she was in no condition to answer any questions right now. Not unless she wanted to end up in an insane asylum—or worse.
After she was out of sight of the barracks, she crawled out of the ditch and lifted herself painfully to her feet. A road on the left led away from both the town and the barracks, so she took it, her eyes peeled for any kind of shelter—a barn, a chicken coop, even a pile of old ruins would hide her from passing eyes. Finally, a dark shape emerged on the side of the road—a thick copse of trees. She stumbled toward it. The darkness thickened as she passed under the first branches. She had gone only a few feet when she tripped again. This time, she didn’t even try to get up for several minutes. Eventually, she pulled herself to sitting and leaned against the thick trunk of a tree. She found Eamon’s rosary in her purse, pressed it to her lips, and started to pray.
An explosion ripped through the night, jolting her awake. Immediately her instincts—and training—kicked in. She threw herself to the ground and covered her head. Shouts and cheers followed the explosion. Something shattered through the trees and landed with a thud beside her.
She opened her eyes and peeked through her arms. Lying on the ground at her feet was the naked, bloodied body of a man.
Chapter Nine
Nora stifled her screams, her wide eyes fixed on the man splayed on the ground beside her. He moaned, and she pressed her hands against her mouth. The men on the road jeered, and someone shouted, “We’ll come back when it’s light to collect the bodies, lads.” The roar of lorries bumping down the uneven road faded. Then silence.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Nora breathed. She was shaking too badly to stand, but she managed to crawl closer to where the red-haired man lay bleeding. The clouds had cleared, and the moon shone through the trees. She felt for a pulse—he was still alive. “Hello?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?” His only answer was a tortured moan. He did not even open his eyes.
Nora scrambled to her feet, then leaned against the nearest tree as a wave of dizziness passed over her. “Right. Get yourself together,” she muttered. Moving as slowly and quietly as she could manage, she crept through the trees until she could see the road. There was a rough crater in the middle of it. Around it, glowing eerily in the moonlight, lay the destroyed remains of several men. Nora covered her mouth in horror. The men had been blown up by some sort of explosive—a land mine, by the looks of it. Body parts were strewn around haphazardly, limbs torn from torsos, entrails spilling out into the dirt, faces unrecognizable. The stench of charred flesh filled her nostrils. Nora stepped back too quickly and found herself sprawled on the ground beside a chunk of flesh that was still burning. With a stifled yell, she got to her feet and ran back to the man in the woods. The sole survivor of this massacre.
He was still breathing. She stripped off her jacket and covered his torso, laying it gently over him so as to not exacerbate his injuries. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t leave him here to die alone in the woods. But she knew she couldn’t hope to carry him—or even drag him—very far. She looked up at the sky. How long until the soldiers came back?
Go, get out of here, get back to the cathedral , she told herself. But the man at her feet moaned again, and his eyes fluttered open.
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m going to help you.” She placed her hand on his forehead and smoothed back his singed hair, then gathered leaves and light branches and covered the rest of his body as best she could. “You must stay quiet,” she said, not sure if he could even hear her. Her own ears were still ringing from the blast. “If they come back, they might look for you. I’m going to get help.”
But from where? Who could she even trust? She squeezed his hand lightly, then found her way back to the road, praying
After she was out of sight of the barracks, she crawled out of the ditch and lifted herself painfully to her feet. A road on the left led away from both the town and the barracks, so she took it, her eyes peeled for any kind of shelter—a barn, a chicken coop, even a pile of old ruins would hide her from passing eyes. Finally, a dark shape emerged on the side of the road—a thick copse of trees. She stumbled toward it. The darkness thickened as she passed under the first branches. She had gone only a few feet when she tripped again. This time, she didn’t even try to get up for several minutes. Eventually, she pulled herself to sitting and leaned against the thick trunk of a tree. She found Eamon’s rosary in her purse, pressed it to her lips, and started to pray.
An explosion ripped through the night, jolting her awake. Immediately her instincts—and training—kicked in. She threw herself to the ground and covered her head. Shouts and cheers followed the explosion. Something shattered through the trees and landed with a thud beside her.
She opened her eyes and peeked through her arms. Lying on the ground at her feet was the naked, bloodied body of a man.
Chapter Nine
Nora stifled her screams, her wide eyes fixed on the man splayed on the ground beside her. He moaned, and she pressed her hands against her mouth. The men on the road jeered, and someone shouted, “We’ll come back when it’s light to collect the bodies, lads.” The roar of lorries bumping down the uneven road faded. Then silence.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Nora breathed. She was shaking too badly to stand, but she managed to crawl closer to where the red-haired man lay bleeding. The clouds had cleared, and the moon shone through the trees. She felt for a pulse—he was still alive. “Hello?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?” His only answer was a tortured moan. He did not even open his eyes.
Nora scrambled to her feet, then leaned against the nearest tree as a wave of dizziness passed over her. “Right. Get yourself together,” she muttered. Moving as slowly and quietly as she could manage, she crept through the trees until she could see the road. There was a rough crater in the middle of it. Around it, glowing eerily in the moonlight, lay the destroyed remains of several men. Nora covered her mouth in horror. The men had been blown up by some sort of explosive—a land mine, by the looks of it. Body parts were strewn around haphazardly, limbs torn from torsos, entrails spilling out into the dirt, faces unrecognizable. The stench of charred flesh filled her nostrils. Nora stepped back too quickly and found herself sprawled on the ground beside a chunk of flesh that was still burning. With a stifled yell, she got to her feet and ran back to the man in the woods. The sole survivor of this massacre.
He was still breathing. She stripped off her jacket and covered his torso, laying it gently over him so as to not exacerbate his injuries. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t leave him here to die alone in the woods. But she knew she couldn’t hope to carry him—or even drag him—very far. She looked up at the sky. How long until the soldiers came back?
Go, get out of here, get back to the cathedral , she told herself. But the man at her feet moaned again, and his eyes fluttered open.
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m going to help you.” She placed her hand on his forehead and smoothed back his singed hair, then gathered leaves and light branches and covered the rest of his body as best she could. “You must stay quiet,” she said, not sure if he could even hear her. Her own ears were still ringing from the blast. “If they come back, they might look for you. I’m going to get help.”
But from where? Who could she even trust? She squeezed his hand lightly, then found her way back to the road, praying
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