Page 25 of The Unknown Birds

Heading off in the same direction as Cooper, she figured he turned down the first communication avenue, so she kept going down the forward line, squeezing past groups of other soldiers, heart pounding in her ears, feeling as though she’d already run a mile.

Moving on instinct as the captain had told her, she pictured the map in her head, the official names of each combat line and communication trench swimming around on the page as she tried to pin them to their proper locations.

She couldn’t recall exactly where St. George’s Street was in relation to herself, only that she was pretty sure it was to the northeast, so she continued on, hoping that at some point she’d see a sign she recognized to help her find them.

Chest burning, Ash came to an abrupt halt when her way was suddenly blocked by a muddy cave-in. All around her, men were hard at work with shovels and entrenching tools, cutting through the collapsed mud to clear the path and building up a new side with fresh sandbags.

“You’ll have to go over,” a northern accent told her. It was either that or waste precious minutes running back the way she’d come.

“Go on,” another man said. “They’ve been quiet enough tonight. Tell Ned to hold the wire for you.”

The first man nodded. “Hop on the fire step, and I’ll give you another leg up.” So she heaved herself up onto the high step as Rook had done when he’d taken the watch.

The man stepped up beside her, bending his knee so she could use his thigh for another boost and offering his hand to steady her.

Hardly breathing, Ash grabbed his hand and shoulder, then stepped onto his leg gaining just enough height to slither over the parapet on her belly.

A man in the midst of repairing barbed wire turned on her, revolver in hand.

“Don’t shoot,” she whispered. “Ned?”

He put one aggressive finger to his lips and motioned for her to keep going, so she slid under the wire and crawled through the mud on all fours until she got up the nerve to run. She hadn’t gone more than a few meters when sniper shots rang out, whizzing so close she could swear she felt them like the beat of a mosquito’s wings.

Her heart may have actually stopped and she definitely wet herself before she tripped over a body and stumbled back into the forward line, thankfully on the other side of the cave-in, where she lay, winded, on her back. Everything hurt, almost too much to breathe.

“You hit?” a man asked, peering into her face.

“Don’t think so,” she gasped, and after he helped her up and handed back her helmet, she asked him, “Am I close to St. George’s Street?”

“Aye. But there’s easier ways to get there.” He pointed eastward. “Take the next left. You’ll see the signs.”

“Thanks,” she told him.

“Thought you were a raider. Lucky you didn’t get the business end of my bayonet,” he replied, sending a shiver down her spine before he turned back to face the expanse called No Man’s Land once more.

The mud covering Ash from head to toe was beginning to dry, weighing down her uniform, by the time she found Captain Owens in his dugout reading a letter.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“Trench collapsed. I had to go over the top.”

“Davies sent you?”

She nodded.

“Wasted your time, then. Your friends have been and gone.”

Ash was glad they’d made it through, but she wasn’t looking forward to the exhausting run back to Cherrydale Lane as she turned down the avenue once more.

“Wait,” Owens called after her. “I’m down a runner. I need you to take another message.”

“To Captain Davies, sir?”

“No. Maricourt Trench.”

Ashley’s heart fell. Maricourt must be at least another mile east.

“Can’t be helped,” Owens said, shoving his note at her. “Major Mayweather. Deliver it and then get your arse back to your post. We go over the top at 7:30 sharp.”