by Dawn Brower
He was quiet for a while, and when he spoke, she could barely hear him. “I can’t be their friend.”
“Why not,” she asked surprised.
“A friend would never ask them to die for them.” Colonel Murphy stared at his men. “I’d like to promise each one of them they’ll make it back home, but honestly, most of them will either die or lose a limb. War is too harsh for anything else.”
His frustration and inner pain rushed through her before she could put up a shield. It almost decimated her before she worked to block it. Her exhaustion was starting to take a toll on her abilities. She wanted to protect them all. Wrap them in a bubble where nothing could touch them; however, she realized even that could bust at any moment and allow the danger in. Fragile barriers weren’t tough enough to stop a war from destroying them… “I understand,” she said. “You have to make the hard decisions, and if you’re too close to them, you won’t be able to do your job. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to pretend this isn’t real.”
“This isn’t a fight you can win,” she said. “You’re damned either way, and there’s no good decision for you to make. I wish there was…”
“Colonel,” a soldier shouted as he ran over to him. “Men are approaching from the west.”
“Everyone to your stations,” Colonel Murphy shouted. “Richards and Samson, man the mortars. Smith and Anderson, take the machine guns. The rest of you, have your rifles ready.”
Catherine knew what part she played. After the bullets stopped flying she’d be doing her best to patch up the injuries that would inevitably happen after the battle. There was no telling how long this one would last either. She’d be no good to any of them if one of those bullets found their way to her. There had to be some place she could take cover. They were in a forest surrounded by various types of vegetation.
She ran south to find someplace to hide. Catherine slid to the ground and crawled behind a large tree surrounded by several bushes. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she’d scraped her hand on a branch. Blood mixed with the dirt and stung with pain. The sound of gunfire echoed the air as the skirmish heated up. Tears fell from her eyes, drenching her cheeks. Catherine crouched down as far as she could and put her head between her knees while covering her ears in an attempt to drown out the sound. She hated war and the damage it brought.
War had to be the worst thing ever created. Who ever thought something so terrible was a good idea? Asher hadn’t seen Catherine in months and hadn’t had a chance to write to her. She had to be worried sick about him. Somehow, he had to find a way back to Paris and wrap his arms around her.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Private James asked. “Shouldn’t we be heading north?”
“We are going north,” he insisted.
James pulled out his compass and stared down at it. “I hate to be disagreeable, but we’re a little off course.”
Asher sighed and yanked the compass out of his hand. Damn it all—James was right. He’d been lost in his own thoughts and wandered off the path. “Bloody hell…”
“It’s not too late to correct it,” Private James said.
Asher let out a breath and handed him the compass. They were heading to Ypres to deliver a missive to Colonel Murphy. He had information that would help the colonel when they came across the Germans. It might save lives… Asher had been working tirelessly to give them an edge in the war. He wanted it to all end so he could marry Catherine and build a life with her. As long as the damn war went on, he wouldn’t have a chance at that.
They turned toward the correct path and proceeded in silence for several moments. The sound Asher heard was the occasional branch snapping under his feet. He was thankful that it was no longer freezing, but the spring weather still held a little chill to it. After they walked a while, gunshots echoed in the distance. He stopped and James also halted beside him. “That can’t be good,” Asher said.
They continued in silence careful of each step they made. Gunfire meant they were heading into a battle. The sole regiment Asher was aware of that headed in the same direction was Colonel Murphy’s. Asher had no choice but to continue on. He had to see the colonel and give him the information he’d gathered.
“Do you think…” James started to speak, but Asher held his hand up to silence him.
Someone was running in their direction. Branches snapped repeatedly in rapid succession. A flash of dark hair and blue clothing caught his attention, then a woman dived behind a nearby bush. His heart beat heavily in his chest. He rushed over to where she had hidden and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Catherine?” She screamed and covered her mouth to silence it, then came to her feet, throwing her arms around him. Tears stained her face and she shook uncontrollably. “Sshhh,” he soothed her. “It’s all right. I have you.”
“You’re here.” Her voice wobbled as she spoke. “I finally found you.”
Drat. He knew she’d be worried, but he never thought she’d actually come looking for him. He had to find someone to escort her back. Asher glanced at James, but the man was already shaking his head. They still had to get the message to Colonel Murphy, but he couldn’t let Catherine stay where she was in danger.
“How did you know where to find me?” Asher asked.
“I didn’t,” she said. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere. I’m here right now because the colonel told me to run if they ever went into battle.”
It was worse than he’d first thought. How could she have gotten herself into this mess? He would have to take her back to Paris. It had to be safer there, even if there was no real safe place anymore. “Why are you with the colonel to begin with?”
“It’s an interesting story, but I’d rather not tell you about it now. Let’s say he has appreciated my nursing skills, and in turn, he’s kept me safe.”
He took a deep breath and reminded himself she was unharmed. His Catherine would be all right—he’d ensure it with his last breath if necessary. He reached inside his pocket and handed the missive to James. “He can’t be far ahead. Run this to him and come back here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” James said.
“Just do what I ask for once.” Asher was tired of James and his orders to protect him. “We don’t have time to argue.”
James grabbed the note and ran the note to the colonel. Asher couldn’t let go of Catherine. He couldn’t make himself believe she was actually there. It terrified him in ways he couldn’t fully describe. He’d been thinking of her and it was like she had magically appeared.
“I’m all right,” she whispered. “Now that I’ve found you—I had a vision…”
“A vision?” He frowned. “Is that why you came looking for me? You can’t let that kind of nonsense determine your actions.”
“Don’t dismiss my visions as nothing,” she lectured. Her voice held a mixture of frustration tinged with anger. “They are real, and if the one I had comes true, you will die. I have to prevent that.”
He didn’t get a chance to respond. Asher had allowed himself to become distracted, and they were now surrounded by several German soldiers—all pointing their rifles at them. Slowly, he raised his hands and she did the same. They were about to become prisoners of war, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Chapter 11
Catherine wiped the sweat off her brow and surveyed the area. They’d been in the enemy camp for three weeks. When they’d realized she was a nurse, the Germans had decided to put her to work. The German camp had a small field hospital as a part of it. She didn’t mind because helping others had been ingrained in her. It also gave her the opportunity to survey the camp and become essentially invisible. They were so accustomed to her presence that they barely noticed her. She hoped to find a way to escape, but not without Asher. He was held in a different part of the camp, and she hadn’t seen him since they’d been captured. The battalion she’d been traveling with had been decimated. The Ger
man soldiers had bragged about surprising them all. If she’d been with them, she might have died too.
The pain of this war would haunt her for many days, probably years to come. She’d tried to not get too attached to any of the soldiers, but she’d been fooling herself. Catherine couldn’t distance herself from anyone. Her empathy didn’t work that way. She’d always intuit far more than she wanted. Emotions were both her weakness and strength depending on how she used them. She hated herself for feeling even an ounce of relief for having survived when they had all died.
“Nurse,” someone yelled. They’d learned that she wouldn’t respond if they spoke to her in German. She’d started to understand some of the words, but had belligerently decided to ignore them. They might be making her work for them, but she didn’t have to make it easy. “Come here.”
Silently, she headed over to the doctor who’d yelled for her. He spoke enough English to give her directions, and she’d worked with him most of the time. She’d helped with numerous surgeries, but she’d mainly been tasked with patient care in the field hospital. She re-bandaged wounds, sat with soldiers as they healed, and in some cases, as they drew their last breaths.
“How may I help?” She kept her head bowed so she didn’t meet his gaze. Catherine had discovered they took it as a sign of acceptance and modesty. It helped portray her as harmless. For the most part, she was—she’d never hurt any of them intentionally. She did have motives she didn’t want them aware of though. When the time was right, she would leave the camp, Asher at her side.
“This man needs a sponge bath and his bandages changed. His wounds are looking septic.” The doctor gestured to a man on the bed. “We can’t afford to lose any men.”
Catherine wanted to scream at him. No one deserved to die needlessly. Both sides had good men who didn’t deserve to die in a useless war. It didn’t matter who actually won the war because, in the end, they were all losers. So much death and despair… She hated every second of it. Somehow, she managed to keep those thoughts to herself. If the doctor had a reason to scrutinize her, she wouldn’t be able to escape with Asher. “I’ll take care of him,” she told him. She didn’t say anything else so he would forget about her as fast as possible. Catherine gathered the supplies she required for the task he’d assigned her and started taking care of the soldier.
He groaned as she pulled the bandages away. A yellow puss oozed from the wound. She couldn’t be certain if the doctor was right about the soldier’s condition, but they didn’t look as if they were healing properly either. Catherine washed the wounds carefully, trying to alleviate any extra discomfort she caused by her ministrations. The man’s eyes fluttered open, and he met her gaze. “You’re the British nurse,” he said in perfect English.
“I am,” she replied demurely. “How are you feeling?” A part of her was uncomfortable in his presence. She hadn’t expected him to speak her language with such ease. “I don’t want to add to your discomfort.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he responded. His accent was thick and clipped as he spoke. “I’ll be fine.”
She irrigated the wound to flush it out until it was free of puss. His skin was red around the edges, but pink on the inside. It might not be as bad as the doctor had believed. “You’re brave.” She had no idea what else to say to him, but she didn’t know if she could handle the pain he had to be enduring.
“Not really.” He barely managed that much as she bandaged the open wound. She didn’t know why the doctor hadn’t stitched it up, but she had to cover it to prevent any further infection. “There’s not much else I can do. A man isn’t allowed to give in to fears or crying fits.”
“You would be surprised.” She secured the bandage and moved on to the next wound. “I’ve seen plenty of tears since this war began. You don’t have to hold them back because I’m present.”
He didn’t respond at all and kept his gaze away from her. Why were men afraid of crying in front of a woman anyway? It showed they were human and capable of a full range of emotions. What she didn’t say to him was that she could ascertain his feelings without the presence of tears anyway. That would probably freak him out a little bit. She could also see auras if she tried hard enough, but she didn’t embrace that gift often. Her visions and empathy were more reliable when determining a course of action. The only time and aura could be found useful was when Catherine wanted to know if a person told the truth or not. Emotions for that could be unreliable. Something about this soldier seemed off, and she decided to check his aura. His English was too good.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Berlin,” he said quickly. The colors around him swirled with several colors from green, to red, then full on purple. He was lying…
She sat back and studied him. “Where are you really from?”
“I already told you,” he insisted and continued to avoid looking at her directly.
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t tell me, but I know you’re lying to me.” She stood up and tossed the used bandages in the nearby waste. “I’m done with your wounds. If you’re willing to have an honest conversation with me, I’ll be around.”
Catherine spun on her heels and went to the back of the infirmary to rest. Exhaustion had become a normal part of her day to day life, and sometimes she had to give in to it. If she planned on escaping, then she’d need to be at her best. Soon she’d be able to act, and then she’d rescue Asher. They’d be gone before anyone realized it. The issue with the soldier went to the back of her mind to be examined later as she closed her eyes for some much needed rest.
Two weeks later…
Asher couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this miserable. The building they’d erected to hold their prisoners of war had a dirt floor and a roof that leaked. Most of the time, the latter didn’t matter; however, when it rained, everything was drenched, and they had mud for a bed. Not for one night, but days on end… To say discouragement had become like a second skin to him would be an understatement. He didn’t know how he was going to find a way out of this mess, and he had no idea what was happening with Catherine. His mind took him places no man should go. He had to escape and find her before he went insane. At least it hadn’t rained recently, and the ground was finally almost dry from the last storm.
His door scraped against the ground. Asher rose to his feet and leaned against the wall, prepared for whatever might be stepping through. They didn’t come in to check on him often. The other man he’d been in the room with had died, and they hadn’t realized it for several days. It was one of the worst experiences of his life. The smell had permeated the air, and he’d had trouble breathing through it. As bad as the stench had been, that was also what had clued the soldiers in that something was off. They’d dragged the body out not long after that. He didn’t want to think about what they had done with it. Now one of them was entering the make-shift prison. It couldn’t be for anything good.
“Ash,” a female whispered. “Are you in here?”
“Catherine?” He hobbled over to her. His left foot consisted of pins and needles stabbing him from all angles. With the constant wetness, he hadn’t been able to keep his feet—well, anything really—dry, and he feared he might’ve developed a condition some of the men experienced in the trenches. At night, it became plenty cold, and he had started to acquire some of the common symptoms. “How?”
“We don’t have a lot of time. Come quickly,” she gestured to him. “The sentries will be coming back by soon.”
Asher didn’t need to be told twice. It took some effort, but he managed to limp out of the shed and follow her. The night sky kept them covered in darkness—even the moon was on their side. It had dwindled down to a quarter moon, and not much light illuminated their escape. They stopped near a tent, and he held her back so he could scan the area. He might not be at his best, but he still wanted to protect her. “Wait,” he urged her.
“Are your injuries bothering you? I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to rush yo
u.” She hugged him tightly. “But we have to make haste, or we might get caught.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Darling,” he began. “It’s not that—though my foot does hurt something fierce. I’m trying to be careful so we make it out intact.”
“We have a very small opening, and we don’t have time to be that careful.” She glanced past him. “Don’t worry too much please. Someone is helping me with this, and you can trust him.”
Ash wanted to believe her, but he had trouble trusting anyone he didn’t vet himself. He rubbed his hand across her lower back, reassured she was all right, but still stressed that they were not yet safe. “We can discuss the faith you put into strangers later. Where are we heading?”
“There is an ambulance—it’s one of those Rover Sunbeams. I don’t know how to drive an autocar, but I do find it fascinating. I digress though… It goes out to bring in the injured or the ones that transfers them to a bigger hospital.” She stepped out of his arms and wrapped her hand around his wrist and led him to the side of another building. “We’re going to use it to escape, and luckily the regular driver has agreed to assist us.”
He was grateful she was alive and that she’d helped him escape; however, she’d lost her bloody mind. “You’re going to trust a German?”
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. His injuries made things difficult for him to move as fast as he’d have liked. It made him neurotic, and he couldn’t stop looking back to make sure no one followed. With Catherine’s life at stake, he couldn’t be too careful.
“No, silly,” she said then kissed his cheek. “I’m going to trust a British spy.”
They stopped when they heard voices coming from the tent. “Are you sure this will work,” a male asked in German. Asher understood enough to decipher the meaning. He placed a hand on Catherine’s waist to stop her from moving. “I want to listen.” She nodded and stayed in place. The pain had grown in intensity, and he grimaced as it shot through him. Somehow, he managed to remain upright.