5 September 2019, Military Hospital, San Diego.
Curt woke with antiseptics which stung his nostrils and gasped. The oxygen tube was uncomfortable, he tried to remove it. His attempt thwarted by a gentle hand.
"Daddy," Jillian's voice broke through the cobwebs.
"Jillian, Pumpkin," he whispered. The youthful face filled with concern. She looked tired.
"Don't talk, Dad, just be still. The nurse will come to help you."
"Thirsty." A glass with a straw appeared before him. Gladly he took the soothing icy water. Tiresome he laid back on the cushions. The worried expression on his daughter's face reminded him where he was.
"What happened?"
"Don't you remember?" Her voice broke. Now he noticed her red swollen eyes, her pale face.
"Pumpkin?"
"Mum is dead."
He gasped in shock. "Mark?"
"He is still alive, but they are not sure if he will make it."