Come home
I apologise for the legibility of the speech in this chapter. I feel it to be justified.
15/5/98
Adam lay on his side on the floor. They hadn't bothered to tie him to the girder this time, just left him cuffed on the floor. They probably thought he didn't have it in him to run. They were right. He doubted his right leg would take any weight, the bites in it weren't many, two that he'd been aware of, but they were deep. Blood loss from his mouth over the past few days, or however long, and now his bite wounds, was defeating him. He could feel blood from his left bicep flowing slowly down across his chest, clotting round the hair there. Blackness closed in on him.
He woke next in almost total darkness. And cold, so cold. He could feel the stiffness of dried blood all over him. The image of the dog, white fur on its neck already matting red with blood, his blood, teeth bared, eyes wild, lunging at him again, hung in the dark before him. He could well die in this stretch of time, before anyone came in here again. It seemed odd, to die here, after what he'd survived in Syria. But he couldn't have long left, surely he couldn't survive like this, bleeding, no food, no water, for long. He made no attempt to fight the blackness as it rose up again.
He was colder still when he woke again. He'd never had hypothermia, but he had to be close now. He closed his eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow now. There was light ahead of him. He was standing, looking in to it. Laughter, a wide open space. A child ran over the grass, laughing to itself for the whole world to hear, arms spread wide. It ran almost headlong in to Fiona, who was kneeling on the ground. Her laughter joined the child's as she held it close, stroking the back of its head. The pair of them drew apart. Fiona looked up at Adam, one hand still on the child's back, and set the child running again, this time towards Adam. It called out to him as it ran. The word echoed in his head, as if the child had said it several times, each word starting before the last had ended.
"Da-Da-dy-dy" The child stopped in front of him. He crouched down to take its hand. Its skin was soft and warm, but as soon as he touched it, the child turned and ran back in to Fiona's arms, laughing again.
Somewhere, on a cold, blood-soaked floor, prickling heat rose behind someone's eyes.
Fiona held the child, until it almost seemed to become one with her, until Adam couldn't see where she ended and it began.
On the cold, blood-soaked floor, someone began to cry, alone in the dark. He'd never make it home, never see his wife again, never hold her in his arms, never tell her he loved her, never know if she was pregnant, never see their child. But he hadn't broken. He could be proud of that. He hadn't told them anything. And it would be over soon, surely it would be.
Fiona got to her feet, the child's body seemed to have merged with hers. She turned to face Adam, the open field faded around her. Her figure was different. There was a bulge between her ribcage and her hips. She was pregnant, heavily pregnant. The laughter was gone from her face, she looked grave, scared.
"Ad-Ad-am-am." Her voice echoed like the child's had. She was walking towards him. "Ad-Ad-am-am." There was an urgency to her voice. "Ad-Adam, loo-look at me-tme." She crouched down beside him on the cold, blood-soaked floor. "Ad-ad-am-am." Her voice had dropped to a frantic whisper. "Ad-Adam, do-don't give up-veup. No-Not now-ow." She laid her hands on his neck. They were warm. They were warm and he was so cold. "Ad-Adam, li-listen to me-tme. We-We're coming for you-ou. Ju-Just hold on-ldon" He didn't respond. She gave him a look of complete desperation. "Fo-For God's sake Adam-am. I-I need you-ou, we-we need you-ou." She laid a hand on her abdomen, making her meaning clear. "The-They're coming Adam-am. Ho-Hold on." She was too late. The blackness was closing again. "Ad-Adam, stay with me-thme. Ad-Adam-am." Adam slipped away.