Excerpt
Detour
JANET WILLIAMSCNN BREAKING NEWS REPORT“Scientists have confirmed that a massive piece of Antarctica’s Thwaites Glacier has collapsed. The Thwaites has long been referred to as the ‘Doomsday Glacier,’ because its total collapse could cause a catastrophic rise in sea levels.
“Roughly the size of Florida, scientists first discovered it was losing ice at an accelerating rate in the 1970s. Each year, it contributes to four percent of sea level rise as it sheds billions of tons of ice into the ocean. Its complete collapse could elevate sea levels by two feet, which has the potential to put more than ninety-seven million people in the path of expanding flood areas.
“But the Thwaites also plays a vital role in the stability of the surrounding ice sheets. According to the University of Oregon’s Glacier Lab, a complete collapse could destabilize the surrounding sheets, which has the potential to raise sea levels by ten feet, causing catastrophic global flooding.
“The piece that broke off is roughly the size of Rhode Island and is enough to set off alarm bells in the scientific community that a total collapse could happen in our lifetime.
“And now, as we approach the fall, denim jackets are back in vogue! Here’s fashion correspondent Heather Kane with a special report on the best deals for every style . . .”
EMAILFROM JOHN WARDHere we find ourselves. Ready to embark on a mission that will change the course of history. Not just human history, but our fundamental understanding of the universe. It should come as little surprise that I’m going to be the one to do it.
Which is funny, when you think about it.
Everything on my end is set. I would imagine it is on your end, too. I can say that because there’s only one person in this entire world who I trust.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how this whole thing started.
Before the money, before the contracts, before the spaceships.
I mean the very beginning. Sitting in my bedroom as a child. Lonely, scared. Staring out my window, at the vastness of space. I needed to know what was out there. I needed to know how much bigger things were. It made me who I am. That desire to reach, to seek, to discover—it laid the groundwork for Horizons. For everything I’ve done with my life.
I knew there was so much more beyond what I could see.
We’re ready to go, here. The press conference is tomorrow. Hopefully you see this beforehand. Good luck on your end.
Here’s to changing the world, my friend.
RYAN CRANEHILL EAST, WASHINGTON, D.C.“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”Ryan Crane snapped awake. Purely on instinct, he fumbled for the bedside nightstand, trying to get to the biometric gun safe inside. But as he pulled the drawer open and glanced over his shoulder, the only thing he saw was Nina, on the other side of the bed, curled into herself so tightly she was shaking.
He hit the lamp, casting light into the dim space. Nina’s face was twisted into a rictus of pain. Her skin covered in sweat, her strawberry-blond hair plastered to her head. Ryan reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. She was burning up.
Before he could even ask the question, she groaned and spoke through gritted teeth.
“Stomach . . .”
Earlier tonight, after dinner. Tummy troubles, she’d said. She thought it was gas pains, so she took some Tums. They put the kids to bed, and Ryan left her on the couch with a peck on the forehead so she could catch up on episodes of
The Great British Baking Show and he could get enough sleep for tomorrow’s early shift.
She’d looked uncomfortable, but she shrugged it off as something she ate.
This wasn’t something she ate. She was gripping the lower right side of her abdomen.
Appendix, Ryan thought.
“Mommy?”
Scarlett was standing in the bedroom doorway, her hair hanging in wild tangles, wearing her
Frozen nightgown. She was half-awake and looked more confused than scared.
“Honey, go to Teddy’s room,” Ryan told her. “Stay with him there. Mommy’s tummy hurts real bad, but I’m going to take her to a doctor.”
Ryan hopped off the bed and grabbed a robe to throw over Nina’s shoulders, then slipped a pair of jeans over his boxer shorts.
“Mommy said a bad word,” Scarlett said.
“I’m sorry, love,” Nina said, straining to get the words out in a coherent and calming flow. “Please go to Teddy’s room, okay?”
The little girl shrugged, muttered “Okay,” and padded down the hallway. Ryan couldn’t help but laugh.
That kid. Unflappable.
Nina yelled out again, grabbing a pillow and jamming it into her face to muffle the sound. Ryan pulled his phone from the charger and dialed 911. The call connected, and before the operator could say anything, he blurted out, “This is Ryan Crane, MPD, badge four six nine six. My wife is having severe stomach pain. Most likely appendicitis. We need an ambulance.”
“Okay, I have your address here on Massachusetts Avenue southeast. We’ve had two major emergencies tonight, so it’s going to take about fifteen minutes to get someone out there.”
Ryan sighed. He could get her to the hospital twice in that time.
“Forget it, just notify Carter Memorial we’re coming,” he said, and hung up.
He attempted to guide Nina to her feet, but she could barely move, so he picked her up in his arms, maneuvering toward the door. She felt like a furnace. “C’mon, babe, we’re going for a ride. You love it when I drive fast, don’t you?”
She grunted in response.
At the stairs, he put her on the chair lift—he could dash down, get his shoes on, find his car fob, and be ready to go by the time she got to the bottom . . .
But when he hit the button, the damn thing whirred for a second and then didn’t move.
Great.
“C’mon, sweets, I need you to stand,” Ryan said, easing Nina to her feet and placing her hand on the banister.
“OkaaaaaayyyyyyyyYYYYY,” Nina said, the word morphing into a scream. She gripped the railing like a vise, and Ryan helped her with one hand, using the other to dial his next-door neighbor, Darnell, who answered with a groggy jumble of letters on the third ring.
“I have to get Nina to the hospital. Can you come over and stay with the kids?”
The call disconnected. By the time Ryan opened the front door, Darnell was bounding onto the porch in red flannel pants and a white tank top, nearly every inch of skin on his bulging arms covered in tattoos.
“C’mon, man, out here making me feel bad for not hitting the gym,” Ryan said.
“Told you I’d train you. I think you’re just lazy,” Darnell said. “She okay?”
“Noooooo!” Nina screamed.
“You heard her,” Ryan said. “Check on the kids and I’ll call you in a bit. You good?”
“Whatever you need,” Darnell said. “I’m working remote tomorrow anyway.”
Ryan got Nina down to the curb, and for once, luck was on their side; when he’d come home from the grocery store earlier, he’d found a spot right in front of the townhouse, rather than down the block and around the corner. He opened the passenger-side door and gently lowered Nina into a sitting position, then slid over the hood and hopped into the driver’s seat.
“Always . . .” she said, breathing through the pain, “. . . a show-off.”
Ryan got the car started, made sure the street was clear, and swung into the road, cutting a hard U-turn.
“C’mon, that’s why you married me,” he said.
This late, there wouldn’t be too much traffic; it’d be a quick shot down Potomac, onto 695, straight to Carter Memorial. Five, six minutes tops.
The only challenge would be if another cop saw him. Which reminded Ryan—he clicked on the police radio as he raced down the empty streets. He was met with a burst of chatter; there was a four-car pileup on 295 and a three-alarm fire in Columbia Heights.
That explains that. Busy night for the Metropolitan Police Department.
As Ryan tore through a red light, Nina leaned forward and screamed.
“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Ryan said. “You’re a goddamn warrior queen. You gave birth to two whole kids. Remember Teddy?” Sixteen hours of labor—how could she not? “You handled that like a pro.”
“Certainly didn’t . . . feel that way . . .”
“Well, I was impressed.”
“Yeah, I did all the work.”
“I provided moral support.”
“You did . . .”
Ryan reached over and grabbed Nina’s hand.
“Hey, I love you,” he said.
“Even more . . . than pizza?” she asked.
“Even more than pizza, babe,” he said.
