Page 12 of The Unknown Birds

When she reached for it, he pulled the rifle away and removed the bayonet, tossing it safely aside.

“You must have grown up in the country to know so much about guns,” she guessed.

“Must I?” he asked.

“Am I wrong?” When he didn’t answer she added, “Some fancy country estate?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Holborn.”

“London, really? But you sound so posh.”

“That’s how you get ahead when you grow up somewhere like Holborn. Or Whitechapel,” he added, having sussed her out from the go.

She tucked her chin, a bit affronted that her own accent had given her away so easily.

“Do you remember how to hold it?" he asked, but no sooner had she lifted the heavy rifle than B Company began to flood onto the range.

Rook’s guttural sigh was almost a growl. It made Ashley’s blood run hot, so clearly did it illustrate her own feelings on the untimely interruption.

The other soldiers pushed and jostled and teased, all of them eager to show off their skills and one-up each other in front of their friends.

“Line up evenly or I shall line you up,” an older officer shouted, while another quietly observed, arms crossed, off to the side.

Ashley had hoped her trainee status might afford her some reprieve—at least allow her to stand at the back of the line and watch—but the others still jockeyed for position at the second target, and by virtue of stepping out of their way she became first of the first, with TomTom just behind.

As the older officer strode towards the middle swarm, boys suddenly sprang apart, filling out all three lines.

“Name?” he barked, and Ashley’s mouth went dry.

“Ch-Charley Ashley.”

“Sergeant Major Chapman.”

“Pleasure, sir.”

The sergeant major laughed out loud at that. “It is, ain’t it?" he asked with a grin. “Right, Ashley, you’re up. Give me one shot right down the middle and show the others how it’s done.”

She glanced nervously at Rook, who nodded from his position in the back.

Hoisting the gun to her shoulder felt unnatural, and her arm began to tremble, but she bit her lip, closed one eye, took aim, and fired.

Except nothing happened.

Rook coughed, and when she looked back at him, he made a motion with his finger, just as Tom whispered, “Safety.”

“Let’s go, Private, haven’t got all day,” Chapman called.

Blushing fiercely, Ash unlatched the safety and pulled the trigger once more. The gun bucked like a horse bitten by a gadfly, bashing her shoulder and chin, while everyone ducked as though her shot went very wild.

The officers converged on her. The red-faced sergeant major looked as though a vein were about to pop right out of his neck, and the other was obviously screaming, but all Ash could hear was the raging ringing in her ears.

She relatched the safety and slid to one knee, using her rifle as support while she rubbed her throbbing shoulder, but Sergeant Major Chapman jerked her to her feet.

This time she could hear his voice, soft and far away, like she was underwater.

“What the bloody hell was that? Have you forgotten every fucking thing you’ve been taught? You took that shot like it’s your first damn day on the range!”

“It is, sir,” she whispered—or thought she did. It sounded loud to her own deafened ears.