No, wait, something is not right, we are falling. Rapidly sinking back to earth. Shouting, crashing metal.
Shouting, I wake up. Grabbing the bed as I feel myself falling. My heart is pounding. I’m sweating and shaking.
Slowly the nightmare fades and my heart rate eases. My mind returns to the here and now. My bedsheets twisted around my body.
Reality seeps into my disorientated brain. I’m safe in my apartment, I tell myself over and over again as I try to get my heart rate down.
Tonight, the nightmare was different. It was particularly bad tonight, and I know the death of Johno has triggered this change.
There is no way I’m going to be able to fall back to sleep now. To be honest, I’m scared to close my eyes and have those images replay. It’s nearly light out.
Daylight helps to keep my demons away. But today, it doesn’t feel like it will. I’m worried my PTSD has regressed back to the dark place I was in after I was injured. A darkness filled with death and destruction. I don’t want to slide back into a half-life again. I’ve worked so hard to get better.
I realize I need to get out of the city. Reaching for my phone, I turn it on. There are a couple of missed calls from Cassie and a text message from Blake checking if everything is okay. I fire off a quick text to Blake, telling him I’m going to fly down to Florida to be with Scotty. I briefly think to call Cassie, but I can't I'm too fragile and weak. I need time to get through this fog.
I then get online and book the earliest one-way flight to Miami. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I just know I need to go, and I need to go today, as soon as possible. The city feels like it's closing in on me.
I shower quickly then throw some clothes into a bag. Even doing these basic tasks is draining my energy but I need to keep moving, doing ordinary things to stop myself from getting stuck in my head.
Later that afternoon I arrive in Miami, hire a car and steel myself for the hour drive north to Scotty’s place at West Palm Beach. I'll be staying with Scotty at his condo overlooking the ocean. A view of the vast ocean will help. I need wide open space where I can breathe in deeply the fresh salty air. Where I can immerse myself in the sea, swimming or surfing. I need to reset my head.
A world away from the smell of death and the oppressive heat of the Afghanistan desert, which feels so real in my nightmares.
When Scotty lets me in, he gives me the usual man hug, a cross between a handshake and a shoulder nudge then taking a good long look at me, says, “Fuck, mate, you’re worse than me. Blake did warn me.”
I’d figured Blake would call to warn him I was a mess. I was a mess before I got on my flight. Now after the flight and the added concentration needed to do the drive from the airport, it feels like I have nothing left in my body.
I hate this feeling of darkness shrouding me and how it seems to strip me of my control and my ability to function. Leaving me feeling weak and vulnerable. But I will be forever grateful for the good friends who support me.
“How are you doing, mate?” I ask, trying to divert his focus from me.
“Pretty fucking shit, mate, I’ve just finished a call with Johno’s sister. Fuck me, it was hard,” he says, dragging his fingers roughly through his hair, and I notice for the first time how red his eyes are but know he won’t appreciate me mentioning it.
Dropping my bag on the floor, I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors opening to the ocean. I slide them wide open and breathe in deeply a lungful of the reviving air then turning back I ask, “Do we know what happened?”
Scotty sits down on his sofa, his head dropped back, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t know yet, but they know the helicopter wasn’t shot down. Johno managed to control the crash enough so only Johno and a local soldier died. Three survived. Guess his luck ran out.” His voice trails off, then he chokes out, “He was a fucking good mate.”
I turn away to gaze out at the ocean again not wanting to see the pain etched on my friend's face.
I drop my head, mumbling, “And a fucking good pilot too. Sorry, man.” Even to my ears, this sounds lame. Not enough words.
Scotty sighs. “It sucks to lose your best mate. Fuck it, I’m going for a surf. Are you coming?” he asks, jumping up from the sofa and walking toward his room.
“Sure,” I reply, picking up my bag and heading to the usual guestroom I stay in. I’m exhausted, but I know paddling out through the breakers and sitting on a board will help.
I get Scotty’s need to surf. Riding waves, the bigger, the better. It’s where he heals. We've surfed together many times over the years. Some of those times with Johno when he was on leave. It’s why this is what we both need to do now.
Chapter 24
Cassie
Whattheheck,whyis Luke not answering his phone? We had a fantastic weekend in Southampton. It was perfect in every single way. Perfect company. Perfect place. Perfect weather. Perfect loving. And a totally perfect man.
I feel like our relationship has taken a huge leap forward. It was so comfortable being with him in and out of bed. We talked loads as we walked on the beach, as we shared meals and lay snuggling in bed. I told him more about my years at college, and he talked to me about his experiences in the Rangers. We shared our stories back and forth.
Yesterday afternoon I texted him when I got back to the office after lunch, then again, a bit later. I didn’t get a response, so I called him, but the phone went straight to message.
I don’t understand why he still hasn’t contacted me, and it’s now Tuesday night. I hope everything is okay.
