CHAPTER SEVEN.   RUN LIKE HELL

HE STARED IN HORROR AT THE CHOPPED TREES. How could they? He could only imagine how beautiful the trees had looked once upon a time. It nearly broke his heart to look at the broken and cut branches. His fingers took a piece of dead petal in between his thumb and index finger. It practically crumbled against the pressure. His eyes glanced towards the nurse, watching her look at the trees with curiosity. "Jesus." He mumbles to himself. "They chopped them all down."

Blake scratches his arm. It's clear he feels guilty about bringing up his friend's family. "Cherries." He finally speaks, his voice scratchy. Picking a dying blossom off of a branch, he looks at it with a nostalgic fondness. "Lamberts." The three continue making their way past the cut trees. "They might be Dukes, hard to tell when they aren't in fruit."

"What's the difference?" Both Schofield and Mags ask in unison. Her fist collided with his arm. "Jinx, you owe me a drink." She giggled as he rubbed the sore spot on his arm. For such a small girl, she packed a punch, he thought to himself. His chuckle put both Blake and herself at ease, knowing that Schofield was once again loosening up.

"Well," Blake began explaining from in front of the group, "people think there's one type, but there's lots of them - Cuthberts, Queen Annes, Montmorencys. Sweet ones, sour ones-"

"Why on Earth would you know this?" Schofield asked, chuckling with Mags.

"Mum's got an orchard back home. Only a few trees. This time of year, it looks like it's been snowing, blossoms everywhere." A small smile grew on Mags' lips as she imagined Blake's orchard. She couldn't even fathom just how beautiful it must look; how peaceful and serene it must feel to just sit and exist there. "And then in May, we have to pick them. Me and Joe. Takes the whole day." Both the nurse and the soldier could hear the homesickness in Blake's tone.

Glancing around, Schofield looks down at the dead blossom in his hand. "So, these all goners?"

"Oh, no," Blake shook his head, a smile on his lips, "they'll grow again when the stones rot. You'll end up with more trees than before." He slows his pace to hand Mags the fresh blossom in his hand. A soft blush grows on the girl's cheeks as she thanks him.

The group come upon a stone wall with a gate. Schofield and Blake take cover behind opposite sides of the wall; Mags takes cover behind Schofield. Beyond the gate lies the remnants of an abandoned farmhouse. The barn is littered with shell holes and the house itself looks near collapse. Everything is quiet and still. Schofield's hands flex before curling into fists.

"It looks abandoned." Blake breaks the silence.

"Let's hope so." Schofield responds, glancing at the old house.

"We have to make sure." Blake nods towards the building. Both of their gazes turn to the nurse. "You should stay back here."

Mags glances up at Schofield, who nods, agreeing with his friend. "It's best if you stay back here. We'll give you a signal if it's clear."

"And if it's not?" Mags asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Then you'll hear the gunshots and know." Blake answers before Schofield can.

"I think I should go." Mags begins to argue. "What if one of you gets shot or stabbed or something?"

"Then we'll yell out for you." Schofield answers.

Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms over her chest. "Fine, but don't be too long. I don't want to be back here alone."

Both the soldiers' gazes soften at the girl's clear anxiety towards being left alone. "We'll be back before you can say, 'Blake is the best.'" Blake gave a reassuring smile that elicited a soft giggle from Mags.

Schofield led the way towards the house, his rifle ready for anyone that decided to pop out. Blake follows close behind. They slowly move down the hill. "So, what do you think of her?" Blake asks quietly.

Schofield's eyebrows furrow as he looks to his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, c'mon then!" Blake chuckles. "Don't act like you haven't noticed. She's quite the looker, that one."

Schofield rolls his eyes. "Keep your mind focused, Blake." A joking smile begins to grow on his lips. "Besides, she's too old for you."

"Too old?" Blake laughs. "She's, what, maybe two years older than me." The men share a laugh together. "So, what, you thinking about making a move when this is all over?"

Glancing back at his friend and towards the girl peeking out from behind the wall, Schofield shook his head. "She's all yours, mate."

"Nah," Blake shakes his head, "I think she's more into you than she is me." With a chuckle, he glances around at their surroundings. "I mean, just the way she cleaned all that dirt off you after the bunker told me all I needed to know."

"Is that so?" Schofield rolls his eyes.

"Don't act like you didn't like it." Blake laughs, jokingly shoving his friend. "What I'd give to have a pretty nurse tenderly clean dirt off my face." Both friends shared a laugh as a faint blush or embarrassment colored Schofield's face. The two slowly fall to silence as they grow closer to the house.

As they approach the house, Schofield turns to his friend. "I'll take the front, you take the back." He whispers.

The two split up. Blake quickly disappears around the corner of the house as Schofield carefully makes his way closer towards the front door. A dead dog lies in front of the house. His face scrunches up in disgust at the rotting creature. His hands flex before tightening around the rifle as he moves over it. He glances back towards the stone wall to catch a glimpse of the girl carefully watching them from behind the wall.

Schofield quickly leaves her frame of sight as he enters the house. Taking a deep breath, Mags looks back down at the blossom Blake had given her. She twirls it between her fingers, smiling at the prettiness of it. In such short time, the two men had grown on her. She supposed that going through near death experiences would do that to a group.

Setting her pack on the ground, she dug through her pockets. She took a seat on the ground, her back against the stone wall as she began flipping through the photos she held close to her heart. One of her favorites was one of her and Alex as children, making sand castles on a beach. From what she could remember, it was from West Wittering. A soft smile grew on her rosy lips as she flipped to the next photo.

The next one was of her brother and her father. Their stoic expressions somehow comforted her. They always seemed to know how to handle tough situations that would send her crying. She missed her father every day, and she missed her brother every second. Before she could flip to the next photo, a shout from the house grabbed her attention. Peeking out from behind the wall, she could see both Blake and Schofield waving her over. Placing the blossom into her breast pocket, she pushed herself off the ground. She quickly stuffed the photos back into her jacket pocket and slung her pack onto her shoulder before making her way over to the house. "Find anything worth stealing?" She called, flashing a playful and toothy smile to the men.

"Unless you want to steal a burnt doll, I don't think so." Blake responds, earning a slap to the arm from Schofield. He exclaims in shock, furrowing his brow as he looks at his friend.

The nurse stops in her tracks, staring down at the rotting corpse of the dog at her feet. "Suppose he doesn't have anything good on him." Mags mumbles under her breath, too quiet for the soldiers to hear. Her gaze turns from the dog to the men. "You check out the barn yet?"

"No." Schofield responds.

"I'll go take a look." She nods before turning to approach the dilapidated barn. Schofield scoffs as he jogs out of the house to catch up with her. "What?" She asks when he catches up to her.

"You really shouldn't go barging into places you haven't been to."

Rolling her eyes, Mags crosses her arms over her chest. "You really shouldn't be as stuffy as you are. I've met men who've had their leg blown off who can make more jokes than you."

Schofield turns his gaze to the woman. Part of him can't tell if she's joking or not. Her expression tells him that she's being serious. "You really shouldn't be as reckless as you are. Going back for that bag in the bunker was too risky."

"But these supplies saved your eyesight. And they probably saved your hand."

She had a point, he'd admit. "Still." He responded. "It's not worth your life."

It was Mags' turn to look up at him. She liked him, she would admit. He was nice, though a bit thick-headed at times. He reminded her of Alex. Her gaze looked down to see his hand flex before tightening into a fist. Her eyebrows furrowed together. She turned her gaze back towards the barn as they entered it. It was empty, save for a bucket in the middle of it. Schofield inspects the bucket as Mags looks out over the empty field. A lone cow stands in the middle, two or three dead cows lying near it. A pit forms in her stomach at the sight.

"Here's that drink I owe you." Schofield's voice pulls her attention away from the sight and towards the bucket that was filled with milk. Her face scrunches up in disgust. He begins to chuckle, holding out his canteen towards her.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of the alcoholic realm of drinks." Mags gently pushes the canteen back towards him. The man shrugs his shoulders before taking a swig of the milk in his canteen. A shiver of distaste racks her body.

"Map says we get over that ridge and it's a straight shot to Écoust." Blake speaks as he enters the barn.

Schofield nods. "Good." He simply responds before taking another swig of milk.

Mags watches in discomfort as he refills his canteen with more of the milk from the bucket. "You don't even know how old that is." She mumbles, rolling her eyes. Something about milk utterly disgusted her. When it was warm, it was gross. When it was cold, it was tolerable, but still her last choice on the list of beverages. Schofield's chuckle grabs her attention. "And what are you laughing at?"

"You." His voice was matter of fact. A joking smirk grew on his lips as the girl puffs her bottom lip out like a child. "When all you can drink is dirty water and liquor, milk begins to taste like the heavens. Though I suppose you nurses got the clean water, though." He takes another swig from his canteen before closing it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asks, an almost accusatory tone to her voice.

"Nothing," he shrugs his shoulders, "just that you nurses probably got all the accommodations, right?"

"Sco-" Blake started, furrowing his brow at his friend's sudden shift in tone.

Holding her hand up to stop Blake from interfering, she shakes her head. "What's your problem, eh? Blake gave you the opportunity to go back at the bunker and you didn't. If you don't want to be here then maybe you shouldn't."

"You're right, I don't want to be here." Schofield shook his head as well. "I want to be home."

"Well, join the fucking club!" She shouted, stunning both men. "You think you're the only one with a family? My brother is somewhere in this French hellhole, fighting off Germans and, even if I make it out of here, my mother won't let me come home. Blake's got a brother fighting with mine. You're not the only one who's got something to lose." By the end, her voice had grown quiet. Her fists were balled up tight. She refused to look up at the men as a warm blush filled her cheeks. Tense silence filled the air between the three.

"Mags, I'm-" Schofield began to apologize, but stopped when she held her hand out for him to shake.

"Stressful times, right?" He nodded in response as he shook her hand. "We all need to vent a little. Now we don't have to argue for another few hours." His gaze moved up to her face where a playful smile grew on her face - though it didn't quite meet her eyes.

Blake moved outside of the back of the barn. Three planes flew in the distance. One plane took lead from the other two. "Is that our friends again?" He asks as he squints his eyes in an attempt to see them better.

"Looks like it." Schofield nods. "Dogfight." His eyes glance between the nurse and the planes. Mags is occupying herself with rearranging items in her bag as the two soldiers watch the planes.

"Who's winning?" Blake asks.

"Us, I think." Schofield answers. "Two on one."

Mags ignores their conversation. Her mind is far away from this farmhouse in France. It's back in Sussex with her family. Her former family, she supposed. If she thought hard enough, she could still hear her brother and her mother fighting the day that they had to leave for the train station. Tears pricked at her eyes. No, not now, she thought to herself, they'll think you're a baby. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. A loud pop in the distance pushed her to her feet. "What was that?" She asked, worry in her voice.

"They got the German plane." Blake smiled as he pointed out towards the three planes. Plumes of smoke rose from the single plane.

The lone plane begins to sink towards the Earth. Both Blake and Schofield watch closely, taking slow steps towards where the plane disappeared over the hills. Mags' brows furrow as she begins taking steps backwards. "I didn't hear it crash." She called out to the men. Her calls fall on deaf ears as they continue advancing.

The plane quickly reappears over the hill. Schofield's hand grabs Blake's arm as he realizes they are in the direct path of the plane. "Go!" He yells to Blake and Mags. All of them run away from the plane. Both him and Blake run through the barn. It's gaining on them quickly and they won't be able to make it back to the house for shelter. "Down!" He yells at Mags as he and Blake fall to the ground. The nurse ahead of them quickly falls to the ground, covering her head.

The entire plane smashes into the barn. It stops against the solid earth beneath it. Flames from the aircraft begin quickly spreading onto the barn. A man in the pilot's seat screams in fear and agony. Blake is the first one to move, much to Schofield's complaints. They both run into the barn to see the pilot fiercely attempting to pull himself free from the seatbelt. Flames begin to engulf the entire craft.

As Blake unclips the seatbelt, he exclaims in pain as the burning metal presses against the back of his hand. Together, they pull the pilot free and begin dragging him out onto the field towards Mags. She furiously digging through her pack, looking for adequate supplies. She never anticipated burn injuries. Why would she? Likelihood said they wouldn't even be around fire on their overnight trip.

As the soldiers drop the pilot in front of her, his shrill shouts grab all of their attention. German, she thinks, he's speaking German. Should she even help him? He's the enemy. The humane side of her told her yes, that he was a human like her. But the British side of her told her no, that he'd turn on them in a moment's notice. Her eyes darted between the man and Schofield's wide eyes. His gaze offers no guidance. She swallows a lump that had formed in her throat. Fuck.