Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“This is the last time I leave you. I promise.”
She nodded and released the grip she had on my neck. I lowered her to her feet, cupping her cheek.
“Come on, Adam!” Chris yelled.
I picked up my bags again, never breaking eye contact with her.
“I’ll be here,” she vowed shakily.
I held on to those words as I boarded a plane to Africa, once again leaving her behind.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Weeks later, I let my head fall back against the ripped material of the headrest while my body jarred and shifted as the Jeep hurtled down the torn-up road toward the small airstrip in the center of Africa. I ached all over, my body thin and weak. My tattered clothes were covered in stains of dirt, blood, and all manner of fluids. I was beyond exhausted, and after what I’d witnessed and been through the last while, it felt as though every nerve in my body was sitting on the top of my skin, burning and humming with anxiety. I repeatedly traced over the cracked screen of my iPhone with my thumb, the battery long since dead. There had been no point in plugging it in. The generator was needed for other things, and we had no cellular reception.
Two more hours.
Two more hours and I’d be in a small plane that would take me back to something resembling civilization. A few hours after that, I could plug in my phone and let it charge.
But most important, I would use the landline at the hotel and call my Nightingale.
I hadn’t heard her voice in what felt like forever, despite that it was only a few weeks.
I shut my eyes as my chest swelled with longing to hear her voice.
Even if she was still upset with me, I needed to hear her voice.
She would calm me, help me find my center, and regain enough strength to get home.
To her.
Because where she was, that was home. Then I would never leave her again. I never should have left her this time.
I glanced down at my phone again and wondered if, when it came to life, it would be filled with her sweet messages of love.
Or, if she was upset enough, it would be empty.
I prayed it was the former.
A deep shuddering exhale of air escaped my lungs.
I needed it to be the former.
When we had arrived in Africa, and we flew low over the terrain, I was shocked at the devastation below us. None of the news reports had shown the true, massive destruction the wildfires had caused. Tommy was going ahead with Larry, the journalist, to the clinic. After we separated, Chris and I hit the ground running, constantly moving as we filled memory cards with the horrific photographs. Our guide was amazing, taking us places most people would never see. Image after image filled my camera of destroyed villages, dead and displaced animals, and land that would take years and years to regrow and replenish. By the time I was shaking Chris’s hand goodbye, I was drained. He would now finish on his own, while I headed farther inland to meet up with Larry and Tommy and complete this assignment. Chris would be home before I would, and I made him promise to call Ally and tell her I was fine. I had only gotten one brief message to her, and I knew she would worry. Larry had the satellite phone, so I could use that to contact her.
“Good luck, Adam.”
“You too. I’m not around to pull you away from a crumbling precipice, so be careful.”
He grinned widely. “But what a fucking shot I got—am I right?”
I shook my head. Ten years ago, I would have said the same thing. I snorted—ten months ago, I would have said it as well.
I climbed into the Jeep with my new guide, waving Chris off. I still had a long journey, both by Jeep and plane, to get where I was going.
I thought about Ally the whole time.
Nothing prepared me for what I walked into. A village close to the clinic had fallen victim to the fires, and now the clinic was filled with the wounded and dying. In the blink of an eye, I became a medic, tamping down my revulsion of blood and doing what I could. Dr. Conrad and his wife worked tirelessly, Larry and Tommy pitching in as well. I dressed wounds, cleaned cuts and gashes, washed and tended burns. Peter, as he insisted I call him, and his wife Edwina handled the far worse cases. For two days, I did nothing but work, until finally, there was no one left to help—at least for the moment. As I sat surveying the wounded, watching families cry and mourn their dead, and the fires still raging, I realized I was in far graver danger than I had ever exposed myself to in the past. I would have to work harder than ever to keep my promise to my girl.