CHAPTER FIVE.   DID YOU SEE THE FRIGHTENED ONES?

HER EYES SQUINTED IN AN ATTEMPT TO SEE IN THE DARKNESS. The only thing helping her see was the light from Schofield and Blake's torches. Blake took lead while Schofield remained vigilant behind Mags. "So," Blake spoke from in front of the nurse, "you and Lieutenant Leslie, huh?"

"What are you insinuating, Blake?" Mags asked, a sharp tone overtaking her voice. This conversation could only end badly. Schofield watched from the back, a cringe overtaking his features. Something told him to stop his friend from doing anything stupid, but he knew the damage had already been done.

"I'm just saying," Blake shrugged his shoulders, a playful smirk on his lips, "you two seemed awfully close when we were about to hop on over."

"Ignore him." Schofield was quick to stop the conversation. Mags rolled her eyes, unbeknownst to the two men in her presence. As much as Blake and her argued, she couldn't help but admire the young man. He was ambitious, she'd give him that. Had he seen any real combat? His constant joking attitude told her that he hadn't. But maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Or maybe it was. She didn't have any actual combat experience either - didn't even know how to shoot a gun, if it came down to it.

They came upon a barracks inside the bunker. Her eyes widened at the size of the room and the sheer number of bunk beds it held. "Christ." Mags whispers as she runs her right index finger along one of the rusty bedframes.

"They built all this." Blake mumbles as they slowly walk through the room.

Mags glances back to see Schofield staring at a photograph pinned to one of the bedframes. It was a photo of a woman and child - the wife and child of a German soldier. "It's easy to forget they probably want to go home, too." She quietly speaks. The man's eyes land on her, watching her as she takes in the photo. "It seems we're all just children fighting wars for old men, right?" Letting out a humorless chuckle, she pulls the photo from the bedframe and quickly stuffs into her pack. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he doesn't question her, and she doesn't answer to him.

They move into a smaller room, the Officer's quarters. A large bed sits in the corner of the room while an armchair sits in the opposite corner. "There's a way through here." Schofield points out to a door.

Blake takes his time taking in the room. With a joking smile, he takes a seat on the large bed. "Hey, what about this?" He gently bounces on the bed. Both Schofield and Mags can't help the small smile that grows on their lips. The springs of the bed squeak loudly, echoing through the empty bunker.

Catching a glimpse of a small string around his neck, Mags' brows furrowed. "Blake, what's 'round your neck?"

The young man smiled widely as he pushes himself off of the bed. Pulling the string out, a necklace of bottle corks swings out from under his uniform. "I've been collecting these whiskey corks." His proud expression elicited a soft smile from the nurse. "Every time I drink a bottle of whiskey, I put the cork on it. Hoping to get two more just to make it even." The corks bumped together.

"Well, if I find any whiskey, I'll share it with you." Mags and Blake share a soft laugh.

A creak from the rafters and movement to their side causes all of them to jump back. A giant rat gnaws on a small bag that's hung from the rafters. "Bloody hell, even their rats are bigger than ours." Blake mumbles, his eyes wide from the near heart attack the rat had given them.

Glancing up, they all watch another giant and bloated rat run across the beams of the ceiling. Mags squints her eyes, looking closely at the bags hanging from the rafters. There are grease stains at the bottom of the bag. As she breathes, she catches a whiff of rotten food and gags. She coughs violently and leans her hands onto her knees."I wonder what's in these bags." Blake pokes one of the bags with the end of his rifle.

Schofield pats Mags' back as she continues to cough. "You cannot be that hungry." He rolls his eyes at his friend. When she pushes herself back up into a standing position, she sends a look of thanks to the soldier.

The rat leaps from one bag to another, the one she had just been looking at. She winces in disgust. The creature was plump and bloated. It's fur was a dark gray, almost black, and there were patches of it missing, revealing scabbed or bleeding flesh. "Look at that, cocky little bastard." Blake chuckles, rolling his eyes.

Schofield makes his way over to a crate in the corner of the room. "Here, you can eat this." He tosses a can towards Blake. When Blake questions him, a joking smile grows on the man's lips. "It's Boche dog meat." Mags winces once more. She was more than disgusted. Was that what she smelt? A shiver runs through her body. She doesn't feel comfortable. They've been there for too long. Schofield turns to go through the other crates, but freezes in his place.

"What's wrong?" Blake asks.

"Tripwire." Mags answers before Schofield can. Her wide eyes stare down at the thin wire just in front of him. "Don't move."

"No shit." Schofield whispers.

"I was talking to Blake, you ass." Mags whispers back, her voice tremulous.

"Where is it?" Blake asks as his eyes search for the wire.

"Goes from here to the door." Schofield answers, staring down at the wire in absolute terror. One wrong move and they could all die in an instant. They all share petrified looks, wondering how they would get out of this situation. As they look for a way out, a loud splat on the floor scares them. A rat drags one of the sacks on the floor. They let out a breath before realizing the rat is nearing the wire. "NO!" They shout.

They're all knocked back by the explosion. Her ears ring loudly. Her vision is blurry and her mind is spinning. Fuck. She tries to breathe, but all she does is inhale more dust and dirt. The ground above her shakes violently. The bunker's collapsing, she thinks to herself. Blake... Schofield... Did they make it? Only one way to find.

Mags forces her eyes to focus. "Blake!" She calls out. "Schofield!"

"Here!" The voice sounds like Blake.

She rubs her eyes, wiping off any dust that dared invade her eyesight. "Blake, I can't see you."

"Where's Sco?" Blake calls out.

"I can't see you, much less Schofield." She grunts in anger and frustration as she wipes her eyes once again. As she moves forward, her feet catch onto something, throwing her onto the ground. "Is that you, Blake?"

"Yeah, it's me." His arm wraps around hers, pulling her off the ground. Blake grabs his torch off of the ground and begins looking around the room. No sign of Schofield. "Sco?!" He calls out. Looking around the room, he notices a foot sticking out of the rubble. It's him. "Sco!" He shouts as he darts for the rubble. Mags turns to see him frantically pulling the rocks out and joins him. With another grunt of annoyance, she throws her bag off of her shoulder to help her throw the rocks better.

When Schofield's face comes into their vision, Blake grabs him by his pack straps and pulls him out of the rubble. They're both quick to wipe away the dust and chalk that covers his face. "Lean him forward." Mags tells Blake. When he leans the man forward, she begins hitting on his back. After a few hits, Schofield begins coughing up dirt and dust. He gags, almost throwing up. "We need to get him up. This bunker isn't going to last forever."

"Sco, I need you to stand!" Blake tells his friend. "Stand up, Sco! Come on!" He slings Schofield's arm around his shoulder, as does Mags. They both lift him out of the debris and begin carrying him towards the door he had previously pointed out. "Keep hold of us, okay?" Blake instructs Schofield, his voice shaky.

As they make their way through the tunnel, Schofield coughs violently. "I can't see." He repeats over and over.

"When we get out, I'll clean your eyes out." Mags reassures him. Letting out a gasp, she realizes that her pack is still inside the room. "Shit!" She curses.

"What?" Blake asks.

"My pack, it's still in that room." Her eyes are wide and fearful. "I have to go back."

"What?!" His eyebrows furrow in fury. "You can't go back! That's suicide!"

"It's suicide if I leave it." She gently pulls Schofield's arm off of her shoulders and takes off back through the tunnel. Blake's shouts fall to the background as she runs down the tunnel. Tears brim her eyes. This might be her death. She supposed it was better to run headfirst into her death if she were going to die. Whether she got the pack or not, Schofield and Blake would be fucked if they didn't have those supplies.

Mags enters the room. Her eyes search frantically for the pack. She spots it right in front of the rubble. The ground shakes violently, throwing her to the ground. With a grunt, she reaches out, grabbing a strap of the pack and dragging it towards herself. Pushing herself off the ground, she slings the pack over her shoulder and begins to run back out. Behind her, the entire room collapses on itself. Not a moment too soon, she thinks to herself as she runs through the tunnel back to the soldiers.

Her feet skid to a stop when she sees Blake on the other side of a crack of a mineshaft. Schofield remains on her side, yelling at Blake. "Winters, help me!" Blake calls for help, referencing to the currently blind solider in front of him. Mags approaches Schofield's right side. Her hand slides into his. "Do you trust me, Will?" She asks. He uses his left hand in an attempt to wipe away the dust in his eyes. It was a fruitless attempt. "Will, do you trust me or not?" The man slowly nods. "I'm going to jump and then I'll pull you over, okay?" He nods once again.

Mags takes a deep breath before leaping over the crevice to the dark abyss below them. Her feet slam onto the ground with a thud. "Okay, it's an easy jump. Probably not even four feet. Reach your hand out." The man reaches his left arm out. Her hand intertwines with his. "Jump, now!" Schofield is quick to jump. He stumbles when his feet make contact with the ground. His hands cling to Blake and Mags.

The two carry Schofield through the tunnel. The sound of collapsing tunnel fills their ears from behind. A fork in the tunnel in front of them stops them. Blake glances into both. To his right, he spots a haze of blue - the sky. "To the right! I see daylight." The three make their way through the right tunnel, to their only chance of survival. As they reach the end of the tunnel, the three scramble up out of the bunkers.

Blake lets go of Schofield as he scans the area for any enemies. Mags helps Schofield take a seat on the ground before beginning to dig through her pack. "I have to flush your eyes, okay?"

"Not more whiskey?" Schofield asks, his tone near pitiful.

A small smile grows on her lips. "No, just water." She pulls her canteen of water out of her pack. "You seem to be the one drawing the short straw lately." Mags jokes as she untucks her button-up from her trousers and begins ripping a piece of fabric off. "Are you always this much trouble, medically?"

"Only when I have an idiot for a partner." He responds. Nothing in his tone seems to be joking. Mags glances back towards Blake, hoping he hadn't heard the comment. He hadn't. "There's so much dust in my eyes."

"I know, darling." Her tone is almost endearing. It's sweet and tender and nothing like he had heard from her. Was she like this with all of the other men she'd seen in her time as a nurse in the Great War? She dabs the fabric in the water and begins gently rubbing away the dust on his face. "This is the easy part, just to warn you." Her chuckle is almost harmonious. After the ringing in their ears had dulled, it was nice to hear something of happiness.

When she finishes cleaning off his face, she grabs the canteen. "Okay, I need to pry your eyes open and clean them out." He lets out a soft sigh. "Don't be so dramatic, Schofield. Compared to that hand, I'm sure this might be the easiest thing we do in the next day or so." Mags gently uses her left index finger and thumb to pry his left eyelids open. She quickly counts down from three and begins pouring a soft and small stream of water into his eye. After a second, she closes the eyelids and pries them back open in a blinking motion. After another second or two of pouring the water in his eye and blinking, she pulls back. "How's that?"

"Much better." His smile is crooked and somewhat forced, but it's a smile nevertheless.

"Now for the right eye." Mags repeats the process with his other eye until she runs out of water in her canteen. "All good?"

"All good." He mumbles, rubbing his eyes and face. Letting out a groan, he grabs his own canteen and begins downing the water.

"I wish I'd shot that rat now." Blake mumbles, glancing around the empty area.

"And I wish you'd picked some other bloody idiot." Schofield snaps.

"What?"

"Why in God's name did you have to pick me?" Mags rolls her eyes as she places everything in her pack. Glancing up, she notices him pulling a tobacco tin out of his jacket pocket and notices that it's empty. His hands are shaking more than she'd ever seen a man shake. She pulls her own cigarette box out of her jacket pocket and sticks one of the pieces in between her lips. No time like the present, she thought to herself.

"I didn't know what I was picking you for." Blake defends himself.

"No, you didn't." Schofield rolls his eyes as he places the tin back in his pocket. "You never know. That's your problem."

Blake takes a step back from his friend. He's clearly hurt by the comment. "Alright then, go back. Nothing's stopping you." He shrugs his shoulders. His eyes glance over to Mags, who simply observes the argument. "You can go all the bloody way home if you want."

"Don't." Schofield practically warns. His eyes move to his left side to Mags' extended arm. In her fingers was a cigarette. For a moment, he contemplates taking the stick, but he shakes his head. "Trying to quit."

"You're a better man than I." Mags chuckles as she places the cigarette back in her box. Striking a match, she lights her cigarette, inhaling the sweet taste. With this single motion, all of her stress is alleviated.

"Look," Blake starts, grabbing Schofield's attention again, "I didn't know what I was choosing you for. I thought they were going to send us back up the line, or for food, or something. I thought it was going to be something easy, alright? I never thought it would be this." There's a tense silence in the group. Blake lets out a sigh as he pulls out the flare gun. "So, do you want to go back?"

Schofield looks up at his friend. His harsh glare has softened to a tired glaze. "Just fire the fucking flare." He mumbles, rubbing his face. His eyes turn to observe the nurse. She looks calm, without a care in the world. As she takes another drag of her cigarette, he finds himself envious. He missed the days when he would just sit in the living room, packing a pipe of tobacco, and reading the newspaper while listening to the radio. He could imagine her swaying to the music on the radio, taking deep and slow drags from her cigarette - the smoke dissipating in the air as she hummed along to whatever song was playing.

When he came back to his senses, he noticed her holding out the already lit cigarette. "Are you sure you don't want a puff? You look mighty jealous of me." Her gaze is playful and her smile is full. Even after his argument with Blake and the hell he had just been through, he couldn't stop the smile that grew on his lips as he took the cigarette from her hand and took a long and slow drag. He had missed it, smoking. Blowing the smoke out, he handed the stick back to the nurse. She snubbed it against the ground beneath her. "Don't be too harsh on him, yeah? He's naive, but he's got the spirit." Her tone was hushed and her eyes were on Blake.

Schofield nodded in agreement. She was smart, he had to admit. She was smarter than anyone he had met in this godforsaken war. Maybe he had found a friend in Margaret Winters. After all, she did save his life in the tunnel. He trusted her, and he knew it. Letting out a sigh, he rubbed his face again. Could this day get any worse?