should know.” Her sigh seemed to echo the chill in Apollo’s chest—things weren’t looking good for the young ensign.