A few moments after the hut began its teleportation, Burin pulled me aside. “I don’t know how to bring this up, but we need to tend to your friend. Her wound appears to be festering. And I suspect that’s not the only one. I’ve put her in your room for now.”
I nodded, unsure as to whether I could say anything without freaking out. If Greta’s wound had become infected, it was very possible she could die. We had to do something.
I went into my room alone and took a look, and I agreed with Burin’s assessment. The wound oozed pus and there were others – ripped out fingernails on her other hand, lash marks from where she had been whipped and what appeared to be several patches where the skin had been flayed off – in several places on her body. It didn’t appear that she had been sexually abused, but that was only perhaps because they hadn’t run out of other ideas yet. At least, that was the feeling I got.
My parents had insisted that I learn first aid before I came to Golarion, and I was grateful for that. But the truth was that this was beyond my ability. “I’m not sure what to do,” I said. “I know we need to clean the wounds, probably with strong alcohol, then wrap them in clean bandages. And then we treat the infection. But beyond that, I’m not sure what to do.” I would have killed for a healing cleric at that moment. Or even a couple scrolls to treat severe wounds and disease.
“I think we need to treat the arm,” Burin said. “The jagged wound will cause it to fester again, even if we treat it. But I must admit it’s beyond my skill. And it should be done before we apply healing magic, or we may only cause her to begin bleeding when we treat her. I’ve seen it happen.”
“We need a doctor, or some powerful healing magic. I just don’t know if we’ll have access to either when we arrive, wherever it is we’re going.” I felt like I was going to break down. Should we just clean and dress the wounds, then apply healing magic and hope that someone on the other end of the trip could help her?
“What about the little girl?” Burin asked.
“Terry? What about Terry?”
“She once mentioned to me that she had some practice treating combat wounds. Maybe she can deal with this? At least enough to get us to where we can apply healing magic, I mean. I’m not sure you’ll be able to get her to come help, though. She seems pretty upset.”
“Oh she’s coming to help,” I said icily. “Or I WILL give her something to be upset about.”
“Okay. I’ll start cleaning the smaller wounds with some of this moonshine Chief Kaag gave me while you get her.”
“Thanks,” I said, then hurried off to find Terry.
Terry was sitting at a desk in the library, whining about how unfair the world was. Gregor was nearby, obviously keeping an eye on her, but leaving her to work through it on her own. He was clearly at a loss as to how to deal with her.
“Terry,” I said.
“What? Just leave me alone.”
“Burin says you have experience treating wounds.”
“What? Oh, yeah, I guess.”
“Come with me. Greta needs your help.”
She let her head fall onto the table with an audible thunk. “Why even bother? It’s not gonna matter in the end. Nothing matters in the end. No matter what we do, Typhon will find us again and we’re all going to die. Better to let her die now.” She was looking me dead in the eye when she said it, and she truly seemed to mean it. She really believed that would be a kindness, to just let Greta die.
That was it. All my fear turned into white hot rage. I don’t even remember doing it, but next thing I knew, my hand stung from having slapped Terry across the face with all of my strength. The room was silent, aside from a strangled sound from Gregor. I then spun on my heel and stormed out.
“Where’s Terry?” Burin asked when I returned.
“She’s too busy feeling sorry for herself to give a damn about other people. We’re on our own.” At least I had Cortana. She had a medical database and could easily manufacture much of what we needed. So I set her to work manufacturing scalpels, gauze and everything else I thought I would need.
Finally, I had her load up a how to document on how to perform an amputation on the arm up to the shoulder. Yes, she had one of those. You’d be surprised what kind of information you can find in an information database prepared by a slightly over-cautious wizard.
I did everything it said, from disinfecting my tools to washing my hands and putting on gloves. I had everything laid out, easy to reach. I’d even applied several shots of local anesthetic – after I realized that our medical databases had no data on what amount of general anesthesia was appropriate for a winter wolf of her size and weight because even Daddy didn’t realize we’d need that kind of info – to the affected areas so she wouldn’t feel anything while we worked. All that was left was to actually start.
But my hands were shaking too bad to do it. I just knew I was going to drop the knife, or leave some forceps inside the wound when I closed it. Or accidentally staple my hand to her skin.
“Stop,” a voice said behind me, as I began making the first incision.
I turned. “Terry?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Yeah, I’m here. And good thing, too. The way your hands are shaking, you’re going to accidentally cut off something vital. Like your own hand. I’ll get this.”
“You need to wash up, first,” Burin said. Terry gave him a look. “That’s what the box says to do. So you’re doing it.”
Terry looked like she was going to argue, then thought better of it. “Alright. If the box says wash up, I guess I wash up.”
So, with great relief, I stepped back and let Terry work. Which meant I had nothing to do but worry and give minor assistance when it was called for. It took well over an hour, and at one point we had to give Greta a transfusion of artificial blood. We didn’t have time to worry about whether it was compatible, but Cortana did note that it had been successfully used in both humans and dogs before, so it seemed likely that it was safe. And since the alternative was watching her die, it was the only viable choice available.
I also used up an entire healing wand during the procedure, just keeping her alive. Even then, it was touch and go for a bit. But in the end, she was alive, and it looked like she would stay that way, as long as she could beat the infection. We’d given her a massive – but appropriate, according to Cortana – dose of broad spectrum antibiotics via an IV, but it was still going to be up to her, at least in part.
The lesser wounds were a lot less of an issue, though she required some stitching and medical staples after a proper cleaning. In truth, they were more or less an afterthought, considering just how bad the damage to her arm had been. But Terry took care of them with the same level of focus. I think she was just glad to have something to take her mind off of the encounter with Typhon.
When it was over, I thanked the others, who left me to keep an eye on Greta. I heard Gregor’s voice outside telling Terry she’d done a good job and nodded my agreement, even though no one could see me do so. I would thank her later.
I used my magic to gently clean Greta and our surroundings. Then I sat down in a chair next to the bed and held her hand. I remember brushing a loose hair from her battered and bruised face, then everything got a little blurry.
I think I cried myself to sleep.
I found myself in the Dreamlands, and it was clear that we were doing another one of those weird dreams where it’s tied to one of the strange books I’d read, but I just didn’t have it in me. I just walked off, and the weird farmers called after me like they were surprised I could do that. It shocked them even more when I took off into the sky over the ocean.
I thought I saw something strange swimming in the water, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to go somewhere I could be alone.
Or mostly alone. Nebula was with me, flying at my side. After a bit, she told me to turn, saying she sensed something and that it was important that I go that way. I didn’t have it in me to argue. Between Greta’s injuries and the sheer force of Typhon’s mind when he’d hit me with that spell, I felt defeated. How could we possibly stand against something like that, no matter how important it was that we do so if he came again?
The ocean gave way to plains, which in turn gave way to hills, which then became a desert. Not the kind with the massive sand dunes, but like Arizona, where my grandparents live. All rocks and dirt and cactus. And it was hot, which fit the environment rather well.
And the weird thing was that as I traveled into the desert, I heard music. It was faint at first. But as I continued, it became louder. There were instruments, but also a woman’s voice. She wasn’t singing words, but carrying the tune, her voice an instrument all its own. And the music sounded familiar. I knew I’d heard it before. But where?
And then I remembered. It was from some old western movie. But how could it be here? And why? I was desperate to find the answer. I poured on the speed, flying ever faster, until at last, as the music reached its crescendo, I crested a hill and saw him.
He stood there, dressed in a black duster, a wide brimmed cowboy hat keeping the sun out of his eyes. He had a bandolier, and a pair of pistols hanging from his belt, the glint of the steel visible even at this distance. That music with that look, in this place, meant it could only be one person.
“Daddy!” I cried, as I flew to him and threw my arms around my father’s neck.
He looked surprised, a bemused smile framed by his neatly trimmed goatee. But it took him only a moment before he wrapped his strong arms around me. “Hey there, pumpkin! Surprised to see you here,” he said. He looked over my face. “Something’s wrong. Come, let’s have a seat over here on this rock and you can tell me all about it. We have some time before high noon yet.”
“High noon? What’s at high noon?”
He grinned, giving me a look like it had been a silly question. “The shootout, of course.” He paused. “On that note, if they show up early, I want you to go stand in that weird discolored spot over there.”
I looked where he was pointing, and there was actually a spot where the rocks weren’t the same color as the surrounding ground. “Okay, but why?”
“It’s a fold in the dreamstuff. I made it myself in case I needed to hide. You’ll be able to see out, but they won’t be able to see you inside.” You can do that? Huh. Apparently where I had played around in the Dreamlands, he’d studied it in case he might need to know something later.
I actually used to think this man was lazy. I thought he spent all his time playing video games, watching TV or reading, with the occasional bout of work interspersed therein when he had a flash of inspiration. But when I’d learned the secret of who he really was, I discovered that he spent at least ten to twelve hours a day working and still made time to spend with his family. It made me feel so lazy by comparison, but he liked to say that I put as much effort into enjoying myself as he did working, and that there wasn’t really anything wrong with that.
I nodded my understanding. “Who are you fighting?”
“The ships that are attacking us are apparently run by networks of organic brains. Apparently that’s why they’re attacking us. They want our brains to use as processors.”
“That sounds like something out of some bad sci-fi. I’d feel awful if I wrote a premise that bad.”
“I know, right? But hand to God, it’s the truth. From what we’ve managed to glean, their creators feared artificial intelligence, so they created these cyborg computers as an alternative. Then the computers decided they needed more processing power and turned on their creators. Seems like they’ve been a menace to the galaxy ever since.”
“And they’re in the Dreamlands?”
“I dragged them here when they tried to attack me psychically. I’d already prepared a battlefield to give me the advantage if it came to something like this.”
I looked around. “I don’t see anything that looks prepared.”
He grinned. “You’re not supposed to. Now, tell me all about what’s been going on with you. I received a report that you were in Irrisen on a quest to break all sorts of laws, that you and your companions had assassinated a powerful official and then committed Grand Theft Chicken Hut. Any other crimes I should let the lawyer I retained for you know about?”
I giggled at the way he had phrased it. “What’s the word for killing a priest? And a bunch of giants?”
“I think it’s just called murder in the former case. Lenn would call the latter ‘a good day’s work’.”
I’d met Lenn, one of my parents’ old traveling companions, back in Magnimar, where he ran the Adventurer’s Guild. He made pro-basketball players look small. It still amazes me that someone that big hates giants as much as he does.
“Well, I’ll be sure to give him a full recounting when I get back to Magnimar.”
“Where are you now?”
“In the hut. No idea where it’s currently taking us, though last time it went to Iobaria. We’re following Baba Yaga’s trail, since she might be the only one who can stop her daughter, Elvanna, from covering the world in eternal winter.”
“I’m sorry you have to do that, pumpkin. I should be there to deal with Elvanna personally. She’d be unable to complete her plan after being ripped to shreds by gunfire.”
I shook my head. “You’re busy. Sometimes others have to step in and help. It’s just my turn is all.” I sighed. “It’s just… we kinda got our butts handed to us. I think we’ll be fine shaking off the loss, but it has hurt morale.” I snorted derisively. “No, that’s not it. I’m pissed. We had to run! There were four of us, and even Irori’s Herald showed up to help, and we still had to run! We should have been able to tear Typhon Lee’s smug head off!”
The horrified look on my father’s face sent a shiver down my spine. “Did you just say ‘Typhon Lee’?”
“Yes… why? What’s wrong?”
“That’s going to take a moment to… crap. They’re here. Get to the hiding spot and don’t come out no matter how bad it looks. Trust me, I have everything under control. We’ll finish this conversation in a moment.”
I ran over to the spot he’d told me about. When I stepped inside, everything outside faded a bit, and the color became washed out. But he was right, I could still see everything. And what I saw was creatures from nightmares – masses of teeth and claws and muscle unlike anything I’ve seen before – flying through the sky at my father.
But what I heard was a triumphant theme begin playing. And then I heard Daddy’s voice as it boomed over the fields. “Pardners, you’ve been bird dogging my town for far too long. It’s time to show you just what kind of sheriff you’re messing with. IT’S HIGH NOON!”
He whipped out his guns and began firing, but instead of bullets, massive beams of light easily twenty times the diameter of the barrel shot out, tearing the monsters from the sky. But even as fast as he was taking them out, more kept coming.
Then two of the cactuses tore themselves out of the ground and grew to fifty feet tall. “NEEDLE SPRAY!” they roared in unison, unleashing shotgun blasts of foot long needles into the swarm.
Then a cow’s skull rose into the air as shadows enveloped it. It settled into the rough shape of a man with a cow’s skull for a head. “Need a hand?” it asked, then reached out, and thorny vines shot out from its hands, yanking two monsters from the sky and slamming them into the ground with massive force.
More and more creatures appeared to help. None of them were real, not in the normal sense. As far as I could tell, they were imagination made manifest. I could do it a little, but nothing on anywhere near this scale. I suspected that he’d been watching Godmother do it and had worked it out on his own, since she didn’t like to teach much about that kind of thing.
But even then, his creations were taking as good as they were giving. One by one, they fell. In the end it was just Daddy versus one massive creature that looked different than the rest. More like a brain, actually.
“You put up a good fight, I must admit,” the creature said as Daddy dodged an attack of its psionic tendrils. “But it’s over. Today, Earth’s greatest warrior falls, and your people will become a part of us, now and forever. You shouldn’t have fought. It would have been less painful if you had submitted. You never had a chance to beat us, even here.”
“Blah, blah, ‘resistance is futile’ and all that. But you’re wrong. I’m not Earth’s greatest warrior. That title belongs to either my wife or my sister, and both of them are still out there fighting to protect my body from your little minions. Hell, I’m not a warrior at all, truth be told.”
“Oh, I’ll bite, then. What are you, exactly?”
Suddenly, a bunch of words appeared in the air around Daddy and the music which had changed at the beginning of the conversation, hit a crescendo. I think I could only see the words and hear the music because I was in the dream fold, which altered the light and sound, so the enemy didn’t notice them. At the very least, the enemy didn’t react to it.
Next to each word was a floating button. They looked like old Playstation buttons. He could press ‘X’ for ‘Gun’, Square for ‘Persona’ and several other options. But he reached out and slapped the Triangle button, whose corresponding word was ‘Juiz’.
“I’m an engineer,” Daddy quipped as the monster began shaking furiously.
“NO! THIS CANNOT BE!”
“You’ll never see it coming!” Daddy sang out as the monster writhed and roared. “You’ll see that my mind is too fast for eyes! You’re done in! By the time that it has hit, your last surprise!” He continued, doing a victory dance as the form of the monster collapsed in on itself, imploding into near nothingness before plopping to the ground with a wet sound.
Then he kicked it off into the distance, where a sentient cactus picked it up and ate it.
He grinned at me, and I ran over to him. “What was that?!”
“Good question. Juiz, what did you do?”
A voice spoke out of nowhere. “My investigation of the Harvester ship led me to discover that they use a form of gravity control to maneuver their vessels. I – to use the vernacular you’ve taught me – turned their gravity generators up to eleven.”
I was missing something. “How?”
Daddy laughed. “Apparently it never occurred to them that I might be wearing a telepathic interface connected to an AI’s blue box processor when they attacked me. Juiz rode the psychic link they’d created while attacking me into their network and looked for ways to bring down the ship. I’d hoped we could take it intact, but I trust her judgment that this was the best course. Juiz, what’s the situation outside?”
“Fighting is fierce, but I predict that there is a ninety-nine percent chance that your wife and sister will succeed unscathed.”
“What’s the percentage drop if I contact Aurora so she can say hello to Lyriana?”
“Processing. Effect on outcome marginal. Making connection now.”
I heard a voice. “Kyle, you should have seen it! The whole thing collapsed in a few moments and crashed to the ground. It made a massive sinkhole! All that from something the size of a car.”
“Size of object most closely correlates to a Nineteen Ninety Seven Ford Aerostar,” Juiz offered helpfully.
“Damn, now I really wish we had taken it intact. Oh well. Honey, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”
“Oh? Samantha show up or something?” Her voice was a bit strained, like she was talking while fighting.
“Not exactly,” Daddy said, nodding at me.
“Hi, Mama,” I said.
“Lyriana! Baby, what are you doing there?”
“I was just dreaming when the cat I adopted – or maybe who adopted me – said there was something over here I should see, and there Daddy was.”
“It’s good to hear your voice, baby,” she said.
“Yours too,” I replied.
“How is everything?”
“Some good, some bad. Overall, though, I think we’re winning,” I said, despite still not feeling it.
“Good. Never give up. Found anyone special?”
I suddenly found my face hot from blushing. “Maybe,” I said.
“I look forward to meeting them. Hey, I’ve gotta go. There’s one of those twenty foot tall mutant things of theirs heading this way, and if I don’t go, your aunt Kira will kill it all by herself. Love you, baby,” she said.
“Love you too, Mama. Can’t wait to see you again.”
“Just as soon as we’ve finished this war,” she promised.
“I’ll talk to you in a bit,” Daddy told her. “Lyr needs a bit of advice.”
“Don’t take too long or you’ll miss all the fun.”
“I won’t, dear.” He closed the link and turned back to me. “Okay, so tell me exactly how it is that you ran afoul of Typhon Lee.”
I nodded. “He seems to be working with Queen Elvanna, though I think he might have come after us anyway. He seems really upset with one of my companions, a girl named Terry. I think her last name’s Guiser, if that helps”
“Terry Guiser? Wait, that doesn’t make sense. Terry Guiser is a man.”
“No, I’m pretty sure she’s a little girl. Hell, our dwarven wizard, Burin, even calls her ‘little girl’ all the time.”
“Did you just say Burin? A Burin of Clan Frostfist?”
That surprised me. “Yes, I think that’s his clan’s name. Why?”
“You’re partied up with a girl claiming to be Terry Guiser and one of the demon prisons known as Burin… what’s next, a secret duke of Cheliax?”
“No, I don’t think Gregor’s a duke. In fact, he grew up as a monk studying under someone named Sergei.”
His eyes went wide. “One of Sergei’s disciples?! Pumpkin, you really know how to pick a party.”
“You know Sergei?”
“Not personally, but he did a few favors for the Rangers in the last decade. He’s a good man.”
“He’s dead,” I said. “Gregor is the last of his order, and says that they were killed by what he calls, ‘the man who would not die’.”
“‘The man who would not die’, eh? What did they do, run afoul of Rasputin or something?” He laughed bitterly at his own joke. “Kidding, of course. Whoever it was probably had some kind of magical protection or regeneration. If this enemy shows up again, you’ll need to figure out what you can do to bypass or negate his protections. That’s your job as a wizard.”
“Right. So what about Typhon Lee? How do I deal with his protections?”
“Typhon’s a very powerful spellcaster, and more than that, he’s a psychic caster. You may have noticed that he didn’t use any words or motions when casting?”
“Yes, I thought that was weird.”
“He doesn’t need them. He casts entirely with his mind. That’s his weak point. He needs to maintain focus and composure. Make him angry enough, or better yet, afraid, and he’ll have trouble controlling as much power. You may even be able to cut him off from his strongest tier of spells. Aside from that, treat him as the most dangerous foe in the room. Hit him, and hit him HARD, with everything you have. Don’t try to attack his mind. Attack his body, and don’t give him a chance to dodge or react.”
I nodded. “Anything else?”
“He’s smart. As a spellcaster, he’ll see you as the most potentially dangerous foe. He’s going to try to take you out of the fight somehow. Do what you can to shield your mind.” That made sense. Whatever he had done had weakened me, likely to try to prevent spellcasting. No reason he wouldn’t try again, but maybe this time attacking my intellect. “But don’t count on anything focused on protecting against alignment to help you. He doesn’t seem to have one.”
“That makes no sense. Everyone has an alignment.” It was one of the immutable rules of the universe. Your choices shape you just as you shape your choices.
“I don’t know how, all I know is that he’s found a way to transcend it.”
“And what about Terry? She seems to know him.”
“I’m still not convinced that’s the Terry I think it is, but now that I think about it, Terry was said to have a daughter who’d be about thirteen now if she survived when Typhon murdered Terry’s family. Maybe she did and is now using her father’s name? I’m having trouble remembering her name, but I think it might have been Emily.”
“I’ve heard that name before. Terry was talking with a dwarf named Pops and it came up.”
“That’s probably it, then. Be careful with her. If she really is Emily, this has to be hard on her. And she can’t be in the best state of mind.”
“I guess I’ll have to apologize for slapping her,” I said.
“What?”
“Long story.” I decided to change the subject. “So, how do you know so much about Typhon, again?”
“I spent about a decade trying to decide if I would need to do something about him and his syndicate. Actually, truth of the matter was that I’d finally decided that he needed killing right about the time it was reported that he had been killed by one of his own hitmen.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I had it planned out and everything. He’d have been dead before he knew I’d even started attacking. The only thing slowing me down was that I wanted to transport over a couple Night Witches in case he somehow managed to survive my initial attack and tried to escape using that dragon power of his. As London taught us, dragons aren’t a match for modern air superiority.”
“So you can beat him in a fight?” That made me feel a lot better.
“If I get the drop on him and planned the whole thing? Absolutely. Even in a “fair” matchup, with my normal daily complement of ‘just in case’ combat spells, he’d have to kill or incapacitate me in the first six or so seconds or I’d still have over a three to one advantage, based on everything we know for sure and many of my worst case assumptions.”
“That is pretty good.” It still meant Typhon was an insanely dangerous threat, since there were entire countries who Daddy wouldn’t give that high a chance of winning against him. But it definitely made me feel like things were gonna be okay.
“It really is. So don’t seek a fight with him. Be ready if it comes, and if it doesn’t, well, I’ll let you watch as I rip him apart on a molecular level for hurting my baby girl.” There was absolute rage in his voice I’ve never heard before and his teeth were bared in a display of aggression. Then he drew back and smiled. “Until then, I’ll stop by and have the Rangers start making so much noise in Irrisen that he will be too busy to follow you, assuming he really is working with Queen Elvanna. And if that doesn’t work, then Xin’Shalast will go to war with Irrisen. And if that isn’t enough, the Rangers will dismantle his organization one bombing at a time, IRA style, though perhaps with a bit more precision and mind to civilian casualties.”
“You’d do that?”
“Absolutely. Your mother would never forgive me if I didn’t. So don’t you worry too much about Typhon Lee. Prepare just in case, of course. But I suspect he’ll be too busy to chase you for a good while.”
I hugged him. My parents were probably insane, but they were mine, and they were just the best. But there was one more question I had to ask. “Just how is the war going?”
He sighed. “Better than we’d feared, worse than we’d hoped. Juiz’s latest estimate puts overall casualties at about four billion by the end of the war, after our victory today. Two of the three major Harvester ships in the US have been destroyed, so America will likely get off rather light. Areas with dense populations but less developed militaries or plagued by civil unrest in the previous decades aren’t going to do well. Europe and Africa are taking the brunt of it, though mainland Asia isn’t faring well either. China and India are holding their own as best they can, but there are so many people in each nation that it’s impossible for their casualties not to be in the hundreds of millions.
“Israel and Iran pulled out the nukes early, and while they’re incapable of damaging larger Harvester vessels, they can do enough damage to the smaller ones that they’re likely safe until a larger vessel is done with the more population dense regions and can head that way. And when we crippled the mothership in space, they seemed to have decided to hold back some of their larger ships as defenses, so some countries I expected to be hit haven’t been yet.”
“You’ve destroyed two ships?”
“Two of the large ones, yes. Though I had nothing to do with the other one. Someone managed to create an insidious little device and smuggle it aboard one of their vessels. It caused a massive chain reaction in the ship’s power core which absolutely destroyed not only the ship and the city beneath it, but has rendered everything in a hundred mile radius uninhabitable due to the radioactive waste it shot off. Albuquerque was never a nice city, but damn, it didn’t deserve that. Nor did the million or so refugees who had sought safety there.”
“Oh my god!” I gasped.
“The worst part,” he said, snorting derisively, “is that he might have been right to do so. And I think someone may have helped him. I have reports that one of the people seen sneaking onto the ship was a drow.”
“Where would he have found a drow on Earth?”
“I know, right? So, when the government arrested him, I had the mastermind remanded to my custody. If he knows something we don’t, or even if someone,” he looked around, giving me the impression that he suspected Godmother’s involvement, “pushed him into it for reasons we can’t know, then I can’t exactly fault him. So, for now, I’ve got him locked up somewhere secure as a ‘technical consultant’. I’ll have to figure out what to do with him after the war.”
“You have a lot on your plate,” I said, amazed at how he could keep up with it all.
“Always. But I always have time for my little girl. You’ll have to introduce me to that ‘someone special’ sometime.”
“Her name’s Greta, and we’re sort of married. Well, at least, that’s what my Whitethrone fake ID says.”
He laughed, for once it was genuine and filled with amusement. “Guess that means I’m going to win the bet.”
What?! “Bet?”
“Your mother was sure that you’d find a way to come home pregnant despite being on highly advanced birth control.” She what?! “I think she was just hoping for a grandchild, though.” He hugged me again. “Alright, pumpkin, I really should get going. Your mother and I love you very much, and I promise we’ll see you again just as soon as we can.”
“Love you, too,” I said. And then he was gone.