I’m almost certain they have killed him. I wish it was me instead and not because I’m some martyr. No, this feeling is purely selfish. I’m heartbroken, and I’m also jealous because if he really is gone, he’s in a far better place. He made this dark fortress filled with evil bearable, in the loosest sense of the word, because I’d had his company. If I have to wait to be rescued one more day without him…I don’t want to be here at all.
Darkness is setting in. Growing hoarse from calling to him for hours, I’m finally forced to accept the answering silence as fact.
I’ve lost him too…
I haven’t cried—not since Mullins—but finally, I break. Alone in the bleak reality of isolation, I feel a false sense of security and let go. Deep guttural sobs wrack my body. With no relief as the anger builds, I cry out, no longer caring who hears me. “Just fucking kill me too!” I shout. “Please, for God’s sake, take me too.”
No one answers.
That night I walk in a pasture filled with horses, next to a little boy with amber eyes and a dazzling smile. He leads me to the edge of a field as he points to the setting sun and tells me I’m free. So I run, and he runs with me.
Chapter Eighteen
Briggs
Soft, muffled cries fill my ears, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am, but the smells of urine and death are a swift reminder. The bunker.
I try to lift my head—to open my eyes—but my body won’t cooperate. The pain is unbearable. Scottie’s crying. She’s crying for me, and there isn’t a damned thing I can do to comfort her.
She’s slumped against the wall, face bloodied and eyes closed. She’s lucid as she calls for me, and I’m physically unable to do a thing to let her know that I’m alive. I listen to this go on for hours until I finally pass out.
A stream of sunlight lights our cave. It’s morning. Another morning in hell, but the pain that I feel in every cell of my being lets me know that I am still very much alive.
Peering across the room, I find Scottie asleep in a familiar position, her head resting on bent knees. Even in sleep, her body shakes with her cries.
I can’t take it anymore. I know that she needs sleep, but I can’t let her believe that she’s alone another minute. “Scottie,” I croak. It’s weak, and she doesn’t budge. “Scott!” I manage to whisper-shout, and it fucking hurts. Everything is on fire.
Her head jerks up, and she squints to adjust her eyes to the dim morning light. “Briggs?”
I clear my throat. It feels like sandpaper. “Scottie…” I hardly recognize my own voice. It’s weak and filled with emotion that I’m not accustomed to.
Her face contorts from confusion to a relief that takes what breath I have away. Tears stream down her blood-covered cheeks as I fight like hell not to look away from her. She’s hardly recognizable. I can’t imagine I look much better.
I wince as I try in vain to move toward her. “I’m here.”
Relief rolls down her cheeks, and everything I felt being drug up that ladder comes back full force—respect, awe, admiration, and something I have no right to feel but can’t fight for a second longer. I’ve been fighting it since the first night I laid eyes on her. Right or wrong, I feel it, and something in her expression tells me she does too. Right or wrong, something is shifting or has shifted, and I don’t want to lie to myself anymore. That fight is gone.
“I thought you were…I thought you were g-gone. Fuck.” She shakes her head as she laughs without any humor. “I wanted to die. I asked to die. I didn’t want to be here without you. It’s wrong, isn’t it? I wasn’t thinking of anyone but you.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. “Katy…” I swallow back more emotion than I thought I was capable of. “You did good, Soldier.”
Her blonde head moves side to side, doubting. “You’re really here?”
“I’m here, Scottie. I’m really here.” I have this overwhelming urge to wrap her up in my arms. To press my lips to hers. To feel the warmth of her body against mine. The fact that I can’t—that even if we weren’t in these chains, I still couldn’t—it’s a pain far worse than anything I’m physically experiencing. I’ve gone and fallen for this woman. She’s married, with a child, and we are facing almost certain death.
Life really is a motherfucker.
“You…” She swallows, allowing her every emotion through for the first time since we’ve been in the bunker. Eyes locked, she conveys more in those seconds than I could hope for. I pray for the first time since we’ve been captured that I’m not imagining any part of our time here.
She sniffs and shakes her head as she breaks contact and then looks back over to me, her silence deafening.
“I know,” I whisper softly. “I hear you.”
If my calculations are anywhere close in range, it’s the week of Thanksgiving. And I know with certainty, despite the pain, despite the setting, I’ll have a prayer ready if we make it through one more day. My prayer will be selfish—sinful even—and I know it will go unanswered, but I’ll pray for it anyway. I’ll pray for my own glimpse of heaven. I’ll pray for her.
Chapter Nineteen
Briggs
I watch her sleep on and off for the next few days. She’s been slurring through her words, and my fear is a concussion she may not wake from. I doze in and out, cursing my body for being so weak. She didn’t even rouse when Hiyam washed her, and that act in itself has me on edge. Day by day, I see her wasting away in her tattered uniform, and after nearly two months, I’m convinced we’ll never see the light of day again. Lips parted, she hangs deathly still in her shackles, as if she doesn’t have the strength remaining to right herself. Inside my chest beats a heart hanging on only for her. I want out of this fucking hell, but I refuse to stop fighting because she’s still breathing. I will her to open her eyes because I need to hear more of her plans. I need to see the fire in her eyes when I get fresh; I need to see her smile, even if it’s short-lived.
I need her.
I need her, and she won’t fucking wake up.
“Scottie,” I plead. I watch her until my eyes start to lose focus, searching for any sign of life.
“Come on, Scottie, move for me. Move. Please,” I croak as my heart shatters in my chest. “Come on, Scottie, goddamn it, please move for me.” I watch her hands, her chest, and I can’t be sure if they move or if I’m imagining it, which slowly drives me to the point of madness.
“Scottie!”
Her brows draw together as if she’s in pain, and I let out a breath of relief.
“Stop,” she whispers as if irritated with me. I can’t help my relieved chuckle. Even half-conscious, she’s a spitfire. I learned quickly her fire comes from being fiercely protective. That was the easiest thing to discover. Self-preservation flies out the window when it comes to protecting those she cares about. Mullins’s death will haunt her all the days of her life; I have no doubts about that. But she saved us both and bought us time, though she’ll never see it that way. Exhaustion I can no longer battle sets in as she slowly opens her eyes and licks her lips.
“How long was I out?”
“Jesus,” I say, choking back more relief. “Two days. How do you feel?”
“Thirsty.”
“Hiyam should be down soon; it’s been a while. We’ve been upgraded to half a potato and beans.”
They’ve been feeding us better the last three weeks, which makes me equally as suspicious as Scottie’s recent bath. My fear is that we’re both about to be exchanged—me for my death and her for a fate far worse. Swallowing, I bite back my fear.
Scottie’s eyes drift shut, and it’s all I can do to keep from protesting. She needs the sleep to heal, and I refuse to deprive her of it. The more she sleeps, the longer she’s unaware of where we remain trapped. Confident she’s out of danger, I finally let my eyes close to join her.
“No!” Scottie’s voice jars me awake. It’s early morning, and the sun’s just begun to filter into our cave, casting a soft glow. The sounds of wild dogs barking and bombs exploding in the distance isn’t enough to muffle her cries. She must be having a bad dream. Once my eyes have adjusted, I realize she’s no longer chained to the wall across from me, and my heart begins to flood with dread.