Page 122 of Oblivion

Jenny’s voice cracked as he uttered five words that fragmented my world.

“There was an accident yesterday.”

“Who?” I croaked.

“Forrest.”

“Bullshit!”

“I’m not fucking with you, Lote.”

My vision faltered and my fingers turned white from gripping the wheel. They were the only thing anchoring me to sanity.

“How bad?” I asked, voice tight and gritty and barely audible.

“Bad, brother. He didn’t make it.”

“Fuck off! Fuck the fuck off!” I yelled.

Searing pain cut through the center of my chest and might as well have torn it wide open. Each breath came in oxygenless pants as denial over losing one of my closest mates set in.

Jenny sniffed hard. I knew he was crying. Hell, I was barely holding it in, and listening to his grief absolutely shattered me. I pressed a trembling hand to my eyes, not caring about the pain that came when my thumb dug harder. Anything to erase the burn in my heart.

“How?” I murmured, nothing more than a whisper.“Where?”

Every deployment carried high risks, and from time to time, a team ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fuck, I’d been in that situation before and nearly lost my goddamn arm.

Jenny forcefully cleared his throat before delivering the harrowing news. “It wasn’t on deployment, Lote. It was here during a training run. He fuckingfellfrom the repelling tower. Apparently launched before he was hooked up.”

“Nope. No fuckingwayhe’d be so complacent.”

IknewForrest, and there was simply no way he would head over the edge without triple-checking his gear.

“That’s what I said too,” Jenny muttered tightly.

My mind turned blank and refused to process a further word.

“I’ll call you back,” I managed to say before my voice broke.

I stabbed the disconnect button on the steering wheel, then slammed my hands against the leather. Over and over again, the wheel bore the brunt of my grief. I didn’t give a shit that I was losing my mind in the middle of the street. I didn’t give a fuck that I roared and cursed until my throat burned.

It wasn’t enough.

I needed out. Out, out,out.

Slamming my Tahoe into gear, I shot the narrowest gap and gathered multiple honking horns. I tailgated, impatiently leaned on my own horn, and sped my way home. Work could wait. There was no way I was making it into the office today. Not with the way my head spun and my hands shook when I finally collapsed against the wall of the elevator.

When it deposited me on my landing, I numbly stumbled into my apartment, immediately seeking something cold to shock lucidity back.

I whipped off my shirt and laid on the wooden floor, hoping the chill of the cool wood was enough to bring relief from the blinding heartache ripping me apart. I’d lost brothers in battle before, but fuck me, not one of my immediate teammates. And not on home ground.

The first spear of grief took me without warning. An excruciating cry from deep within left my throat stripped and raw. Another sob rolled off the back of the first, then a wretched scream tore free.

Pain consumed me. Wouldn’t ease no matter how much I cursed and yelled and ripped at my hair. It didn’t wane when I beat my fists on the floor, again and again, frustrated that it didn’t take away an ounce of agony.

At that moment, I would have traded places with Forrest without a second thought. Even if it was to escape the desolation mercilessly pinning me in place, I’d have done it in a heartbeat.

No amount of begging removed me from this messed up dream. No amount of praying brought someone to shake me from the nightmare. If only this was just another bout of PTSD sleepwalking.

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