𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Chapter 8 - Come back home

(revised)

I wasn't able to focus on my work anymore. All I could think about was Andrew and the danger he was facing at the moment. Fearing for his life, I had done that for months, but my fear had doubled since he had given me a taste of what life by his side would be. I hoped he was safe and coming back to me, but the day was slowly coming to an end, and the pilots hadn't returned yet. All the men who had left in the morning had made it home safe and I was hoping it would be the same for those who had left in the afternoon, but they had been gone for more than two hours now and it did not look good. Their planes couldn't have enough fuel to fly for so long. I refused to face the truth and kept on telling myself that Andrew would come back to me, no matter what. There was no other possibility because I couldn't live without him. We had so much more things to live together. I needed him to hold me in his arms, and to kiss me again. I needed to meet his bright eyes every day and to see in them how much he loved me. So, he had to come back.

I looked at the group of pilots gathered at the centre of the room, around the table where Andrew used to be. They were talking about their mission of the morning with much seriousness. The pilots who had survived were describing what they had seen while fighting and I listened carefully.

"It was a mess guys. German planes were everywhere, bombing all the vessels they could see."

"Yeah, I saw men jump into the sea, trying to flee their sinking ships. And then those fucking Nazis were shooting them like pigeons. Those guys had no chance to survive."

"What about Dunkirk? How is it there?" one enquired.

"We didn't reach Dunkirk. Too many enemies on our way there. But we did see it from afar. Well, we saw a great cloud of smoke rising over the horizon..."

"A hell it must be there. We're quite lucky to be safe, mate."

"For sure we are."

At their face, I could see that they were not exaggerating. And I feared for Andrew's life even more. The anxiety I had tried to control was growing stronger and stronger, making me feel like someone was sitting on my chest and preventing me from breathing properly.

"How were German planes?"

"Aggressive, like, they were coming from nowhere. Thank God they weren't good enough to put us down."

"What about the second team? Why aren't they back yet?"

"Don't know. But according to me, it looks pretty bad. They should be back already."

"The three of them can't be down. Not the three of them, it's too much!"

"I know, they're the best of us. But it's war, mate. You never know what can happen..."

"Fuck, I can't believe that. Farrier is so experienced; the man can kill ten planes by himself. And Collins, sure he's young but he's skilled! Can beat the enemy easily, he's fast as hell... I can't believe we must have lost them."

Having heard enough, I stood up abruptly at their last sentence, causing my chair to fall on the ground. They all looked at me, remembering I had been there the whole time.

"What are you talking about?" I said with a trembling voice. "They're going to come back. It's not too late."

Johnson moved carefully towards me while the others looked at me with what appeared as compassion.

"Freya... It's been almost three hours now."

"And what?" I asked even if I already knew what he meant.

"They're probably not coming back. Collins is not coming back."

He wanted me to face reality now, but reality was painful. Too painful.