Falling

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  One of the soldiers shook his head.

  “He didn’t make it? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. He’s dead,” another of them shouted over the roar of the engine. “He was in the helicopter when it came down. We lost both him and the sniper.”

  “Shouldn’t we get him? His body?”

  But when Isobel followed Alexander’s gaze back toward the village, she knew it was impossible, that it would be suicide to go back there. Besides, she had seen the fire. No one could have survived that.

  “Now,” a soldier yelled.

  “Who was Tom?” Isobel asked as they rattled on at breakneck speed through the desert.

  “He led the operation. David Hammar’s friend. You met him, at the wedding.”

  “Oh, God,” she said, her hand going to her mouth.

  People had died to save her. Tom and another man in the helicopter. Maybe people in the village. There had been women and children there. Had any of them died? That wasn’t an easy thing to bear. She fought against the wave of nausea that had started to well up.

  “Lexington was a soldier,” the driver said over his shoulder as the car lurched forward. “He knew the score. Our mission was to get you out. It was a success.”

  Isobel squeezed Alexander’s hand, still couldn’t believe it was true. So many people had worked together to get her out. And Alexander. Here, in Chad. She leaned against his shoulder, allowed herself to shake along with the car, thought that a little bit of pain medicine wouldn’t have hurt, now that the adrenaline had started to leave her body. She coughed. Drank slowly again.

  “How did you find me?” she asked after a while. The whole thing still felt surreal. Shock. She was probably in shock.

  “Marius, he saw them take you. He found us in N’Djamena.”

  “What was he doing in N’Djamena? It’s so dangerous.” Had he walked all the way there from Massakory? It took grown men thirty hours to walk that far. Was he hurt? “Where is he now?”

  “He’s back at the base. You’re not going to like this, but Tom tied him up in one of the cars. They’ll let him go soon.”

  “If he helped you, it’s going to be dangerous for him. He has no one to protect him. He’ll die.”

  Alexander squeezed her shoulder, carefully.

  “I know,” he said heavily.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when they came out onto a wider road and picked up speed. She wondered how Idris was, but even she could see that they couldn’t go to the hospital right now. She would just be a burden.

  “My brother chartered a private plane. They’re taking us there. It’s medically equipped, and it has its own staff. We’ll get on board and get the hell out of here as quickly as possible.”

  She stared out the window. Made her decision. It was set in stone. “Marius has to come,” she said, and fixed Alexander with her gaze. His face was dirty, and she could see days of stress forming taut lines. But he nodded.

  “We’ll go get him.” He gave an order to the soldier driving the car.

  They made a sharp U-turn and Isobel relaxed.

  Leaned back against the seat. Closed her eyes for a few seconds. She would just have to hold it together awhile longer.

  * * *

  As the car braked in a cloud of desert sand, the sun had just started to rise, painting the dunes in vibrant red and orange tones. Isobel and Alexander hurried out. One of the soldiers followed them, muttering that they didn’t have time for this shit. The other one remained in the car, the engine running. When they reached the parked jeep Alexander said with a frown, “He’s not here.”

  “What do you mean?” Isobel asked, worry shooting through her when she saw that the car was empty. “Where is he?” she asked the soldier.

  “He was in the car, tied up.”

  Alexander scratched his dusty stubble. “Well, now he’s gone.”

  “Where can he be?” Isobel looked around but saw nothing but sand, dunes, and a rising sun. No footprints, no trace of a small boy.

  “We have to go,” the accompanying soldier said, impatience in his voice. “It’s too dangerous to stay out here.”

  “We can’t leave without him.” Isobel’s voice almost broke. She couldn’t, just couldn’t go home, not knowing he was safe.

  Suddenly she heard the soldier rattle his weapon. “Don’t move,” he snarled and at the same time Isobel saw them. A man with a child at his side. Muhammed. The man whose child she hadn’t managed to save. And Marius was beside him, looking small and tired and scared.

  “What are you doing with the boy?” Isobel said as fear snaked up her spine. Why had Muhammed taken Marius? “Lay down your weapon,” she snapped over her shoulder at the soldier, who ignored her completely and continued to aim straight at Muhammed.

  “What are you doing with the boy?” Muhammed asked, his eyes intent. The tattoo moved beneath his clenched jaw. A wind made his clothes billow.

  Marius looked at her, his eyes huge, his frame shaking. She just couldn’t lose him now. She lifted her arms, showed her palms.

  “I want to take him with me. Please don’t hurt him.”

  “You left him in the car. Tied.”

  “I’m so sorry. That was wrong. But no one will harm him, I promise.”

  Muhammed’s grip on Marius’s shoulder didn’t loosen. God, please, please, don’t let Marius get hurt. Please.

  “Ma’am. I can take him down.”

  “Do not shoot, do you hear me? Alex?”

  “Nobody shoots,” he said, his words those of a commander.

  “What are you planning to do with him?” asked Muhammed, drawing Marius closer.

  “I want to give him a future.”

  He gave her an angry look. “Like you did with my son?”

  “No. A better future. In my country, where children don’t die like that. Please.”

  Their eyes locked over the Chadian desert. A proud, angry, grieving father and a desperate healer. And then the miracle happened. Muhammed slowly released Marius and the anger seemed to leave him. “Go with her,” he said roughly, looking at Isobel as he carefully nudged Marius toward her. “Take care of him.”

  “I will. Thank you, Muhammed,” and then she had Marius in her arms, hugging him tightly, feeling him cling to her. “Thank you,” she repeated, tears in her eyes.

  “Good-bye, Docteur. Go with God.”

  * * *

  An hour later, they climbed on board the waiting private plane. Marius held Isobel’s hand, tight. Alexander disappeared to talk to the pilot as they taxied out.

  They had removed some of the seats and replaced them with a stretcher, and instead of newspapers, soft drinks, and trolleys of duty-free goods, Isobel saw first aid items and painkillers. A nurse offered to help her, but she tended to her injuries herself, and then saw to Marius. He was undernourished and dirty, but his lungs and heart sounded good. She pulled a much-too-big sweater over his head and wrapped a blanket around him. After that, she changed clothes herself—pants, a T-shirt, and a warm sweater—and then they were given soup to eat, served by the silent, efficient staff. She laid Marius down on a row of seats, put a blanket over him, tucked him in, awkwardly and with inexperienced hands, but with an ever-increasing protective instinct.

  His eyes drifted shut and she said, “Sleep now. I’m not going anywhere.” She nodded to the nurse, who sat down next to the boy to watch over him.

  Alexander came back. He had taken off his helmet and protective clothing, and he handed her a bottle. “Drink. It’s some kind of nourishment.” He waited as she tasted it.

  “Isobel?” he said after a moment.

  “Yes?” She wiped her mouth.

  “I love you, in case you haven’t already figured that out.”

  She gazed up at his dusty face. His blond hair was covered with sand and dirt, making his blue eyes more piercing than ever. No desolation in them, just heat and determination. And so much love. Her heart swelled; it was almost too intense. She simply answered, “I lo
ve you too. So much.”

  His eyes glistened and his throat worked before he said, with a hoarse voice, “I’m glad. And you aren’t just saying that because I saved your life, are you?”

  She smiled. “I am grateful that you saved my life. But I already loved you before that. A lot.”

  He took her hand and kissed her palm, sending warm rivulets of pleasure through her entire system.

  “What do we do with Marius?” She glanced at the sleeping boy, the problems already starting to mount up in her mind. He had no papers, no passport. Could a child seek asylum? Had she done the right thing, tearing him away from everything he knew?

  “It’ll be okay. We’ll refuel in Switzerland, land in Sweden, and then we’ll work out all the paperwork when we’re back home. I promise, Isobel, that whatever happens, I’ll fix it.”

  He made it sound so easy. He bent down toward her and gave her a dusty, stubbly, heartfelt kiss, and she decided that, for once, she would believe that when someone promised something, they would keep their promise. She pulled his head toward her.

  He made a pained sound.

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “I suppose I should’ve said something, but I just wanted to get you out of there as fast as I could.”

  “What happened?”

  “We were supposed to get a happy ending—”

  He held up a hand and studied it grimly. It was covered in blood. A stain was spreading quickly over his stomach, up toward his chest. His face grew pale. “It must’ve started bleeding when I took the flak jacket off.”

  “Are you hurt?” She leaped up from her chair. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Some dumb macho thing, I guess. Pretty stupid. Sorry,” he repeated weakly. And then he collapsed.

  Chapter 64

  Alexander tried to focus his eyes. Isobel’s worried face hovered above him. She was covered in Band-Aids and bruises, but she was alive. He had saved her. That should even up the score despite all his sins. His throat burned, but he had to say it before it was too late. He could hear a roaring noise around him. He had a vague feeling he should be able to identify the sound. Thunder?

  “I love you,” he croaked. It hurt when he talked. But it hurt when he didn’t, too, so he continued. “You know that, right?” Or had he already said it? Everything was so fuzzy in his head.

  It was of great importance that Isobel knew. That he loved her. That she was the best thing to ever happen to him.

  “Yes, Alexander,” she said, her voice sounding oddly amused.

  A blessed, cool hand touched his forehead. He wanted to tell her that her hands were the finest, smoothest hands there had ever been. He blinked slowly. Her face floated round, round, round.

  “I love you,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

  “You’ve said that twenty times now. If you don’t calm down, I’ll have to stop the morphine. And then it’s really going to hurt.”

  “Ah, is that why I feel so good? I thought it was love, but it’s morphine.” He grinned. “I love morphine.”

  Isobel’s mouth twitched, and Alexander already knew he would do anything in the world for that smile.

  “I think I got a little shot up,” he said. “Maybe someone should take a peek. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “You had a serious bullet wound,” she said. “I took out the bullet and sewed you back up.” She touched his forehead again. He had to find a way to get her to keep doing that, it felt so good.

  “I was bleeding like a pig,” he mumbled.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  Her face floated away.

  “Did you fix me up?”

  Her face came back. A lamp came on behind her and made her look like an angel. His angel.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Lie still, I need to give you an injection.”

  He lay still, obedient. Something struck him. “If you sewed me up, I must’ve been pretty bad back there.”

  “Yes, Alex, you were.”

  The lamp disappeared and everything started to shake. “Where are we?”

  “The plane’s going to land at Arlanda Airport soon. We’re home.”

  “Isobel? Answer me honestly now.”

  She nodded.

  “Will I make it?”

  Her eyes glistened. “Yes.”

  “And you’re okay?”

  “Yes. Just grazes.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No, I promise.”

  “Can I tell you something? That I never told anyone?”

  “Whatever could that be?” There was a smile in her voice.

  “I love you.”

  She leaned forward, put her soft lips against his, and whispered, “Yes, I know. And I love you.”

  “So, what do you say? Should we live happily ever after, then?”

  “Yeah, it feels like it’s about time.”

  Alexander closed his eyes. Thought that he should have told her he loved her. But satisfied himself with having plenty of time to do it in the future. The rest of his life.

  Chapter 65

  “How are you?” Natalia asked as she stepped into the hallway and gave Alexander a hug. He held his dear, elegant, big sister tight for a moment longer. She had called him every day the past six weeks, but she looked happy now that the danger had passed.

  “Come in. No pain, but I have an impressive scar. My girlfriend gave it to me. Want to see?”

  “No, thanks. Keep your clothes on, please. My interest in scar tissue is pretty much zero. We’ll just have to make sure to avoid any more gunshot wounds in the future—you’re getting unbearable. Did Mom arrive already? She said she’d be here early.”

  “She’s in there. She picked Eugene up from the station. Now she’s helping with the food.”

  “She is? Helping?”

  “Do you think maybe she switched places with an alien?”

  “Well, my little brother went to Africa to save his girlfriend from desert rebels, so I pretty much believe anything.”

  Natalia moved farther into the apartment, toward the murmur in the living room, and David, who had come with her, stepped into the hallway and shook Alexander’s hand.

  “I’m glad you’re well too, and I don’t want to see your scar either,” he said. He had Molly in his arms. She studied Alexander, her pacifier bobbing up and down in her mouth.

  Alexander stroked his niece on the cheek and said, “Thanks. Listen, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I want you to know I’m so sorry Tom can’t be here with us.”

  “Thanks.” A shadow passed over David’s face. Telling his brother-in-law that Tom had died in the helicopter crash had been one of the hardest things Alexander had ever had to do. He knew Tom’s death had really thrown David; the two men had known one another for a long time. They were all shaken by the loss.

  Isobel, who’d held it together during the flight, had a tough time after she got back home, when the trauma of the kidnapping caught up with her. Natalia, Peter, and David had taken care of everything those first few days. Filled out papers, made calls, and overcome bureaucratic obstacles. Made sure Isobel met a crisis team. Made sure Alexander was treated rapidly and got back on his feet. And that Marius felt safe. But it was Isobel who had suffered the longest and the most deeply. She still had nightmares and episodes of anxiety, depression, and flashbacks, but they were gradually shorter and she was headed in the right direction. Or, as Leila said, it took more than kidnapping, mercenaries, and explosions to break Dr. Sørensen.

  “Tom was a warrior. He knew what he was getting into. It’s awful, but I can’t really talk about it yet. Sorry.”

  David’s eyes grew shiny. He gave Alexander a pat on the shoulder and followed his wife into the apartment. Alexander watched him put an arm around Natalia’s shoulder and press his lips against her dark hair. Natalia’s gold bracelet glistened, and she put an arm around his waist, strong and supportive.

  Alexander heard another knock at the door and t
urned to open it again.

  “Hi, Gina,” he greeted his next guest. “Welcome to my place.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She seemed composed, but he suspected she was nervous.

  Peter was behind her, helping her take off her jacket and handing it to Alexander. Alexander hung it up and then let his gaze follow Gina, who was already talking to Natalia farther down the hall. “So, you two are together now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s too young for you.”

  “I know,” Peter agreed. “Too young. Too good. Too everything. She’s starting her third semester soon. If I’m lucky, she won’t get tired of me.”

  “I hope you’re lucky, then,” Alexander said honestly.

  “Thanks, Alex. Gina is really looking forward to seeing your Isobel. She talked about it the whole way here, how much she admires her. She’s clearly something special.”

  “Yeah, Isobel is special. One of the really good ones. You’re not the only one with a woman you don’t deserve.”

  They eyed each other. Peter looked younger somehow, not weighed down as he had been all these years. Not so rigid.

  And then Peter pulled him into a hug, and they embraced for what might have been the first time ever. A tight hug that represented reconciliation, goodwill, and a future.

  Alexander cleared his throat. Peter quickly wiped his eyes.

  “Right,” said Peter.

  “There are drinks and food back there,” said Alexander. “Just help yourself.” He wanted to add something else, something about how both he and Natalia would be there for Peter if he needed them, something about how Peter had never looked so happy during all the years he was married to Louise, but the moment came and went too quickly.

  Peter nodded and went to join the others. Since all the guests had arrived now, Alexander followed after him. He looked around.

  Everyone was here. Or everyone who meant anything on a day like this, anyway. Mom and Eugene. Blanche. Leila. Even Romeo, who had flown in from New York with his new boyfriend and refused to let Alexander serve anything but the food from his restaurant. Åsa and Michel, tanned and in love after their honeymoon. And then the children, of course. Marius and Molly. Truly, everyone who meant anything in his and Isobel’s shared life. Which, today, they would make public by officially moving in together.