Chapter 77 Part 77
Asher
He licked his dry lips, the taste of blood making the bile rise in his throat. Asher leaned forward, dry-heaving, his empty stomach roiling from the action. The darkness was never-ending, and he blinked a few times.
“Major?”
“Mark?”
“It’s Phillips, Sir; it’s too quiet. Something’s happening,” he said.
Asher closed his eyes again, biting back the sob that wanted to escape. He strained to listen to the sounds that had become so ingrained in them. He could hear his own breathing, and he held his breath.
“You’re right.”
Dull footsteps could be heard. A group of people running. Asher opened his eyes again, crawling on his hands and knees toward the door. Their captors hadn’t bothered chaining them up anymore. They were too weak to fight back. He’d lost count of the days, and didn’t even know if it was morning or night. He couldn’t recall the last time they had water or food.
“This is Staff Sergeant Carter Reid; move away from the door!” Asher moved to the side, and ten seconds later, a blast busted the door from its hinges. As flashlights appeared in the dark cell, Asher held his hand in front of his eyes. People moved into the cell, and then somebody was kneeling in front of him.
“Romeo 52 reporting, 7 prisoners found alive.” The man lit up his own face, and Asher sighed with relief. They were fellow soldiers. “Name and rank?”
“Major Asher Fitzgerald.”
The man smiled at him. “We’ve got you, Major. You’re going home.”
They were helped out of the cell and into the dark night. The moon was large and full as Asher’s eyes adjusted to the brightness around him. Soldiers tended to his team members while Carter Reid held a water bottle to his mouth.
“Not too fast, Major,” he said, gently. “You’ll be transported back to the base camp, and treated for any injuries, dehydration, and possible malnutrition.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Asher said, nodding his head.
The chopper blades created small whirlwinds of dust, but Asher didn’t care. They were going home. The terror, the horror of what had happened in that cell, was over. It was finally over.
As the chopper flew back to their base camp, Asher kept waiting to be hit from the ground—a missile or something striking them out of the air, but it never came.
They were taken to the infirmary immediately, where it was discovered that they all suffered from dehydration and malnutrition. They were given IV fluids to rehydrate them, and antibiotics, to help fight off whatever infections their wounds had gotten.
Asher had multiple superficial cuts across his abdomen, most of them festering, and he finally fell asleep with the help of tranquilizers.
The next morning dawned bright and hot when Asher opened his eyes. A woman in uniform greeted him with a smile. “Good morning, Major. You’re responding well to medication.”
“The rest of my team? How are they doing?”
“Everyone will make a full recovery. When you feel up to it, Colonel Winters would like a statement from you since you were the highest-ranking officer with the team.”
Five hours later, Asher signed the typed statement, relaying everything that had happened—everything he could remember—and he was discharged from the infirmary.
“Major?”
Asher turned, and stood at attention, rendering a crisp salute. “Yes, Colonel.”
“Your tour of duty is officially over. We’ll have you on the first flight out.”
“Sir, if I may speak frankly.”
“Of course, Major.”
“With the end of my tour, I would like to take the opportunity to inform you that I wish to be discharged from the Army, Sir.”
“Understood, Major. The paperwork will be drawn up and waiting for you when you land.”
Asher saluted him again, and walked out of the temporary office he had claimed. He wanted to go home. He needed to go home. He could taste the rain, and smell the fresh air mixed with the scent of manure, sweat, and hay.
It had taken almost 72 hours for him to finally be free. He was now a civilian, having signed the paperwork, and completing his final outprocessing debriefing.
It was early, but sweat already formed at the nape of his neck in the hot summer air. He hadn’t called his family. Someone would’ve called them, informing them he was missing in action. Another phone call would have notified them that he had been found alive, and was coming home.
The bus turned the corner, and Asher’s eyes widened. It seemed like the whole town had gathered in the road and on the sidewalks next to the bus stop. There were banners and posters, all welcoming him home. A hero’s welcome.
He didn’t feel like a hero, but he smiled as he stepped off the bus. His father was crying, as was Eden. His family surrounded him, and it was a tangle of arms as they all tried to hug him at the same time.
“Oh, Asher! I’ve missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re home,” Lorelei said, wrapping herself around him.
Asher sat next to his father in the truck, leaning his head against the window. The Lansing house came into view. “Stop!”
The truck came to a sharp stop, and Asher climbed out. The house looked the same, the weeds overgrown, and the grass too long. It was abandoned, just like he had expected it to be.
“Everything okay, son?” Thomas looked worriedly at him.
“Yeah… I thought…never mind. Everything’s fine, Pops.”
Later in the afternoon, when he’d finally gone to his own house, he could wipe off the smile, and stop pretending. His house was his refuge, his safe space with its big windows and large rooms.
“Tonight, I’ll make your favorite pie,” Lorelei said, as she walked through the front door with a bag of groceries in her arms.
Asher crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at the open field, the woods beyond it calling his name. “I don’t love you, Lorelei. I haven’t for a long time.”
“What?”
“It’s over. We’ve wasted years, and I don’t want to waste any more time.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but Asher walked out of his house, headed to the barn, and saddled One Star. He rode out of the barn, across the open field, and only slowed the horse once he reached the woods.
He kept heading up the hillside toward the mountain, and it felt like he could breathe again once he reached the cliff. The sun was starting to set, and Asher looked into the distance.
It had all felt so real that Asher could still hear Melody’s laughs. He could smell Maggie’s perfume when he concentrated, but the horizon itself had no answers for him. It was hard to process that it had all been in his head. He felt as though they had all died, leaving him behind. Alone.