by Maree Green
Nausea rolled in my stomach. I didn’t know what that meant, but for some weird reason, it freaked me out.
I sat forward a fraction, ready to say something I was sure my brain would come up with, but then his gaze swung back to pin me. The dullness I saw there made me shrink. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I was sure I didn’t like it.
“You know he’s gone, don’t you?” he said quietly.
A chill ran through my blood.
“He’s not coming back. You do know that, don’t you, Amy?”
My breath shook. “Stop it, Ryan.”
Pity streamed from his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head. Panic quickly started coursing through my veins. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was Daniel’s brother. His twin brother. He was supposed to hold on to hope just as much as me. I didn’t understand the words he was saying. I didn’t understand why he looked so defeated.
I was standing before I knew what I was doing. “Stop talking like that,” I demanded. “Daniel is missing. He’s not dead. You of all people should know!”
Ryan pushed himself to his feet, his expression hardening. “Exactly. I of all people should know. I’m his twin. That means we can tell when something’s wrong.” He took a small step forward. “Do you want to know what I feel, Amy? Do you want to know what I’ve felt for the last six weeks?”
My whole body trembled. Anger, upset, and devastation roiled within its confines. Protectively, I cradled the little bump in my stomach.
“Nothing,” he said, spitting the word out like he was tasting something bad. “I’ve felt nothing, Amy. Not a damned thing. Do you want to know why that is?”
I shook my head, tears prickling my eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything, Ryan, and you know it. Daniel told me himself that he hasn’t had that kind of connection with you since your parents separated. And I don’t need you to tell me what you feel. I can feel him. I know he’s still alive!”
Susan appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide as she glanced between the two of us.
“What on earth is going on?”
I stared at Ryan, hatred starting to take a hold of me. Pity still shone from his eyes, but it was the defeated swoop of his shoulders that cut me most. I didn’t realize just how much I needed him to believe Daniel was still alive. The fact that he’d given up hope seemed to make my grip on it slip a little more.
“Ryan!” Susan barked.
Ryan released me from his gaze, answering his mother with a look. Silence returned to the room for a moment before he simply shrugged. “Nothing, Mom.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
My gaze followed him until the door clicked closed behind him, my body shivering with sickness that rolled through me.
“Amy?”
With desperation quickly taking me over, I looked into Susan’s eyes.
“What happened?” she asked, worry and upset exuding from her very being.
“He’s alive,” I said, hating that my voice lacked the conviction I desperately needed it to convey. “You believe that, don’t you?”
She rushed forward, her hands seeking mine so she could grip them tightly. “Of course I do. What did Ryan say?”
I opened my mouth to tell her, but stopped short when I felt the warmth of wetness between my legs. My eyes widened with panic as thoughts of blood took over. “Oh no.”
Susan’s body language went into a state of high alert. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking my hands from hers, I started moving across the room. “I need the bathroom.”
My heart was thundering. Worry was taking over. What the hell was going on?
“Amy?”
I heard Susan’s voice, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to know what was happening to my body.
With hands shaking, I opened each door until I made it to the bathroom and locked myself inside. Swallowing against my nervously dry throat, I lowered my panties and prepared myself for the worst.
Relief was the first thing to hit. No blood. But then I was struck with confusion. My panties were definitely wet, and I knew I certainly hadn’t peed myself, so what the hell was it?
Cold fear swept through me the second my mind made the connection.
Oh, God, no.
My water had just broke.
Chapter 50
Daniel
Deployed time: 18 weeks
MIA: 8 weeks
Amy,
I don’t know how many days or weeks have passed since I last spoke to you, but I know it’s been too long. When I close my eyes I try to remember the way your voice sounded when you whispered to me, the way your eyes fluttered when you woke, the way your body felt under my hands. I’m scared that I’m going to forget, and I’m terrified you’re going to forget. Please don’t forget me. I’m coming home. I promise.
Love, Daniel
Senses returned to me slowly, and with it, a dull, aching pain in my head. Voices murmured close by, and the first thing my brain registered was the language. English. Forcing my head to lift and my eyes to open, I searched in hope, finding two dark figures barely three feet from where I lay. We were separated by bars.
“Where am I?” I groaned, my voice barely making a sound.
The murmuring stopped, and one of the bodies moved away.
I coughed, dust flying up around my face. Struggling to push myself up a bit more, I tried again. “Where am I?”
“Easy there, big guy. You’ve got a pretty big gash on your forehead.”
As soon as he said it, the pain intensified. I hissed and tried to sit up, only half succeeding when my body slumped against a wall.
Looking over at the shape of the body who was talking to me, I squinted, trying to make out his features. I wasn’t sure what his accent was, but in my haze, it sounded like it might have been Italian.
He cleared his throat a little. “And I couldn’t really tell you where you are, but if I had to guess, I’d say not far from Raqqa. Maybe half an hour. South.”
I nodded. That sounded about right. Using the wall for support, I slid closer to the bars. “Who has us?”
He laughed quietly. “Isn’t that the million-dollar question? From the little Arabic I know, I’ve come to the conclusion they’re a rebel group fighting for their own side.”
That didn’t surprise me either. It seemed to be the way here. So many different beliefs. So many different opinions on who should be in charge. “What do they want us for?”
The man scoffed. “They trade us. To whoever has what they need. They don’t care. The Daesh. The FSA. The YPG. The Kurds. The UN. Anyone.”
“That include ransom?”
He laughed. “Why? You think you’re worth something? Don’t hold your breath. We all thought that coming in here. They get more of what they want from trading us to our enemies.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
He sighed. “I lost count. Maybe three months?”
My stomach sank. Three months. By my rough calculations, it had already been over four months since I left Amy. If I hadn’t been hit, I would be on base counting down the last few weeks until I was going to see her again. I couldn’t let her down. I needed to get out of here.
The figure on the other side of the bars shifted suddenly, his body becoming tense and alert before quickly shuffling away from me. Clanking metal rang out across the room, and a door screeched slowly open.
I knew the instant the guy appeared in the doorway and looked at me that he was there for me. I just hoped it wasn’t for anything bad.
A girl with a black scarf around her head trailed in behind him, her head hung low as she carried a bucket to her chest. The guy barked orders at her and she rushed forward, pausing at the metal doorway that locked me in. I straightened, my mind working hard as I watched the guy unlock the latch to let her in.
She approached me slowly, her eyes scared and wary. Placing the bucket on the ground, she knelt and pointed to my head. “I
clean.”
Desperation flared. I nodded. “You speak English?” I asked, softly, just loud enough for her to hear.
Her eyes met mine as she raised the wet cloth. “Some.”
I sucked in a sharp breath as the sting took over my senses. Just how deep was the fucking gash?
The girl paused. “Sorry.”
Licking my lips, I tried to force my head to come up with a solution. A way she could help me out. “It’s okay. Do you know where I am?”
The confusion in her eyes told me she didn’t understand what I was saying. Frustration flared.
“Where am I?” I said, slowly.
Her eyes brightened, and she gave me a slight nod. “Raqqa.”
Okay, so I was still in Raqqa. How was I going to get a message to my team, though?
She lowered the cloth into the water again, swishing it around before squeezing it out again. Her eyes flickered to the badge on my uniform.
My pulse started picking up. Could she help me? “Can you get a message to someone for me?”
Her eyes turned confused again, causing my frustration to soar. The guard barked something at her, making her flinch before quickly resuming her cleaning job.
“Help me,” I said, forcing her to meet my gaze.
She continued to dab the wet cloth on my forehead, but her eyes held fast to mine. I had no idea what she was thinking, or even if she understood what I’d said. She gave me no clue at all.
“Please . . . ” I said, desperation clear. “Find—”
My words were cut short by a barrage of Arabic from the guard. The girl’s eyes widened, and she immediately dropped the cloth into the bucket and stood, scooping it up and scurrying out past the guard and out of sight.
He stared at me for a few seconds before spitting on the ground near my feet and slamming the door closed again.
Gritting my teeth, I swore every bad word I knew under my breath. I had just blown the only chance I had to get the fuck out of here.
Chapter 51
Amy
Deployed time: 19 weeks
MIA: 9 weeks
From: Amy Benson [email protected]
To: Daniel Stephenson [email protected]
Date: Fri, Aug 19, 2016 at 7:37 PM
Subject: Still in 1 piece
Daniel,
I’ve now been in the hospital for 3 weeks. I know it’s the best thing for the baby, but boy do I get lonely and bored in here. I’ve resorted to doing cross stitches to keep me entertained. The baby is 23 weeks now. It’s been hard to resist finding out if we’re having a boy or a girl. But I didn’t want to do it without you here with me. He/she is getting bigger and stronger every day. Or so Dr. Anderson tells me. She also tells me the baby is laying in a breech position (butt first). Without any fluid, it’s unlikely it can turn around in there either, so unless it’s born in the next 5 weeks, Dr. Anderson says I’ll need to have a cesarean.
I’ve been sitting here, staring at the screen for the last ten minutes. I’m trying Daniel. I’m trying so hard to be positive for our baby, and be positive for you, but it’s hard. I feel torn in so many directions. I’m scared. Scared for you. Scared for the baby. And scared for myself. I don’t know how to make everything work. I don’t know how to keep myself going. I know I’ve come so far learning to be independent and strong for myself, but this is too much. I want you here with me. I want you here so much. I love you. Please come home to me.
Amy xxx
Staring at the hospital menu, I sighed. I didn’t think I would ever have a need to stay long enough to see how a hospital menu rotation would work. Shit, I never thought about hospital food at all. But now, staring at the weekly menu form, I sadly discovered it had a two-week rotation. At least I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like. Toast was a no. Salad was a yes. Potato mash was a definite no. I cringed just thinking of the white, sticky mass.
Marking out the foods I thought I was brave enough to try, I slid it to the side of my table and picked up the cross-stitch I’d been kindly given by a volunteer worker.
When I first arrived at the hospital, I was looked at like I was a naïve little girl who didn’t know anything about how the female body worked. I’d been told I most likely just wet myself and couldn’t tell the difference. I’d had internal checks for dilation and swabs taken to test for amniotic fluid.
After that, they finally believed me.
One of the nurses did apologize to me, explaining how they get quite a number of women pretending their waters have broken just because they’re sick of being pregnant and want to be induced. I’d had to pick my jaw up off the ground after hearing that one. I still had a hard time believing it. I mean, here I was, twenty-three weeks pregnant, doing everything I could to keep my baby inside until it was healthy enough to survive the outside world, and those women were just . . . sick of it. It made me shake my head.
The doctors had then told me all the survival statistics if the baby was born at different gestations. To be honest, I think most of it went straight past me. The only thing I remembered was the survival rate increased significantly when the baby reached twenty-eight weeks, so that was my goal. Stay bed bound and pray it was happy to chill in there for another five weeks. At least.
What I hadn’t prepared for was the boredom. I’d read books, had Susan bring in a sewing machine so I could make some maternity clothes, learned how to crochet, cross-stitched whatever was given to me, and started making Halloween decorations. I’d also had Amber bring in some sweets for me to break up the hell that was hospital food.
Then, when night would come and the lights were dimmed, I would be alone. With my thoughts. And sadness would envelope me. All I could think of was Daniel. I wondered where he was. If he was injured. When he would be found so he could come back to me. Then I thought of our baby. Fighting for its life. Hanging in there. Giving me the strength I needed to carry on.
And I would cry.
I prayed for our family to make it. For everything to work out how I dreamed it would. Because I didn’t know how I would survive if it didn’t.
A quick rap on the door jerked me from my dark thoughts, making the needle pierce my thumb.
“Shit.” Dropping the cross-stitch onto my lap, I shoved my thumb in my mouth to stop the sting.
“Are you okay?”
I glanced up at Ryan standing in the doorway, my body going still. I hadn’t seen him since the day my water broke. Seeing him now, while I was feeling so fragile, made it hard not to hurt. His likeness reminded me too much of Daniel.
I swallowed, removing my thumb from my mouth. “Yeah.”
“Is it all right if I come in?”
Gauging myself for the most accurate answer, I nodded.
He slowly came to the bedside and sank down on the chair closest to the window. The look he gave me was of complete distress. “I’m so sorry, Amy. I can’t help but feel this is my fault. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you. I had no right to do that to you.”
Drawing in a steady breath, I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, Ryan. The doctors think it was some kind of infection that caused it. It would’ve happened either way.”
“Still,” he said, pressing his lips together. “I shouldn’t have said it to you. I know you need to believe Daniel’s still alive. It just killed me to see you so sad. I thought if I could convince you to move on, you’d deal with your grief quicker and I’d get to see you happy again.”
My heart shuddered. “Daniel’s still alive.”
Ryan didn’t reply. He just watched me, assessing me in his usual quiet way.
“He is,” I said, my voice stern yet desperate at the same time.
He nodded slowly. “Okay. I just want you to know, until then, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Even if it’s just someone to get you more books, or junk food, or Halloween craft. I’m here. Okay?”
I inhaled, my mind trying to find the catch. Not able to see one, I let my shoulders relax. “Okay.”
>
Ryan visibly calmed. “Good. Now tell me, how’s the baby?”
I sighed. “Small. The scans are saying it’s barely one pound. They took me to see babies that would be similar in size if it was born now, and it made me so scared, Ryan. They’re so tiny.”