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?”
George pushed off from the tunnel wall near the entrance, where he and Charlie had been waiting. He sauntered toward Thomas. “And here I thought I was the rule-breaker of our merry band. I underestimated you, Tommy.” He scratched Max behind his ears. “How much did you pull today?”
“Pull?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. How much did you win?”
“I didn’t win anything.”
“That’s tough luck. It’ll probably take a few goes before you and Max work well together. Does Bagger know you borrowed his ratter?” George looked down at Thomas and smiled. “I thought about sneaking out too, but never considered taking Max.” He glanced back at Charlie. “Mouse, how come I didn’t think of that?”
Charlie shrugged.
Thomas shook his head. “I didn’t take Max anywhere. He followed me.”
George’s smile widened. “I like that. Sneak the dog some scraps, and you don’t have to take him anywhere. He’ll follow you wherever you go. Seriously, why didn’t I think of that?”
“I didn’t … it’s not like that.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t take Max to compete in rat hunts?”
Thomas adjusted his hold on Bagger’s dog. “No … I mean, yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you.”
George lit a cigarette. “You’re getting a little flustered, Tommy. What’re you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Then where have you been for the last four hours?”
“Nowhere.” Thomas turned to escape to the dugout, but George slung an arm over his shoulder and steered him back to the tunnel entrance. Charlie followed a few steps behind.
“Look,” George said. “I just want you to tell me next time you sneak out to the support trenches with Max, so I can come along and place a few bets of my own.”
“I wasn’t in the support trenches.”
“What? You went to the front-line trenches?” He smiled at Thomas. “I’m impressed, Tommy. I thought for sure I’d be the first of us to break one of Bagger’s rules. So, Mr. Rule-Breaker, when are we sneaking out with Bagger’s ratter again?”
Thomas sank against the wall of sandbags until he was seated on the duckboards lining the trench floor. “I’m not sneaking out again.”
Charlie’s shoulders dropped as he gave a relieved sigh and sat down beside Thomas.
“Why not?” George asked, sitting on Thomas’s other side. “We’ll be careful and make sure Bagger doesn’t find out. Mouse’ll be our lookout, won’t you Mouse?”
Charlie swallowed hard.
“As for the others,” George continued, ignoring Charlie’s obvious discomfort with his plan, “they won’t care where we go as long as we show up for our shifts and work hard. The only one we’ll have to worry about is Eton and his big mouth, but I can handle him.”
Thomas shook his head. “I’m not worried about Frederick.”
“Are you afraid of losing your earnings? Because with me at your side, you’re guaranteed to walk away with money.”
Charlie reached over and petted Max. The dog rolled onto his back in Thomas’s lap and offered up his tummy for a rub.
“I wasn’t in the trenches looking to make money,” Thomas said.
“What do you need? Cigarettes?” George pulled a pack from his pocket and offered it to Thomas.
“I don’t smoke.”
“Then what has you sneaking out?”
Thomas was too tired, too shattered, to lie. “Not what. Who.”
“Who?” George shot Charlie an amused look and nudged Thomas in the ribs with his bony elbow. “You got a girl you’re visiting in one of the neighboring villages? You cad, you.”
Thomas pushed him away. “No. I wasn’t visiting anyone. I was looking for someone.”
George smiled. “Aren’t we all?”
“It’s not like that!”
“Calm down, Tommy. I’m just teasing.”
“Who are you looking for?” Charlie asked.
Thomas handed Mouse his photograph. “My brother.”
George’s teasing smile withered into a confused frown.
“Your brother’s here?” Charlie asked, not looking up from the photograph.
“He was.”
Charlie handed the photo to George. “What happened to him?”
“He’s missing.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “You look like him.”
Thomas felt the prickle of tears building in his eyes and tried to steer the conversation away from James. “Do you have any brothers?”
Charlie nodded. “One. Henry. He’s eleven.”
“Does he know you’re out here?”
“I couldn’t leave without letting him know where I was going. He swore he wouldn’t tell, but my father has a way of making you reveal your secrets.” His voice and eyes trailed off to a distant point beyond the trenches, and Thomas thought back on the promise James had made him keep.
George handed Thomas the photograph. “Your necklace. The one with the old medals.” He pointed to James in the photo. “He’s the brother you said you had to return the necklace to—before you called me a lying thief?”
“Yes.” Thomas grimaced. “And sorry about calling you that.”
“Why? It’s accurate. Those two skills kept me alive. I don’t apologize for them, so why should you?” George took a final drag from his shrinking cigarette. “What’s so special about those medals anyway?”
Thomas pulled on the chain until the medals toppled over the collar of his shirt. He held up the Saint Barbara medal. “This one my mum gave me.” He dropped the medal and held up the Saint Joseph one. “This was my brother’s. He gave it to me before—”
His voice choked off. His tears were still too close to the surface. He waited until he’d regained some control before continuing.
“He gave it to me before he left for the war.” He ran his thumb over the medal. “He said it would keep me safe, but he should have taken it with him. He was the one who needed protecting. Not me.” He tucked the medals back under his shirt.
“Let me get this straight.” George stubbed out his cigarette on a damp sandbag. “Your brother left you and your family to fight in the war, then he went missing, and you thought it was a good idea to risk not only your freedom but also your life to join up so when you’re not digging tunnels under a battlefield, you can search the trenches for him?”
Hearing someone else explain his plan made it sound so much more foolish. “Yes,” Thomas admitted.
“I’m all for playing the odds, Tommy, but the odds on this bet are pretty long.”
Thomas’s head dipped forward. “It’s stupid, I know. I didn’t realize how many miles of trenches there were.”
George stared at Thomas as though he were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. “Then why do it?”
Thomas looked up at George. Tears welled in his pale blue eyes. “It’s what brothers do.”