Was this his fault? He had urged Erin to visit the clinic several days ago. She’d waved him off. Should he have insisted?
“We’ve got her on an IV at the moment,” the doctor continued. “We’ve given her various medications to combat pain and fight off infection.”
Bennett couldn’t take it any longer. He had to know. “Dr. Kwamee, what exactly does my wife have? Do you know for sure?”
“Not entirely,” the doctor replied. “We’re still running blood tests. For the moment, we’ve identified two issues, and one is compounding and complicating the other. But I want to be clear with you, Mr. Bennett. We’re living in a petri dish here in this camp and in this region. We’re dealing with challenges we’ve never seen before, on a scale never before imagined by the medical community. All I’m saying is that there could be more issues than what we’ve identified so far. We won’t know for certain for another few days, until all the blood work is completed.”
For crying out loud, Bennett screamed inwardly, get on with it. It was all he could do not to grab Dr. Kwamee by the lapels and shake him until he cut to the chase.
The man now took a deep breath and set down his notes. “To begin with, your wife has a severe case of bacterial meningitis,” he said quietly. “The truth is, she’s lucky to be alive.”
Bennett tried to stay calm. He had a flood of questions but no idea where to start. His expression apparently conveyed as much, and Dr. Kwamee continued.
“Streptococcus pneumoniae—or pneumococcus — is a bacteria that can cause meningitis, a very serious medical condition,” he explained. “If not treated quickly and properly, the condition can be fatal. I will be frank with you, Mr. Bennett. For the first few hours, I had my doubts. It was touch and go for quite a while. It would have made all the difference in the world if you had brought her in a day or two earlier, but even so we may have caught this thing in time.”
Another wave of guilt washed over Bennett. Could he have done more? Should he have rushed her to the clinic right from the beginning? Erin had begged him not to. She’d insisted she’d be fine. Should he have forced her to see a doctor?
“We have your wife on some aggressive antibiotics right now,” the doctor went on. “I feel fairly confident we’re going to see her fever come down over the next twenty-four hours, especially as we get her fluid levels back up. We’ll know more then, but she will probably be fine, barring some unforeseen complication.”
Bennett didn’t like what he was hearing. Fairly confident? Probably be fine? Unforeseen complications? Those were hedges, not ringing votes of confidence.
“But you’re sure she’s going to be okay?” he pressed.
“I think so,” Dr. Kwamee replied. “Almost definitely.”
Bennett’s stomach tightened. Language like that wasn’t helping. “How long until she’s back on her feet?” he asked.
“Assuming all goes well, I’d say the symptoms should last for about seven to ten days,” Dr. Kwamee explained. “She’s going to need a lot of bed rest. A lot of fluids. I’ll give her something to manage the headaches and fight off the fever. But I’d say within two weeks she should pull out of this.”
Two weeks? Bennett felt a lump forming in his throat. “What’s the second issue?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.
“I have to be honest with you, Mr. Bennett,” the doctor explained. “Given your wife’s medical condition, it’s not what I would have suspected.”
“What?” Bennett asked. “Is it serious?”
“Yes, I’d have to say it is pretty serious,” Dr. Kwamee replied.
“Just say it,” Bennett insisted. “I have a right to know.”
“That is true,” the doctor said. “You do.”
There was another long, unbearable pause, and then the doctor said, “Mr. Bennett, you and your wife are going to be parents.”
Bennett froze. What? Had he heard the man right?
“You mean, Erin’s…”
He was so stunned he couldn’t finish the sentence, but Dr. Kwamee nodded anyway.
“She and I…”
The doctor nodded again.
“You’re sure?” Bennett asked, incredulous.
“Positive,” Dr. Kwamee assured him.
“But how?… When?”
“The how I’ll leave to your own imagination,” the doctor laughed. “As for when, sometime next May, it would seem.”
Bennett did the math. Eight months. He and Erin were going to have a baby in eight months. He stared at the man in utter disbelief.
What he wanted to ask was, “Does the world even have eight months?”
What he actually asked was, “What about the meningitis?”
“I’m not sure about that quite yet. I suspect everything will be fine. I have no evidence that your baby won’t be completely healthy. But I don’t know for certain at the moment. We’re going to have to monitor that, run some more tests. Like I said, I think we caught the problem in time. But the first trimester of any pregnancy, as I’m sure you are aware, is a very sensitive time, and the fact is we just won’t know the impact that your wife’s illness has had — or is going to have — on the baby for some time.”
“Are we talking days or weeks?”
“One day at a time, Mr. Bennett,” Dr. Kwamee said, looking him straight in the eye. “But we might not really know for certain until next spring when she delivers.”
“Does she know yet?” Bennett asked.
“No, not yet,” Dr. Kwamee said. “She’s still sleeping.”
Bennett took a deep breath. “May I see her?”
“Soon,” the doctor replied, glancing at his watch. “Let’s give her a few more hours. She’s had a rough night.”
Bennett thanked the doctor and then stepped away to collect his thoughts. His hands suddenly felt cold. His entire body began to shake. A torrent of emotions was forcing its way to the surface, and now a dam burst within him. He backed into a corner and in the shadows began to sob. He pleaded with God to forgive his lack of faith. He pleaded with Him to forgive his cynicism and fear. And he kept saying thank you, overwhelmed by grace he didn’t deserve, favor he didn’t merit, blessings he hadn’t earned, love he had no idea how to reciprocate.
He felt so deeply unworthy. Why him? Why now? Why had he been blessed with such an amazing woman of God? Why had they been chosen to serve together, in the eye of the storm, in history’s last days? None of it made any sense. It was too much, too fast, and Bennett suddenly found himself petrified at the thought of doing something or thinking something or saying something that would somehow bring shame and dishonor to the holy and precious name of Jesus, to the God who had rescued him from the small and worthless dreams he had once held so dear.
11
Lieutenant General Charlie Briggs was winding up a very long day.
A four-star with nearly three decades of service defending his country, Briggs had been the commander of NORAD — the North American Aerospace Defense Command — and U.S. Northern Command — more commonly known as USNORTHCOM — at Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs for nearly three and a half years. No one on active duty had more experience in defending the American homeland than Charlie Briggs. But even as he heard the sirens go off in the Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center, all he could think was, Why had some knucklehead scheduled an exercise and not informed him?