Chapter 27

Delilah sat on the edge of the hospital bed, trying not to think.

Her hand went to her face to scratch an itch and poked at the bandage instead. She was grateful she hadn't needed more stitches, but the exposed parts of her face were covered in scratches that pulled at her skin.

Slowly, she stood, then changed her mind. Every part of her body ached although she couldn't understand why, and she'd refused to take any heavy medication that would leave her in a stupor, but she wondered at the wisdom of that now that the anesthetic was wearing off.

When they'd first brought her in, she had been in a hurry to leave again, but the idea of going home to be by herself with her own thoughts was overwhelming. The doctor told her to get some rest, but that last thing she wanted to do was close her eyes.

"Hey there," Luca said from the door.

"Hey, I told you you didn't have to come." But she was glad he did.

"I know. But I had to see for myself that you were okay. The news coverage freaked me out."

"That's their job. To scare everyone into watching."

"Yeah." He crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

She looked down at herself. "Sitting on the bed."

"I spoke to your doctor."

"Oh yeah?"

"He said he recommended you stay in overnight."

"He told me that too."

"He also said you were insisting on leaving as soon as you could."

"Did he tell you I could go home if I felt well enough?"

"You don't think it would be best to follow the doctor's recommendation?"

"I don't like hospitals very much. It reminds me of when my mom was sick."

"Okay, then why don't you stay at my place so I can keep an eye on you?"

She pushed up onto her feet, holding her breath to avoid grimacing. "That's a generous offer, but I don't want to do that to you."

"Do what to me?"

"Inconvenience you."

He walked over to her and pulled her into an unexpected hug. "You're an idiot." His voice was muffled in her shoulder. "I want you to inconvenience me."

"So you're saying I would be a nuisance?"

He laughed, then pulled back. "No. What I'm saying is I'm sorry you had to go through all of that. And it's all my fault."

"We can't ignore Marc and Demir's part in all of this. They are a lot more responsible than either one of us."

"Is that how you really feel?"

"No. Mostly I blame myself."

Luca nodded. "At least Marc's in prison."

"And Agent Trevors said he's confident Demir was in the building."

"Good."

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Death is so final. It's not what I wanted."

"It's not?"

She shook her head. "I wanted Demir to know I forgave him."

"Why would you do something like that? The man's a murderer."

"I don't know that I could explain it to you in any meaningful way."

"You sound like you've gone all religious."

"Religious isn't the word I'd use, but yes, I've found my way back to God."

"Wait, what? You—what do you mean ‘back to.' You say that like you've been there before."

"Remember when we were kids, and we went to church with the neighbor and her kids?"

"I remember you kept going back until they moved away. I only went once. It was so boring. So you're saying you had some sort of religious experience when you went?"

"Yeah."

"But you were a kid."

"Yeah. I don't think God minds how old you are."

"Whatever makes you feel good, I guess."

She wanted to tell him more but knew he wasn't in the right place to hear it. She could pray for him, and maybe God would make an opportunity.

"All I'll say is that forgiving Demir was the best thing for me. It's the only way I can move on."

"I certainly won't give you a hard time for that. You think you can really move on?"

"I do."

"And you still want to leave the hospital?"

"Yes. But I will take you up on your offer to stay with you. At least for a night or two. I don't know how I'd manage on my own right now."

"Good."

"Oh." She stopped.

"What?"

"I just realized I wrecked your car."

"Already taken care of."

"How'd you get a new car already?"

"I don't. I have a rental. Picked it up on my way here."

"Oh good. I wasn't looking forward to the bus."

"I thought you'd feel right at home."

She laughed, then winced. "Ouch. Whatever you do, don't make me laugh."

"Oh boy. That is going to be tough. Now I want to do it more than anything."

She bumped him in the shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, leading her out of the room.

As they walked past the next room, the TV was on. Delilah glanced up and saw images of the embassy and stopped.

"It's strange seeing it on TV."

"We're taking you live to the scene where we have breaking news."

Delilah moved closer to the door. "Something's happening." The camera panned to a rescue dog barking.

"That's right, Ella…," said a reporter standing outside the permitter. "We've just seen an increase in activity here at the scene of the explosion. From what we can gather, authorities have found evidence that there is a survivor among the rubble."

"Can I help you?" said the man in the bed.

Delilah waved him into silence while she watched video footage of rescuers shouting to one another as they removed pieces of debris.

She turned to Luca. "You have to take me there."

"D, come on. What do you think they're going to find?"

"I don't know. What if Demir survived?"

"Even if he has, they're not going to let you anywhere near him. Let me take you home so you can rest. Agent Trevors will contact you as soon as he knows anything. You're not well enough to stand around hoping for a tidbit of information to come your way. You'll probably find out just as fast from watching the news at my place."

"Please."

Luca frowned. "You won't give up until I take you, will you?"

"No."

"Okay, but if this goes on too long, I'm dragging you out of there."

"I won't go anywhere until I know what they find."

"You're stubborn, you know that?"

"Yes."

"All right. Let's go."

Samson opened his eyes to the same blackness he'd lived in for months. For a moment, he thought he was still in the cell and had dreamed the explosion. But then he tried to move.

A heavy weight on his chest made it impossible to move and hard to breathe. He wiggled his fingers and toes, even though it would make no difference. He was buried under a pile of rubble with no way to escape.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, stilling his breath to ease the tightness.

A muffled clanging brought his eyes open again. And he listened. A dog barked, and someone yelled, but it was distant. Too distant.

"Help," he tried to call out, but his voice was small and choked. He coughed, sending a searing pain through his abdomen.

The dog barked again.

Slowly, he took in as much air as he had room for and tried again. "Help." But it wasn't enough.

He let go of the small spark of hope that had ignited for a moment and gave in to despair, wishing he had died in the blast. He shouldn't have climbed the stairs. If he had remained in the room with the bomb, he could have made sure to end it quickly.

"God, why didn't you take me? Why let me live a little longer? Do I need more suffering?"

Was there something he had left to do? He remembered the bullet he'd taken in his side. Probably not fatal if he had gotten help right away, but it wouldn't be long before he bled out.

"Is this my punishment?" He knew it wasn't. That wasn't the God he'd come to know.

With the little breath he could muster, he hummed an old hymn, his mind drifting into itself until he lost consciousness.

A shrieking rip woke him again. It grated his ears enough that he tried to move his hand to cover them. Then the silence returned.

"Hello?" a muffled voice reached him.

"I'm here," he whispered.

The horrible sound returned, and the coffin of twisted metal and concrete around him groaned, increasing the weight on his chest. He would have cried out in pain if he could have. Then the weight lifted, and a pinprick of light appeared above him. He stared at it for a moment, then closed his eyes, and it disappeared. He looked again. It was real.

He focused on it as the sound of machinery hummed around him, growing louder until it stopped again.

"Hello?" the voice came again. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm here," he tried again and didn't think his voice carried past his lips, but excited shouts followed with only some words reaching his ears.

"Quick…over…time."

The hum started again and the screeching, sending an icepick through his skull.

More light appeared above him, blinding him.

"I can see him!" someone shouted. More yelling followed, and the dog barked.

Time dragged as pieces above him were removed until he could make out the sky, then a face.

"Can you speak?" the man said.

"Yes," Samson croaked.

"What's your name?"

"Samson. Vartan."

The man looked behind him and yelled the name to whoever was there, then looked back at him. "Are you having trouble breathing?"

"Yes."

"Can you feel your arms and legs?"

"I don't know. I can move my fingers and toes."

"Okay. Hang in there. We're going to get you out of there, but we have to move slow. We don't want this place collapsing in on you."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." He was surprised by his ability to make a joke.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed. He'd lost consciousness multiple times, but when they'd removed enough of the debris, he was awake when someone climbed down to him to assess him.

"How bad is it?" he asked the paramedic.

"We won't know for sure until we get you out of here."

"I have a gunshot wound on my left side."

The paramedic checked, then quickly pressed down, shouting instructions above.

Samson's head spun as more people appeared above, but his blurry vision mashed everything together until it was indiscernible.

After several more minutes, he felt like he was moving but didn't know if that was vertigo or if something more was happening.

He heard shouts and cheers before he recognized he'd been pulled out. At least if he died now, he wouldn't die in that hole.

Another face appeared above him, and he recognized it.

"Trevors."

"I can't believe you survived. You really are invincible."

"Tell that to my broken body."

"You're going to be okay. You're going to make it," he said as he followed along.

"I don't believe you."

He looked past Trevors and saw Delilah, peering over the shoulder of a police officer. He reached out to her, and she reached back, like in the dream he'd had.

After being loaded into the back of the ambulance, the doors were shut, and the paramedic asked him more questions, but he couldn't get his mouth to work anymore.

"He's lost too much blood," he heard one of them say before he closed his eyes and gave in to the darkness that had been calling to him.

Delilah watched the ambulance drive away, her body rigid as she held onto the emotion that was too much to handle.

Luca stood beside her with his arm around her.

He shook his head. "I can't believe it. I just…how?" When Delilah began to shake, he said, "I need to get you home."

"No. You need to take me to the hospital."

"Are you sure?"

"Agent Trevors," she said when she saw him approach.

"Can you give us a second?" he said to Luca and directed Delilah through the barricade. "How're you doing?"

"I don't know. That's the last thing I expected. I thought maybe Demir had survived, but Samson?"

"I need you to know it's not looking good. He's lost a lot of blood. They said he had a gunshot wound. The only reason it didn't kill him was because of the weight pressing on him. It must have stopped the bleeding, but his chance of survival is slim. I don't want you getting your hopes up."

She nodded. "I understand."

He blew out a breath as he rested his hands on his hips and looked around. "I don't know what else to say."

"Can I go to the hospital?"

He scrubbed at his chin. "You think you can handle it?"

"Yes. Please."

"All right. If you can get Luca to bring you, I'll call ahead and let them know."

"You're not coming?"

"I'll be there soon. I need to tie up some things here first."

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You're letting me into this. Thank you."

He nodded, and she returned to Luca. "We're going to the hospital."