White Space Season 1

have you up and running within a month.”
    “A month?”
    “Maybe less if your rehab goes as well as we expect,” Thompson said. “You’re in the best hands possible, I assure you.”
    They talked more specifically about his injury, how he might feel phantom limb sensations, and how his amputation allowed for the best possible fit with a prosthetic limb — another ‘lucky break,’ no pun intended.
    The information was flying too fast for the mud in Houser’s mind; a bit much for him to swallow all at once.
    He nearly died. He lost his leg, and was going to get a prosthetic.
    Houser had never been one for self pity. Never one to dwell on his situation for too long, no matter how negative it might be. He lived life always willing to roll with the punches and leap to his feet for a fresh fight and a brand new day.
    This was a setback, sure, but he was alive. He’d get through this.
    Once Dr. Thompson left the room, Houser sat still, considering what might be coming next down this unexpected turn in his life. A nurse brought him a plastic container with ice water, poured Houser a cup, then sat the foam-insulated cooler on the bedside table.
    Houser took a long sip of the best tasting water of his life.
    He wanted, oddly enough, to go back to sleep. But at the same time, he wanted to know everything he needed to know. Wanted to know what was next.
    “You okay?” Jon asked.
    “Yeah,” Houser said. “I hope to hell my insurance covers this shit.”
    “Relax, it’s covered,” Jon said.
    “What? No. I can’t have you paying for this. It’s gonna be crazy expensive.”
    “No, not really.” Jon shook his head. “One of the only good things I can say about my family is that they take care of the people on the island extremely well.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Conway Industries not only owns the hospital, they also pay for most, if not all, of the residents’ health care costs.”
    “That’s crazy. How the hell do they do that?”
    “By making a shit ton of money. They have a lot of employees here. And those who don’t work for them, work for someone who services their employees, so it’s in their interest to keep the island healthy. They’ve been doing it for decades. Wellness programs, free medical treatment, and free and reduced medicine. I’m surprised you never saw anything on the news. Conway Industries was being used by proponents for and opponents of socialized medicine in the last election.”
    “For and against?”
    “Yeah, you know how politics can twist anything to serve any side. Anyway, I talked to Warren and he offered to cover all of the costs related to your surgery and rehab. I’m not sure if he did it to be nice, to try to smooth things over between him and me after our fight, which I’ll tell you about later, or for some positive press, since you’re the investigator who found Emma. I’d guess a blend of the last two, but in any event, you’re set.”
    “Set,” Houser said, settling into his new reality. He finished his cup of water then set it on the bedside table.
    “I’m so sorry,” Jon said. “This never would’ve happened if you hadn’t come here to help me out.”
    “You’re right,” Houser said, in mock sincerity. “So I’d better get a costarring role in your next movie. And not one of those shitty artistic movies, either. I want to be in a fucking blockbuster, with points and everything.”
    “Points? Well, look who’s dropping Hollywood lingo like some kind of player.”
    “Believe it or not, I actually listen when you’re drunk and rambling.”
    The door opened and Cassidy’s face surfaced through the slit, with Emma’s a foot and a half or so beneath. “Is it okay to come in?” she asked.
    “Yeah,” Houser nodded.
    Cassidy handed Jon a bag of pretzels as Emma approached Houser’s bed, her hands behind her back and a huge smile on her face.
    “Guess what I’ve got,” Emma said.
    “I dunno,” he said, playing along. “A giraffe?”
    Emma laughed, scrunching her nose and squinting her eyes. “Noooo,” she said.
    “Um, if it’s not a giraffe, I don’t know. Can I have a hint?”
    “He’s a friend of yours,” she said, her smile giant.
    Houser saw a glimpse of his teddy bear as the girl twisted back and forth waiting for him to guess.
    “Um, is it Billy Wagner?”
    “Who’s Billy Wagner?” she said, the confusion on her face pushing Brock into a laugh. The laughter hurt his ribs. He winced and pressed the button on the