War Bird

7. So Little of Me

"Nightingale, to your feet!" 

The voice is rough and angry, muffled at first but getting louder. I hunker down more into my bed. I don't want to get up. My head is sore, and I’m beyond knackered. But as I slide back into consciousness, my bed becomes colder and harder. And what is this dusty, damp smell that's all around me? 

"Nightingale, can you stand?" The voice again. Clearer now. It's a man, and he sounds angry. My eyes pop open and the first thing I see are boots. What the hell? Black leather boots, laced up to mid-calf, stood on what looks like a floor made of compacted earth. The floor I am sprawled across. 

"She's awake," a different man murmurs softly.

"What's going on?" My ears feel like they are blocked solid. I waggle my jaw and they pop, painfully. 

"Are you alright miss?" The owner of the black boots commands. I sit up, head spinning.

“What the-” The words burn my throat and I cough so hard I fall forward on to my hands. It’s like my lungs are full of sand or something! I spit, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and then I stand up. My legs wobble like wet spaghetti and I lean back, into a dirt wall that scrapes my back. My heart races with the effort. What the hell has happened to me? Everything aches, muscles I didn’t know could ache are crying out in protest.

I’m in a tunnel and in front of me stand two men. The main thing I notice are the guns they carry. Long, gleaming rifles with wooden handles and blades on the end. Real old, nasty-looking pieces. They aren't pointing them at me but they hold them up as if ready to strike. Why do they have guns? I'm no threat, I mean, I can barely stand. Then I see how young they are. They can't be much older than me, dressed in slim trousers and dark jackets. Odd, bowl-like helmets on their head.

"Where am I?" I look around me. I think we’re underground. There are little lights dotted along the earthy walls, giving off an amber glow. "Where are my friends?" I ask. There are scuff marks on the wall opposite me and one of the two men has a mark on his face as red as his hair. Haha. Obviously Asher and Ed put up a fight. Red-hair scowls. 

"We found you... we thought you’d been attacked," he says, glancing at his mate. “There were two other chaps, looked like they’d hurt you.”

“A fight!” I shake my head. “No, no! They’re my friends!”

"So you just abandoned your station to kick back with your pals?” The other guy says, frowning. He’s pale and blonde, with buttery freckles across his nose. “Miss Ever won't be pleased."

"Miss who?" 

They exchange confused looks. 

"Miss Ever. The Nightingale Unit supervisor," Red-hair says. "One of the Commanders. Your boss?"

"I don't have a boss!" Something is seriously wrong here. It’s like a nightmare. "You've got me confused with someone else. Now, find my friends and tell me how I get back to the Clifton Estate! You can't keep me here!"

"The what estate?" Freckles asks.

"Where I live? In London?"

"Ha! Good one," he says. "Come on. We have to get on with our patrol." He cocks his head in the direction of the tunnel behind him. "Miss Ever will sort this all out."

I really don't have much of a choice and so I follow them as they walk stiffly down the passage. We travel for a good few minutes, every so often passing other tunnels peeling off from the one we are in. I look down each one, hoping that I'll see Ed and Asher. Judging by the mark on Red-hair’s face, one of them got in a good punch so they didn’t go quietly. As we walk, I keep asking where the boys are but these two just ain’t talking anymore. Oh well, if this Miss Ever is in charge, maybe she’ll fix everything and get me out of this place. I'm wondering if this is all just a case of mistaken identity when I hear the sound of voices and activity, lots of people moving around. We make a sharp left and the tunnel opens up.