Breath one produces coughing.

Breath two, confusion.

Breath three renders you unconscious.

Breath four, death.

How many breaths had he taken?

The memory of the officer, eyes bulging and body contorted in pain on the trench floor, surged forward in the soldier’s panicked thoughts as another wave of vomit flooded his throat. His body tensed, and in his mind he screamed, Please, God! I’m not ready to die!

Hands grabbed his shoulders and legs. In his tomb of darkness and silence, he couldn’t see who it was. As he continued to heave and choke, he fought to pull free, but their grip was too strong. In one clean jerk, the hands thrust him onto his side. Vomit spewed from his mouth and burned through his nostrils. He coughed and sputtered until he drew a wheezy breath. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as more memories of the war flashed before his unseeing eyes.

Machine guns firing. Soldiers falling.

Shells exploding. Comrades burning.

Gas clouds descending. Brothers drowning.

Brothers—the young soldier clung to the word like a life raft.

When the retching stopped, the hands eased him onto his back again and wiped his mouth and face clean with a cool cloth. His heartbeat and breathing calmed.

A hand took hold of his arm. The prick of a needle and the heavy pull of morphine followed the gentle touch. As the young soldier slipped back into unconsciousness, images of the battlefield receded like the tide, revealing calmer memories.

Of chalk-white cliffs and clean sea breezes.

Of a brother, a plan, and a promise.

FOURTEEN

THOMAS DIDN’T RECALL the walk back to the tunnels. He got lost twice and had to backtrack to find the path to the support trenches and tunnel entrance. Max sensed the tension in Thomas and stayed at his heels the whole way, his ears and tail low. He didn’t even give chase to the rats scurrying along the trench floor.

His mind numb with shock, Thomas passed other soldiers on the way, but did not stop to ask them about his search. His thoughts were seized with grief for his brother as he surrendered to the truth Johnny had shown him.

As he neared the turn for the tunnel entrance, Thomas could feel the dam he’d constructed to hold back his tears begin to crack. He reached down for Max. “Come here, boy.”

Max jumped into his outstretched arms and licked his face.

Thomas fed him a piece of biscuit from his pocket. Max gulped it down in one bite. “You don’t even chew, do you?” He hiked Max up higher in his arms and stepped through the tunnel entrance. He paused several yards inside to allow his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. Max squirmed in his arms, anxious to get down, but Thomas held him tighter. “Sorry, boy. I can’t have you running ahead and waking the others.” Thomas hurried toward the dugout but stopped at the sound of a voice behind him.

“Sneaking out again?”