The Last Survivor (A Wilde/Chase Short Story)

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‘No!’

Nina Wilde jerked awake, the single word a fearful gasp. She looked about in near-panic before familiar surroundings took on form in the half-light seeping through the curtains. Her bedroom, safe and secure. Heart still thudding against her chest, she forced her breathing to slow.

A mumble from beside her. ‘What is it?’ asked her husband, Eddie Chase.

‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘Go back to sleep.’

The Englishman seemed to return to his slumber, but Nina knew after six years together that he was a very light sleeper; his former career in the British military’s elite Special Air Service had trained him to snap to full alertness at the slightest prompt. She checked the bedside clock: 4.32 a.m. The light outside was spill from the street lamps eight floors below, dawn still almost two hours away.

But Nina knew she would not get back to sleep — nor did she want to. She had suffered the same nightmare for weeks, the recurring scene all the more terrifying because it had actually happened.

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