Mary-Sue pulled out her squarest-looking outfit, the sedate black dress she’d worn to her father’s funeral, resenting that she was being coerced into wearing mourning clothes to greet her new daughter. She had originally planned to wear her favorite sweatshirt and blue jeans to the airport, but goddamn the president of the United States. She stood outside her second bedroom, which had been painted pink and turned into Kate’s room, trying to picture what her life would be like in twenty-four hours. No more lonely nights. Saturdays and Sundays staring out into nothingness—those were luxuries she could afford to miss. Trips to the toy store, the park, the dentist, errands that would give her no choice but to get herself organized. A little voice calling her “Mommy” might finally force her to give a shit.

Sometime close to dawn, the phone rang. She damn near jumped out of her skin. Cursing like a trucker, she picked up the receiver and croaked: “Yeah?”

It was Myrna LaBoeuf, weeping:

“There was a crash.”

Mary-Sue sat up. She gazed at her clock. It was 5:07. Her blood froze.

“What? When?”

“About . . . six hours ago.”

“Six hours ago? Why the hell didn’t you call me then?”

“We only just heard ourselves . . . The army . . . it’s classified, hon . . . The plane crashed right after takeoff, nobody knows what happened . . . Some are saying it mighta been sabotage . . .”

Mary-Sue took a deep breath.

“Were there survivors?”

“Yes . . . but . . .”

“Did my Katie make it?”

“I don’t know, hon. I really don’t know anything at this point . . . They said . . . They said there are tiny little bodies . . .” her voice broke, “strewn all over the Mekong Delta . . . Oh God, Mary-Sue, I am so sorry . . . I am so sorry . . .”

The C-5A Galaxy was the largest cargo plane of its day but it was still just a cargo plane, which meant that it came with no seats and none of the safety provisions found on a basic passenger jet. Moreover, many of the babies were so small that seats were of no use to them anyhow—they were placed in boxes with only faith and fate holding them down. The nurses and attendants were outnumbered. Soon after takeoff from Saigon, one of the Galaxy’s doors popped open, and the pressure inside the cabin plummeted. Witnesses said they saw infants and babies being sucked out of the plane like rag dolls. The pilots managed to turn the plane back toward Saigon but it missed the runway, crashing into rice paddies near the Mekong River and breaking into four parts. Mary-Sue never saw the worst pictures, nor did any American without top-level clearance—almost all the photos were destroyed by the US Army. The ones released showed only the survivors.