When I’m set to refill my mug, I damn near drop it and shriek as a male’s guttural screams sounded from my bedroom.
Racing down the corridor with Ford right on my heels, I entered my room, turned on the light, then went in the bathroom for a flannel. Wetting the cloth, I ring it out then go to Zander’s side. Given his agitated state, I didn’t want to startle him or have him hurt me, so I made sure to keep my distance.
One of his hands held a fist full of the duvet tight in his grasp, the other lay at his side, nothing but anguish and panic filling his tense muscles, and creased brow. Sweat poured off him now.
I began wiping the flannel over his brow and down his neck, offering what soothing shushing noises I could muster through my shivering. I wasn’t cold, only ripe adrenaline.
“Shhh - Shhh, it’s alright. It’s going to be alright, I’m here.”
I glance to Ford, stock still in the doorway, not an ounce of tiredness in his wide eyes, as he takes in the scene of his brother in the midst of a nightmare.Not a nightmare, but a memory.
My eyes find Zander just as he let out a moan and began gasping.
“- fire extinguisher!”
“What?” I look around the room, confused.
Ford’s face is as pale as a ghosts. Zander shouts another curse, cutting off my question.
Zander rears up in bed, his eyes wide as his gaze darts frantically around the room, his thoughts not physically here in this moment.He’s in a flashback.
“Fuck! I need to save my men! Get this door open!”
“Ford! What do we do?!” My shout strains from the lump in my throat.
Ford didn’t answer as Zander’s free hand rummages around the comforter in a hysterical behavior. The temperature rises a few degrees as beads of sweat form on his brow and the shouting continues. I back off the bed, my body trembling as I glance at Ford.
He stands frozen in the doorway, pasty white as he takes in deep breaths. His muscles bulge as he grips the door casing with both hands. He’s ready to bolt.
*Panic*What do I do? What do I do?
Is this what Tamara and Gran have gone through so many years with me? Bloody Christ, it’s enough to give someone a heart attack.
“Fuck! We’re burning! Everyone is burning! Ford! Shark! Get out!” Zander shouts, “Scout! Get this fucking door open!” He shakes his hand harder against the imaginary door and begins panting and choking on what I can only imagine to be invisible smoke.
I tamp down the tea that is trying to make its way back up and instead focus on his needs. I get back in the bed, take the cloth in my trembling fingers and swipe it over his face, continuing with any soothing sounds I could think of.
“Shhh. It’s alright, love. Ye’re okay. Everyone is fine.”
My intuition tells me Owen didn't make it home alive.
“I gotta go – * deflate * Fuck!”
Ford chokes on a sob and grips a handful of his hair as he comes to a conclusion.
"I’m sorry, - I gotta to go-" he parrots, finding my concerned eyes before he turns and storms out of the room, leaving me with more questions than I originally had.
_CHAPTER 12 – ALEXANDER_
“The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.” – Douglas MacArthur
First thing I noticed is the blinding headache washing over me, I’m swaying on a carnival ride and willing it to come to an end. I can’t get off; the demons have their claws dug in deep, and this ride has only one true conclusion.
One final ending in mind.
Is today that day?
Mind is not my own