“Uh, does caffeine still affect you?”

“Don’t know. I hope so, or I’m really going to be pissed.”

Kemp chuckled and stood. “All right, Ivan. Let me know if anything comes into focus for you, okay?”

“Will do, doc.”

Kemp walked slowly out of the sick bay. Not since his first days as an intern had he felt so completely helpless.

24.The Way Things Must Be

24.The Way Things Must Be

Ivan reached for the keyboard for perhaps the tenth time. After a second, he withdrew his hands. He read what he’d written so far.

Dear Judy,

Well, it was a start. Of sorts.

How do you tell your wife that you’ll probably never see her again? How does she explain to your kids that daddy won’t be coming home, ever? Millions of people had faced this or similar dilemmas through history. Maybe not exactly these circumstances. But still.

Maybe start with facts.

We’ll be quarantined at the Lagrange Four Naval base. So far, no one else has caught it. I might end up being the only victim.

Victim. There had to be a better word. He didn’t want to make it sound like he was dying. But did it matter? He wouldn’t be going home. Even if he did, how would she react when she saw him? How would his children react? Would they cower? Run? Scream? Ivan put his face in his hands. He’d rather be dead, right now, than have to experience that.

At least he wouldn’t be leaving them destitute. He had to hold onto that. He could endure anything if they were okay. Even never seeing them again.

Ivan looked up at the ceiling and took a shaky breath. He missed crying.

He flipped to another window, one showing the official paperwork from the auction house and the Mad Astra. The number was staggering. Not quite infinite money, but unless Judy wanted to buy an island or something, there would be no more worries.

The thought brought peace, of a sort. He’d always said he would die for his family without hesitation. In a backhanded way, this situation could be looked at like that.

He resolved to hold onto that thought as he continued writing.

The process is complete. There’s no ME left. Judy, I don’t know what they can do at this point. Maybe if they can contact whoever did this. But how?

We can still talk, and we can still email. But I remember the look on your face when I showed you my hand. I can’t bear to see that look again. I want you to remember me with the face you’ve always known. I don’t want this new face to be how you think of me.