Chapter 3 - The Cold ReceptionThrown unceremoniously onto his knees on the sterile linoleum floor of Wakeview Medical Center, Preston gasped for air, frantically straightening his rumpled suit.
"Have you all lost your minds?!" Preston shrieked, looking up at the towering, uniformed men surrounding him. "I'll have every single one of you court-martialed! Do you know what kind of legal connections my family—"
"Shut your mouth."
The voice was quiet, yet it carried the crushing weight of an avalanche.
From the shadows of the corridor stepped General Martin Hayes. His medals clinked softly with every deliberate step. He looked down at Preston like a boot looking at a cockroach.
Preston swallowed hard, his voice suddenly trembling. "G-General Hayes... sir. I didn't know you were back from deployment. There must be some terrible misunderstanding. I was just at a family function..."
"A family function," Martin repeated, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. He suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Preston by the throat and slamming him against the reinforced concrete wall. The impact knocked the wind completely out of Preston.
"You left my daughter on a kitchen floor while her placenta tore away from her womb," Martin snarled, his face inches from Preston's terrified eyes. "You ignored her calls. You told her she was a burden. And while you were sipping champagne celebrating your mother, my daughter and grandchild were dying."
"I... I didn't know!" Preston choked out, clawing desperately at the General's iron grip. "She always exaggerates! How was I supposed to know it was real?"
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Martin slowly released his grip, letting Preston slump to the floor, gasping and coughing. The General wiped his hands with a clean white handkerchief, as if touching Preston had contaminated him.
"You weren't supposed to know, Preston. You were supposed to care. Now, you will pray to whatever God you believe in that my grandchild survives. Because if that baby dies, your life on this earth is officially over."
