It should have been simple. The lines were all well drawn.
It should have been quick. They’d had dozens of dry runs.
It was, it was supposed to be safe.
They’d been precise. They’d been so careful, but Lonnie was still dead.
Worse, that thing was still out there, destroying people that had nothing to do with their mistakes.
Karen lay fitfully, all but immobilized in the hospital bed. She tried to sob around the multitude of tubes in her face and stewed in relentless regret and self-loathing.
It was supposed to be safe. It should have been anything but this.
Someday far from then, when she could breathe without a machine, she might find the courage to undo what they had wrought. However, for that long sad eternity, Karen floated along on the horrors of opium and memory.