The sky was black and even the shimmering night stars could not break through the dark and heavy clouds. The rain was hard and constant, ringing out a tinny rhythm of the helmets of the two young soldiers. Archie was glad of the long socks riding high up his breaches from his heavy mud splattered boots. The muddy slushy water in the bottom of the trench lapped at his ankles. He looked at Tom in his tan coloured kilt, splatters of black mud running over his pink and shivering legs.
"God I'm glad I'm an Englishman," said Archie in a thick London accent.
"You won't be so glad when I beat you across the head with your rifle" replied Tom. Archie liked the sound of Tom's singsong accent; it reminded him of his Gran.
"Looks like were in for another quiet night, there's been little action for a week now," said Archie.
"No but when it comes" Tom cocked his rifle as he spoke "We'll be ready for em".
Archie gave a limp cheer, "hold this a sec will ya" he said passing his gun to Tom to hold "I'm dying for a pee"
Archie waddled through the swampy sludge of the trench floor over to a corner turn. He let out a huge sigh of relief as the steam from his warm urine rose around him.
Tom turned when he thought he saw something flash past the edge of his vision. Suddenly a high pitched squeal pierced Tom's hearing, he looked franticly around for the source of the noise. His eyes squinting as he tried to cover his ears with his hands while still keeping a grip of both the guns. Finally he located the source of the noise and a cold shiver ran down his spine. The shrill screaming was coming from Archie, his body convulsing and blood spraying from his mouth amidst choking coughs.
Tom ran to his friend and tried to grab hold of his violently shaking form.
"Archie" he cried trying vainly even to get his friend to see him.
Archie's eyes were frozen his face was white and his body was suddenly still. Tom stood there holding Archie's body, his mind was a blank with cold hard shock. He felt some movement, a twisting and writhing inside Archie's body pressing out through his back and against Tom's stomach. In panic he let go of the body, Archie and the two guns fell from his hands. His own cocked rifle discharging in to his foot as it fell. Tom didn't even flinch from the pain. He stood there motionless in the lashing rain, streaks of warm red blood across his face. He looked down at Archie lying prone in the mud and filth of the ground, the blood from Tom's own shattered foot flowing in to the brown water and lapping against the body. Then a long slithering slug like form slowly emerged from a cavity in Archie's chest and disappeared in to the water. Tom did not move even when the other soldiers arrived.
Captain Henry Harvey pulled his long coat tightly around himself as he watched the men carry Tom away. Wiping away the rain from his face he moved over to Sargent Bragg who was standing by the body.
"God Sir, look at it. It's bad enough when a bullet or a grenade tears em up, but to do it with his bare hands" said the Sargent shaking his head.
Harvey looked down at the corpse. "Can't say I knew either of them, didn't they get on?"
"No Sir, you couldn't keep em apart, joined at the hip they were. I just can't understand it"
" Well I think it's obvious don't you" said Harvey.
Bragg looked his Captain hoping for some insight.
"Obviously the boy they took away was trying to get himself invalided out of the army by shooting his foot off and this one" he pointed at Archie's body "tried to stop him. Obviously a fight broke out the other one went berserk and tore up his friend."
"Surely not Sir, Tom was rabid to get over the top".
"There you said it yourself, rabid. Desperate for a fight but suddenly overcome with the fear of actually dying himself. Well, the only escape he will get now is from a firing squad".
Clara closed the book and rested it on her lap. The travels of Sir John Manderville, she had read it a dozen times. Ever since her grandfather had given her this old tatty copy of the book she had been obsessed with it's tales of a lone traveller visiting the farthest, most dangerous and peculiar corners of the globe. It was complete fantasy of course; some of the creatures he describes may as well be from another planet.
The lull in the fighting was unusual but it had given her a chance to red the book once more and for a while she had almost felt human again. A few strands of her copper coloured hair fell from under her cap and across her green eyes. Try as she might she was not built to carry off a nurses uniform her long gangly body just did not fit in with it's restrictions. Her personality did not fit the job much either, if one of the Doctors found her sitting here now with her feet resting on the bed of the new patient she would be in a lot of trouble. She coughed and put her feet down.
It had seemed a good idea at first, a chance to travel far from home without her clucking Aunt Bessy. She had done her best to raise Clara after her parents died but she had never been able to get to grips with the meddlesome tomboy.
"Girls should NOT go hiking up their skirts and climbing trees" was a typical refrain.
Clara pursed her lips and started blowing the strands of hair away from her eyes.
"I thought you'd be happy there were no more casualties". said Ned.
Clara looked coolly at Ned. He was one of only two patients left if her ward and both of the miscreants. Ned had been caught out pilfering from the stores when he had got himself so drunk he fell over and broke his leg. He was lucky to get away with a theft charge the Colonel had said he should have been up for desertion.
Clara stood and walked slowly over to Ned on the other side of the ward. She placed her palms calmly on his damaged leg.
"Are you alright Ned" she aid sarcastically "do you think you leg needs a little exercise"
"No" screamed Ned "I'm fine, I'll shut up now"
Clara turned away from him with a satisfied smile on her face. The last time she had exercised his leg the pain hadn't let him stop crying for an hour after. Ned wasn't that bad really it was just the only thing she had in common with him was her hair colour. Just as she contemplated this, the peace was suddenly shattered when the new patient started screaming again.
"It's here" he yelled "It's eating him, it's eating him".
Clara ran over to him but he was silent again. That was it, time to see the Doctor about this.
Clara relished the hard sound of her shoes purposely marching down the hospital corridors. It gave her confidence, made he feel like she meant business. Doctor Smith had given the boy the most cursory of inspection and bandaged up the foot. He was here to help the sick and injured and not the suicidal or murderous he had said. Well she had something to tell him, she did not believe the stories of this boy tearing at the flesh of a friend with his bare hands. She would demand Doctor Smith gave him a proper examination. But as she fast approached his door her steps became slower and more hesitant. Silently she stood outside his office. She took a deep breath and wrapped hard on the door. A confusion of sounds like clattering metal draws slamming came for the other side. What was he up to?
"Yes, who is it?" said the sharp voice.
"It's Nurse Bennett Doctor Smith, can I come in"
"All right, as its only you, but mind not to knock anything over"
When she entered the room Doctor Smith was standing protectively in front of a pair of long red velvet curtains. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back and his face held an expression of barely concealed disdain.
"Well come on in and sit down" he said pointing at a chair smothered in dust.
She gingerly negotiated her hay through the piles of books and peculiar looking equipment pilled up across the floor.
"Doctor Smith I…"she began.
"No formality here Clara, please call me Doctor" he interrupted.
Clara looked at him quizzically. Judging from his face it looked like he thought he had paid her a great honour by saying this.
"Doctor" she began again "it's about the new patient, his episodes are becoming evermore violent".
"And what may I ask is wrong with violent episodes, some of my best episodes have been rather violent"
He looked at Clara as though he was waiting for something.
"I don't know," he said visibly deflated and shaking his head "Edwardian education just did not train the mind to appreciate a good punch-line".
The Doctor moved over to his desk and sat down.
"Listen Clara, we are here to mend to the best of our ability the broken souls who are daily sacrificed to God of war. Yes we are currently in a quiet time now but it is just the calm before another storm. When the hacked about bodies come pouring through that door we wont have time to be distracted by the ravings of a deranged murderer".
When he had stopped talking he took a deep breath and drew his hands across his face as though he could wipe away the horrors that surrounded him.
"I came here for a reason" he continued "To do my best for the innocents".
Clara sat quietly, taking in what she had heard. In the six months they had worked together she had never spoken more than a couple of words to the Doctor. She felt reassured about his motives but that would not deflect her.
"Doctor, I'm sure he is innocent. Just look at him, does he look like someone who could tear apart his best friend with his bare hands"
"Tear apart?" replied the Doctor "I thought they said he shot him"
"No, he seems to have shot himself in the foot but when they found him with the body had been roughly butchered. Ever since he has been screaming about a snake and something eating him"
The Doctor sat bolt upright, Clara thought his expression looked like frightened pigeon.
"No, No, that can't be right a boy of that age and build couldn't have done as much damage as you describe to Archie, he was a strong Lad".
"You knew the victim," exclaimed Clara.
"Yes" mumbled the Doctor "he used to come here to visit his brother, I thought I would take on a trip but he said he had to get the job done first and when his brother died he was even more determined to get face to face with the Germans".
Clara looked hard at the Doctor. His could not have been much older than his 40s but something about him now seemed much older. She almost jumped when he stood and ran to the door.
"Come on he, I've got to see him" he said.
"He's in the ward," said Clara.
"No not him, the body" said the Doctor as he ran out the door.
To be continued.