Page 128 of Enemy Within

But he’d thought that meant Adam would leave. Walk away, again, and live out the rest of his life apart from Faisal.

He hadn’t once thought about Adam’s death. He hadn’t thought Allah would be that cruel. To bring them back to each other—had it only been days since they’d lain together in a single hammock, whispering promises into each other’s skin—and then tear Adam from his heart again?

Part of him wanted to pray, to wail, to plead with Allah that this wasn’t the end. To demand answers, yell and scream until the clouds parted and he stood before his creator himself. Petulant fury raged in his soul, just like it had when he was six years old, and his uncle had come home instead of his parents.

The last time he’d prayed, Adam had been beside him, their movements in sync, their words whispered together in the cold hollows of the torpedo room. Adam had looked sideways at him, sneaking glances and smiles in between the verses. They’d held hands as they bowed low. Adam had stroked his thumb over Faisal’s palm. His voice had sounded so sweet, reciting theFatihain rolling Arabic.

He didn’t want to let that memory go, let it become just one blip in a long line of prayers. If he’d known how much those moments, those breaths, those whispered words would come to mean, he’d have paid more attention. Kept every moment in his memories, like capturing fireflies in a jar. Had Adam smiled at him six times, or seven? When he kissed Faisal’s nose, why hadn’t Faisal kissed him back? Why had he ducked his head and shifted away, coy instead of playful, focused on prayers instead of the gift that was beside him?

He couldn’t let it go, not yet. He wanted to always hold onto that feeling, the memory of Adam beside him, their souls so close they were almost one. He wasn’t ready for his next prayers to be alone.

To be without his husband.

He held Adam’s dog tags in one fist, clenched over his heart. Was this all he’d ever have of Adam? Would they ever find his body? He should try to find him, bring him back to Saudi. He’d ask his uncle for space in the royal cemetery, a plot beside his. He’d wash Adam, whisper the prayers in his ears, and wrap him in his shroud. Sit in mourning and pray for him for forty days, or, in the old ways, for an entire year. Or for ten years. Or a hundred. For the rest of his days.

The promise of paradise, and a life forever at Adam’s side in the next world, was too distant a dream for the immediacy of his shattered heart.

Speak the name of the one you love in your heart and in your prayers.He swallowed.Adam, always Adam. Always and forever.

The diving officer called to the captain, and Anderson ordered an ‘all stop’, and then a slow rise to periscope depth. He feltHonolulushift beneath his feet, the whoosh and hiss of air slipping from the ballast tanks.

Coleman shifted, pressing in behind him. “You okay?” he murmured into Faisal’s ear. “Need to talk?”

Faisal shook his head. “No, thank you, Sergeant.”

Anderson kept calling out orders. “Raise the masts. ESM sweep. Extend and open up the radio antennas. If there’s anything out there, I want to hear it.”

Coleman raised his eyebrows. In the dim light of the Conn, his eyes gleamed, dark shadows and blue-green shine piercing Faisal. “He and I talked, before—”

“Please,” he said, closing his eyes. “Not now.Yallah,I can’t—”

“Conn, Radio!” A voice broke over the intercom, one of the crewmen shouting. “We’re picking up a transmission!”

“Put on the speakers.”

Shrieks of pain erupted over the speakers. Deep, throat-tearing screams, ragged and gut-wrenching. And then shuffling. A scuffle, or a man being restrained. The sound of a chain being pulled, and then choking sounds, a man gasping, struggling for breath.

“Hold him back, hold him back. Tilt his head.”

Madigan’s voice broke over the radio. “Are you familiar with waterboarding, Jack? I perfected it years ago. And so did the good captain.”

Water being poured. A man, choking, struggling for breath, gurgling as his gasps quickened, faster and faster until he just sputtered. And then silence.

No one breathed. Anderson’s eyes were wide, circlets of white ringing his irises all the way around.

Nothing but the sound of water pouring slowly, endlessly, over the radio.

A chain released, heavy plinks echoing on the transmission. Something thudded. A man gasped and coughed, hacking and vomiting as he spewed up water like he was coughing up a lung.

Faisal closed his eyes and looked down. Memories flashed through his mind, streaks of light like tracer rounds piercing the darkness behind his eyelids. Years ago, with Adam, them together in another world.

Madigan’s voice came next. “How much longer will you hold out, Jack? How much longer will you listen to the love of your life suffer?”

“Jesus Christ,” Anderson growled. “That’s Ethan Reichenbach.” He whipped around, growling to the radio room to turn the transmission off the main speakers, and then grabbed the intercom handheld and pulled it down. “Patch me into the ship-to-shore radio. Jack Spiers is still out there, and damn it, he needs our help.”

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Kara Sea - Madigan’s Base Camp