Ultraviolet Catastrophe

“Have you seen my dad? What’s going on, Dr. Rosen?”

He avoided my eyes. “The project team was ordered to do a pre-test on the wormhole machine. It looks like someone rigged it to explode when it was fired it up. You’re dad’s been seriously injured, and Life Flight is on the way. I’ll take you to him.”

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt paralyzed, my whole body unable to move. “Was anyone killed?”

He frowned but shook his head. “Another ten or so were injured, but none as badly as your dad.” He nodded toward the back of the building. “Let’s get you over to him.”

I glanced at Asher, and my face must have betrayed my fear because he pulled me even closer and rubbed my shoulder. My brain wasn’t working. Dr. Rosen’s words did cartwheels as I tried to focus.

My skin went icy, despite the sunshine. We were right. Branston had someone on the inside. Oh my god, this was all my fault. We should have told someone.

Asher took my hand and led me forward. “Come on, Lexie.”

The Rosens pushed through the crowd toward the far end of the building where three scientists streaked with smoke struggled to put up a tent over the people stretched on the ground.

I had to turn away from their bloody faces and sobbing moans. “Where is he?” I whispered.

Dr. Rosen led me to a shady spot where a stretcher was set up beneath a tree. Two doctors I recognized from the medical wing worked over him, strapping him down to his stretcher and trying to stop the bleeding. Blood had soaked through the thin fabric of the blanket covering him, turning it rust-red where it had started to dry. I bit back a sob and dropped to the ground beside him. I was terrified to touch him, but he was so still, so pale I needed to make sure he was alive.

My fingers trembled as I brushed some of the dust from his face. I let out a breath of relief. His skin was still warm, though his eyes were closed and his breathing harsh and labored. “What happened?”

Dr. Rosen shook his head. “We don’t know yet. Jordan said one second everything was going according to plan, and the next the machine was overheating and just blew. Your dad was closest to it.”

The throb of a helicopter grew close, kicking up wind and debris, and I tried to shield Dad’s face with my hands. I wanted to curl up against him, to protect him with my body, but I felt so helpless and alone. Tears welled, but I wouldn’t let myself cry, not until I knew more.

A stray piece of paper skittered across the ground, and I froze. It flapped for a moment, stuck against a piece of grass, and the image of the Branston logo seared into my brain. Then it was gone in another gust of wind from the chopper.

And I wondered if I was going crazy.

“What can we do, Lexie? What do you need?” Asher asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see how scared I was so I shook my head.

“I don’t know. I just need to focus on my dad right now.” A thought surged through me. Mom. I needed to tell her what was going on. But I still hadn’t heard from her after leaving my panicked voicemail this morning.

“Lexie, the medics are here. Let them get your dad on board, and I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Asher pulled me away, and I got to my feet.

Three men sprinted toward my dad, carrying medical kits and a stretcher. They started working on him immediately, trying to stabilize him and stop the bleeding. They were fast. In a matter of minutes, he was hooked up to an oxygen machine, stuck with an IV, and pumped full of drugs. And then they were wheeling him away to load him onto the helicopter.

“Come on — let’s get to the hospital.” Asher tried to put an arm around my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.

“I have to stay here and help until the rest of the crew is stabilized,” said Dr. Rosen. “I’ll get to the hospital as soon as I can.” He smiled encouragingly, though the lines around his eyes had deepened and his skin was pale. “Hang in there, he’s going to be all right.”

I nodded and let Asher lead me to his car. He opened the door for me, and I slid inside, automatically snapping on my seatbelt. The sleek car jumped into gear, and we sped toward the hospital. Asher paid no attention to the speed limit, and we took the curves down from QT faster than the speed limit but not nearly fast enough for me.

“What were you doing here? I thought you were working at home this morning.”

He slanted a look at me but didn’t take his gaze off the road. “I don’t know. I just had this sudden urge to come find you.” He shrugged. “Yeah. Weird, I know.” Another pause before he asked, “So, do you need to call your mom?”

I sniffed. “Yeah. I just don’t know what to say to her.”

“Tell her she needs to get here. That’ll be enough.”

I dialed her number and was almost happy when I got her voicemail again. All I had to do was leave a short message. Dad’s in the hospital. Not sure what’s going to happen. Get here as soon as you can. Not the most cohesive message, but it was about all I could manage. I didn’t know how I was going to do this. I needed her here with me.

Asher glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Hanging in there?”

“I’ll be better when I know my dad’s going to be all right.”

The car surged forward as Asher stepped on the gas.

23

Asher spent the entire afternoon with me in the surgery waiting room. I didn’t want to think too closely about the fact that his presence helped more than I would have expected. As the hours went on, time stretched into an unendurable nothingness where it no longer had meaning or feeling. Where there was nothing else but the TV blaring on the wall and the comforting feel of Asher’s thigh against mine.

Max and Zella showed up mid-afternoon, rushing into the room with worried faces and cups of coffee from Coco’s.

“Have you heard anything yet?” Zella asked, sitting across from me in one of the cushioned chairs.

I shook my head. “The OR nurse checked on me about an hour ago. They were still working on him. Evidently, there is still shrapnel from the machine in his abdomen. He’s lost a lot of blood.” I gratefully took a sip of the coffee and cradled the warm cup in my icy fingers. “What have you heard about the accident? How’s everyone else?”

Max nodded. “They’ve moved all of the injured to the hospital and are saying they should all recover in a few days.”

“This is all my fault. We should have told someone about the calculations being wrong. We could have stopped them from doing this test.” My voice cracked on the last word, and Asher’s fingers brushed my wrist, reminding me he was there. Maybe if we’d told my dad, Branston wouldn’t have been able to do this.