Before You Start A War

Chapter Twenty-Six

Later that night, Liam is roused by the sound of someone shuffling outside the tent. Sometimes, men will wake up in the night and are too lazy to walk to the woods, so they'll piss next to their tent and go back to sleep. Tonight, however, he doesn't hear the subtle sound of unzipping pants, a loosened belt buckle, or the quiet splashing of dirt turning to pissy mud. He keeps his eyes closed when he hears the back tent flaps open and a dim light trailing inside.

He hopes Niall and Louis are still asleep across the room, and it's just a half-asleep soldier trying to find a shortcut. He knows that's not the case, however, when he hears the quiet scrape of clean metal on metal. The sound of a saber being removed from its holster.

He jumps in action immediately, pulling the intruder back from where he hovers over Niall's cot, his saber barely raised into the air. The man stumbles as Liam wrestles the saber from his hands, kneeing him in the groin and bringing him to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Liam asks, his blurry vision clearing enough for him to recognize Sergeant Collins. His knee presses harder into his stomach as his hands hold Collins's above his head, trapping him. The sergeant doesn't respond. Liam brings Collins's hands together and forces them to the ground under one palm, bringing his other arm down and forcing his elbow in the struggling man's throat. "Answer me!"

Hardly able to breathe, Collins chokes, "Styles doesn't deserve to be corporal! I do! This bitch has him trained like a dog!" Collins can't motion to Niall, but Liam knows who he's referring to.

"And what? You were planning to kill Horan to take his place?"

"Take away the owner, all you have is a vulnerable stray! Styles isn't strong enough to be a leader!"

"And you think you are?!"

"I'd do anything to be--" Liam pressed down harder, cutting his words off.

"Even murder? Even treason?"

Collins's voice is even more hoarse when he's able to speak again, "Harry has killed everyone since Horan was brought here! He was more worried about that fucking pansy than any of his real allies! Harry killed the corporal and his assistants, I know he did, and I know you're covering for him! I'm not committing treason for killing Horan, he's not even a fucking--"

"He's more of a soldier than you've ever been!" Liam predicts his next words, yelling. Louis rouses at the commotion, sitting up his cot for a moment before jumping up.

"Liam?!" He yells, running over to help Liam hold the struggling man down.

Liam pushes him away, "Get Harry!" He yells, and Louis hesitates. "Louis, go get Harry! Now!"

Louis falls back on his bum, his feet kicking up the dirt as he tries to get moving. Liam is still struggling with Collins, and Louis turns his head and runs before he can see either of their next moves. Though Liam is skilled and seemingly stronger than the other man, Collins was armed and more of a direct threat.

He runs toward the tents, tripping over stakes in the ground and dirt piles. His foot catches on a wooden stake, pulling it clean out of the dirt, resulting in the tent to topple on the people inside. Louis can hear the men shuffling, but he isn't concerned with them.

"Harry?" Louis calls, desperately. He doesn't know where to look, or even what tent Harry would be in.

One of the soldiers shuffles out of his tent, rifle already raised. Louis can tell it hasn't been loaded and it only being used as a scare tactic. "Who're you?"

Louis doesn't respond, throwing open a few tent flaps as he runs through the rows of cloth, bedding, and sleeping men. Most of them are looking at him, with a few of the men in the last tents coming out before Louis could reach them.

"Where's Harry?" Louis calls out again, hoping someone knows.

"Who are you?!" The same man as before calls out, his rifle still unloaded. As more men begin preparing for a fight, Louis assumes Harry isn't in the tents and rushes back to the main camp.

As Louis looks over the tents, his eyes fall on a dim light shining from inside the only building on the premises. He stalks up to the door of the cabin, knocking forcefully twice before letting himself in.

Harry is already up when Louis enters. He wasn't able to sleep because he was too worried about Niall; he almost returned to the tent three times throughout the night, but didn't want to cause a ruckus when people were trying to sleep. Now, that doesn't matter.

"Harry!" Louis yells, grabbing his arm as Harry's pulling on his weapons.

"What's happening?" Harry isn't able to say anymore as Louis drags him out of the cabin, though he didn't try to fight him.

He looks around the camp. Nearly all the soldiers have collected together, similar to how they were earlier when Harry was deemed corporal of the company.

"Styles, who is that man?" He hears, among other questions and cries. Louis is moving too fast for Harry to even take in their faces. He can't even figure out what the soldiers are feeling; confusion, anger, betrayal? He knows at least one of them must've recognized Louis, despite changing his coat.

A gunshot goes off. Harry's ears ring and he nearly stops himself to make sure no one in the company is hurt, but Louis is having none of it. His grip on Harry's wrist is tight.

After the initial shock, Harry realizes the sound came from the medical tent. He rushes past Louis, shaking off his hand, and enters the tent expecting the worst.

What he actually sees isn't pretty, but better than he was expecting.

The first thing he sees is Niall, who is trying to sit up in his cot after being roused by the commotion. Harry wants to go help him and ease his pain, but his eyes stick to the red, bloody mess of Collins's body in the middle of the room, with Liam hovering over him with a rifle pointed straight at the ground hanging from his fingers.

Harry steps forward as Louis races into the room, forcing the tent flaps shut behind him.

"Shit." Harry doesn't even know who says it. It might've been him. "We have to go now."

Liam is moving faster than his brain can keep up with. He's throwing medical supplies into a bag and forcing it closed, hurling it over his shoulder. He grabs a set of trashed bedding from the box where all the old uniforms were, rolling one over to Louis, who seemingly understands what's going on. Harry wishes his mind could keep up.

"Harry!"

He jumps into action. His feet carry him over to Niall's cot, who is unable to stand on his own. He reaches down and picks him up, wishing he could ignore Niall's groan of pain. He turns back to Liam and Louis who have collected all that they could. They're hovering near the back of the tent.

"This way. Let's go." Liam says, opening the back flap with his leg since his arms are full.

Harry's ears are still buzzing. He can hear the men outside creeping closer. He can hear Niall's labored breathing. He can hear his own heartbeat.

"C'mon, Harry."

Harry moves. His feet scrape into the dirt, creating a trail until he musters enough strength to actually lift his feet.

As he steps outside into the night, he realizes how dark the woods are. Up ahead, there's nothing. No one. No sign of life anywhere. But they have to go. He knows they do.

He doesn't know where they'll end up, but he knows they can't ever show their faces around this company again.

The back tent flaps close behind them right as the front ones are pushed open by the curious soldiers. There's a cry, and arguing, and a loud scream for attention, but Liam and Louis are already twenty yards away. Harry's only ten. He can hear as they debate over what happened, and who did it. He can hear their anger. He knows they're no longer confused.

Another twenty yards.

The woods are too dark. When the men finally put two and two together, they open the back of the tent as wide as possible to be able to see.

There's no one there.