Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Prologue
- 2046
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
‘BEN?’ She screams his name. Her hair plastered to her scalp. She runs down the slick grass past the end of the bunker as Harry runs out from the bunker. ‘BEN?’ she shouts harder, louder, desperate and worried sick. The rain drives hard. Pelting against her face and drumming noisily on the concrete sides of the bunker. He isn’t here. She goes to the edge and peers down. Nothing. She spins round, searching for anything. Wet tracks in the grass going up the bank. ‘BEN?’ She runs up, planting her bare feet into the grass to gain traction to reach the top. She slips and slides. Cursing but working furiously to gain the crest. Please no. Not this way. Not like this. He doesn’t deserve this. To die alone like this.
She reaches the top and spots him instantly. A grey figure on his knees with his back to her. The pistol held in his right hand at his side, resting on the ground.
‘He there?’ Harry behind her coming up the bank. She waves for him to stop.
‘BEN.’ She runs hard, heedless of the sharp stones digging into her feet. She spots his chest heaving with sobs. His head bowed in submission to life. ‘Oh God . . . Ben . . .’ She reaches him as he turns to look at her and never before has she seen such misery in a person. His eyes red from sobbing with thick bags underneath. His hair straggly and plastered down from the rain. A picture of abject dejection. He goes to speak. His jaw working silently. The pistol lifts an inch then drops.
‘I can’t . . .’ he sobs.
‘Oh Ben.’ She drops behind him, wrapping her arms round his shoulders.
‘I can’t,’ he whispers with pain driving through his heart that she feels pounding within him. His left hand reaches up to grip her arm as it holds him close. ‘I can’t, Safa . . . I can’t do it . . .’
‘I know.’ She sobs, tears spilling from her eyes to roll fat with the rivulets of rain pouring down her face. She grips him harder, kissing the side of his head and feeling the heaving sobs travel through his body. ‘Not like this . . .’
‘I’ve got to . . .’ He sobs again. His hand on her arm. She feels him pushing back into her. Desperate for human contact.
‘Not like this,’ she whispers into his ear. ‘Ben . . . not like this . . .’
‘Let me . . . help me . . . I can’t . . . I . . .’
‘Not like this,’ she cries into him, pressing her cheek into his head. Her arms wrapping and holding. Rocking him as their knees soak into the mud. Harry watches from the edge of the bank. His face as impassive as ever.