The road is bumpy, making the journey tough going. Every part of my body is aflame with pain. I slip in and out of consciousness, and each time I come around, I’m expecting to discover that it has all been a dream, that there is no US military vehicle taking us to Dad. But each time I am rewarded by the jolting sensation of the truck, by the sounds of its tires racing across the parched earth, and by the sight of the US marine as she tends to me, giving me water to sip and chewy protein bars for energy. Not long ago I was certain we were facing death, that my dead friends were appearing before my eyes in order to take me to the afterlife. Now, it is as though I’ve been given a second chance.

I can’t believe what is happening. My dad is alive, and we have been rescued, right when it looked like the end had arrived. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined it would happen this way.

The truck I’m traveling in is part of a convoy. For reasons I don’t fully understand yet, we’re all traveling separately. I think of Bree and pray that she is being cared for as well as I am. I wonder if she’s been told that our dad is alive yet, or whether she knows we’re on our way to be reunited with him. I try to picture her reaction; I know she won’t have held back her tears in the way I did. At the very least, I hope she’s with Charlie, that the two of them are together, perhaps even with Penelope beside them. I don’t dare let myself consider that the dog may not have survived, though I know it’s a possibility.

I hear the sound of brakes and start to feel the truck slowing down.

“What’s happening?” I say to the soldier who has been caring for me.

I try to sit up but she guides me back down.

“We’re at the compound,” she explains. “There are checkpoints to go through. Don’t worry. We’ll be there very soon.”

I try to relax but it’s almost impossible. I feel like I did when I was a little child waiting for my dad to come home after being stationed abroad for months. Only the sensation inside of me is a thousand times stronger than it was when I was younger, because it hasn’t been months, it has been years. And while the concept of my dad dying while he was away was scary when I was younger, it still seemed abstract and unimaginable. But I’ve spent the last four years assuming I will never ever see him again. The sensation inside of me is more akin to discovering that someone has come back from the dead.