Chapter 2
Two
Enoch
The car bounced over the speedbump at an alarming height and I slapped Graham’s shoulder.
“Bro. Are you trying to get a ticket? At least wait until we exit the gate to speed.”
“Honestly, I don’t know why I ever agree to let you drive us to events, Graham,” Brewer said from the front seat.
We were packed in like sardines. Three of us squeezed in the backseat with me in the middle.
Apparently, being under six feet meant I was best suited to the middle seat.
I was only an inch shorter than Valencia, but in the three months since I got stationed at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson I had already learned that he was a whiner.
Seemed like most people complied with whatever he was bitching about because it was the easiest and the quickest way to get him to shut up.
I hadn’t meshed well with anyone from my shop.
Well, except for Ford and Navarro. Although, Navarro was older and focused more on his family than spending time with boys from work.
If it weren’t for Jae moving up here with me, I’d have spent way too much time in my dorm.
But thank heck he did, and we were able to buy a nice place near base in the suburbs.
It was dirt cheap, but it also hadn’t been updated since the seventies.
We were on our way to some team bonding event our supervisor had set up for our shop.
It was supposed to be yesterday with a day away from the office that I definitely wouldn’t have complained about, but someone screwed up the booking date and here we were on a Saturday afternoon.
And of course they made a whole day of it, treating us to brunch beforehand.
Since I moved here, I’d gotten into the routine of going to church on Saturdays, and it felt weird to be missing the service, to be veering away from my routine.
I was admittedly skeptical about attending church again, but it had made a profoundly positive impact on my life.
I even convinced Jae to attend with me, something I didn’t think he’d ever do having never attended church previously.
I was determined to not let this change in my routine set me off kilter, but I was beginning to regret agreeing to carpool instead of driving myself to the event.
It was an awkward twenty-seven minutes stuck between Valencia and Ford before we finally parked, and I was able to climb out of the car.
I stretched my body out, grateful to no longer be trapped and glanced around the parking lot.
We’d definitely made it here last since the rest of the shop was huddled outside the building waiting for us.
“Damn, Graham. I thought you had a lead foot. How the hell did we beat you here?” Onassi, our supervisor, called out as we crossed the parking lot towards her.
Graham raised his hands, “Brewer held us up. And Rez was sniveling about me driving too fast, so I had to go the speed limit like an old lady.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled and followed the guys into the gym.
Onassi took charge, conversing with the front desk to confirm our reservation for a group pass and beginner’s instruction for the handful of us who had never been rock climbing before and had no clue what we were doing.
Apparently, two-thirds of the shop had already received their belay certificates, so it was Hanson, Ford, Michaels and me that had to take the beginner’s class with the instructor.
I stared up at the large rock walls. There were several people not in our group already climbing. Some on a lower wall without any gear on, while others were connected to ropes and scaling the walls all the way to the damn top.
I shook my head at the dizzying height, zeroing in on the sound of Onassi’s voice.
“Listen up, airmen! You already signed the waivers, so don’t make me regret bringing you out here. You follow Brett’s instructions, no funny business, and let’s all leave here as healthy as we entered, if not a little sore.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we all chorused, and she broke away with a chuckle and a pat on Brett’s arm.
I think she warned him about us acting like toddlers.
Most of our shop was filled with airmen closer to eighteen, some of us more mature than others, but at twenty-three it did feel a bit like babysitting when I was grouped in with my younger peers.
Sometimes I forgot I was only a few years older than them.
I felt more like a thirty year-old, than a someone closer to eighteen.
Brett began demonstrating how to strap into the harness and between Hanson whispering to Michaels the whole time and the blaring rock music in the background I was essentially screwed as Brett handed out the harnesses for us to put on.
Ford tripped, his shoe stuck on one of the leg straps and he crashed into me.
“Jesus, this isn’t emasculating at all. As if we don’t have to have our junk trapped between these straps, I can’t even get my damn feet in,” Ford grumbled as I helped right him.
I chuckled, glancing down at my crotch to see how the harness had bunched up my gym shorts to accentuate the area.
“You’re right,” I laughed, trying to adjust myself. “The thigh straps make it impossible to hide anything.”
“Shit,” Ford muttered as he yet again tripped.
“Can I help you out, man?” Brett asked, suddenly standing right in front of Ford.
“Uh, yeah. It’s just these damn straps. They keep getting caught on my shoes.”
“Here,” Brett motioned for Ford to hand him the harness.
“If you set it up properly on the floor, you shouldn’t have an issue.
So, waist loop with the buckle facing down in the back.
Right leg is this blue one, so—ah, I see the problem.
There’s a knot here in this loop. Let me just get a new harness. I’ll be back in two seconds.”
Brett walked away and Ford gave me a look.
“See. I’m not a complete idiot. The harness had a knot in it.”
“You sure you didn’t create that knot with all your stumbling?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Oh, fuck off, Rezzie. You can’t say shit when your junk looks like that.”
I shoved him over and my eyes caught on the redhead across the room. My heart skipped a beat, and another, but I took a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut. When I opened them, she was no longer in sight.
“Here you go. Let’s try this one,” Brett said to Ford. “And then I’ll check everyone’s harness before we start the belay instructions.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to take your lunch and I can cover for you, Brett.”
That voice.
“Thanks, Emory. I’ll just finish the guys up with the belay basics and then I’ll take my break.”
Emory. I sighed, scolding myself for being so dramatic. She’s dead, Nox. Stop looking for her every time you see a redhead.
Brett had finished with Ford’s harness, and tugged on mine, tightening some of my straps slightly. I resisted the urge to turn around and get a better look at Emory.
“Everything feel comfortable?” He asked.
“Uh, yeah. Everything’s good.”
“Alright.”
We finished the instructions with Brett, learning about how to clip ourselves into the auto-belay on the wall. I guess it wasn’t uncommon for people to forget to clip it back to the wall because there was a bright lettered sign right next to it with a reminder to ‘CLIP IN!’.
We practiced clipping in, checking the double locks on the carabiner, and then unclipping.
It was a slow fifteen minutes as I was struggling to keep my thoughts straight.
It didn’t always shake me up whenever I saw someone that looked like her.
But the voice too, fuck. I was stupid for letting it bother me and drag up memories.
I didn’t think I’d ever really move on from Shiloh.
She was etched into my skin. I didn’t want to forget her.
But four and half years later I still found myself wondering what it would have been like if she’d not taken her own life.
Wondering if we would have stayed together when I left for the military.
Wondering if she would have gone to college somewhere or maybe moved in with Sebastian and Eden and worked until she figured out what career she wanted to pursue.
The possibilities were endless and finite at the same time. That’s what happened when you committed suicide. There were no more ifs. Just could-have-beens that would never become reality for the person you wished had stayed to live them out.
A loud smack had us all shooting our gaze to the wall.
“You okay?” Brett shouted.
“Yeah,” Brewer called out. “Just slipped.”
Brett watched on for a moment longer and then nodded to himself.
“Okay. So, do you guys feel confident in using the belay? Any questions?”
I glanced between the guys.
“No questions here,” I said.
“Great. Well, if anything comes up, Emory will be right over there,” he pointed in the direction of the front desk behind us. “Remember, clip in, check and check again, and you’ll be fine.”
We nodded and Brett walked away.
“Well,” Ford muttered, glancing around the wall. “It looks like we’ll have to take turns, all the other automatic belays are taken. So, who’s first?”
“Yeah, I’ll go,” Hanson said with chin nod.
I stepped out of the way, watching him get his harness clipped. I tuned out the chatter amongst the other guys and nodded my head along to the music absentmindedly.
“Um, guys, what do I do again when I’m ready to get down?” Hanson called out.
“Just let go and brace yourself with your feet,” Emory shouted. “The rope will slow you down, so you won’t fall fast. There’s lots of resistance on the rope.”
“Yeah, Hanson. Watch,” Brewer called from further to the right. He let his hands fall to his sides and gently kicked off from the wall. He stopped himself a few feet down by bracing his feet.
Hanson took another twenty seconds to actually let himself fall, a small shriek escaping him as he slowly fell towards the ground.
“You’re fine,” Onassi said, shaking her head from the very top of the wall just to his left.
Hanson grimaced when his feet finally landed on the ground. “Yeah, I’m not a fan of rock climbing. I’ll save it for you adrenaline junkies.”
“Not it,” I called, stepping farther back from my group. “Ford. You go.”
“Jeez, you’re a bunch of pussies.”
“No, I’m just being a considerate airman. You know, service before self.”
Ford shoved me playfully before stepping up to Hanson to take his place on the belay.
A loud whooshing sound ensued, and Ford shouted, “Watch out!”
The belay was whipping in a wild fashion all the way to the top of the wall where the device was secured.
“Shit,” Hanson cursed, looking up at the belay rope now completely wound inside the device at the top.
“Leave it! I’ll retrieve it.”
Emory approached one of the other climbers that had come here before us, one of the free climbers.
Emory and the climber worked together, Emory wearing a harness that was also connected to the rope as she pulled the slack from the line as the climber ascended.
The climber reached the top in a matter of minutes before securing the clip of the auto-belay to his own harness and descending.
“How much trouble do you think I’m gonna get in?” Hanson asked in a hushed voice.
“I think you should be worried about that Emory. She looks like she’s going to murder you,” Ford said, his head turned in her direction.
I refused to look at her face. Willing to keep torturing myself for just a little bit longer.
“Damn. I’m in deep shit. I swear her face alone could kill a man.”
“Shut up, she’s coming over here,” Ford hushed.
“Listen,” Emory said, her voice just behind me now. “First rule, clip in.”
An uneasy feeling unfurled in my gut as I slowly turned my body to face her.
Hazel eyes froze me into place.
The world stopped.
My heart stopped.
Shiloh.
I wouldn’t forget those hazy autumn eyes. I knew her. And the woman standing in front of me was supposed to be dead. I set up her funeral. I mourned her death. And yet…Shiloh.
I dug my nails into my palms hoping to ground myself, or wake up from this nightmare, but she was still there. Same long hair. Same red, foggy, hazel eyes. Same scar through her eyebrow.
How the fuck is this happening?
“Shiloh?” My voice came out a cracked whisper, but that didn’t matter when my feet were already carrying me right to her. I watched as her eyes went wide, and I couldn’t get my brain to match up to reality.
How is she here? I don’t understand. I must be dreaming or hallucinating or having some psychotic break because this isn’t possible. My Shiloh is dead. My Shiloh is gone. My Shiloh isn’t alive and working at a gym in Anchorage fucking Alaska.
Whatever fucked-up dream I was having was going to give me a damned heart attack.
“Shiloh?” I asked again, timidly reaching my hand towards her face. I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to feel if she was real. And even if she wasn’t, I would hold her in my arms for as long as the figment of my imagination lasted.
My breath stopped when my hand met her warm cheek.
“Are you real?” I choked out, my throat constricted with emotion. I blinked past the forming tears and let them fall down my face. “Say something. Please.”
I recognized the expression on her face, and it wasn’t joy or happiness to see me. Or even shock. It was fear. And my Shiloh wasn’t afraid of me.
It must be a fucking dream. It has to be.
My legs gave out, and I fell to my knees. I gave into the urge to hold her one last time and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face in her shirt.
“You’re dead. I know you’re dead. And this is a nightmare. Fuck. I miss you so much, Shiloh. I miss you and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please forgive me for not helping you sooner or being able to stop you or…”
I ran out of air in my lungs as I sobbed. My tears were soaking her shirt, and I still didn’t let go.
“Rezzie,” Ford called from beside me, his hand shaking my shoulder. “Rezzie, dude, do you know her? Are you okay?”
“Shut up, Ford! Just let me hold her for one more damned minute! Don’t ruin this nightmare.
Please, Shiloh. Just say something. Anything.
” I pleaded and begged, even as she pried my arms from her waist and Ford pulled me back into his body to keep me from going after her.
Even when I watched her cold hard stare tell the crowd she didn’t know me.
Even as she turned and raced down a back hallway.
I still muttered her name like a plea.
Until Brett came out with a taser and threatened to call the authorities if we didn’t leave immediately.
But that didn’t matter, because soon I’d wake up and have to relive the fact that Shiloh was dead and only alive in hellish nightmares like this one.