Chapter 20
“SERGEANT?” JUN CALLED back over her shoulder without taking her eyes off the zombie staggering around the corner. If they were still operating in stealth mode, trying to avoid calling attention to themselves, then opening fire with a Thompson M1A1 in an enclosed space was bound to put an end to that plan.
It took the sergeant a split second to understand that she was waiting for permission to open fire, as he paused a moment before hastily shouting back, “Shoot it already, dammit!”
Jun placed a round from her submachine gun squarely in the head of the shambler, dropping it in its tracks. But before it had even hit the floor more of the Dead came rounding the corner behind it, with still more emerging from several of the other corridors that met at the intersection.
“Put the bastards down!” Sergeant Josiah called out, stepping away from the still-locked door and raising his 12-gauge shotgun, firing a round at the nearest of the Dead and working the pump to chamber another round. “They know we’re here now, so make as much noise as you like!”
Within the span of heartbeats, the hallways echoed with the sound of the squad’s gunfire and the inhuman shrieks of the oncoming Dead. There were already nearly a half-dozen fallen corpses of the undead rotting on the ground at their feet by the time that Sibyl unslung her Lee Enfield Mk III from her shoulder and took aim at one of the zombies staggering into view around the corner. Curtis and Werner had both bagged one each, and Jun was already taking aim on her third target.
One of the faster moving zombies emerged from the pack, charging forward towards Jun, shrieking as it reached out grasping hands towards her. Jun, who had just fired off a round at one of the slower moving shamblers, stumbled back as the quick-moving Dead raced towards her, and she struggled to draw a bead on its head. She squeezed off a short burst from her Thompson that caught the Dead high on its right side, carrying away a big chuck of rotting flesh and bone splinters from its shoulder but doing little to slow its forward momentum. A fleeting bout of panic flashed through Jun’s mind, but she bore down and refused to give into it. As the Dead closed the gap between them, Jun changed tactics, quickly side-stepping as the Dead lunged towards her and then rearing back and bashing it in the side of its head with the stock of her submachine-gun. The force of the impact knocked the zombie off balance, and its bony arms pinwheeled as it struggled to keep its feet on the ground while trying to regain its equilibrium. Not that Jun was about to give it the opportunity. With a deft motion she spun the Thompson back around, shoved its barrel almost point blank against the back of the zombie’s skull, and squeezed the trigger.
Rotted grey matter, black blood, and ropey viscera sprayed on the floor of the corridor as the front of the Dead’s face exploded in a shower of bone fragments and gore, and the nearly-decapitated body dropped motionless to the floor at Jun’s feet.
But Jun didn’t even pause for a moment to be relieved that she’d so narrowly avoided being slashed by one of the zombies, not when still more were following close in its wake. Instead she spun around and fired off another short burst from the Thompson at the next of the Dead in range. When it dropped motionless to the floor as well, there was a moment’s pause as the squad stood poised and ready to fire on the next zombie to come into view.
And then they waited another moment, that seemed to stretch out without end.
“I think maybe that’s—” Curtis began, but Jun cut him off with a quick motioned.
“Footsteps approaching,” Jun said simply, sweeping the barrel of her Thompson back and forth from one branch of the intersection to another to another as she tried to work out from which direction the echoing footsteps she could hear were coming.
Suddenly, a lone zombie shambled into view from the middle corridor before them, mouth working soundlessly, bony hands out and grasping.
The zombie all but exploded in the hail of gunfire as all five members of the squad opened fire on it in the same instant. Shotgun blast, submachine gun fire, and rifle rounds tore into it, shredding the Dead where it stood.
The echoes of the barrage were still reverberating through the corridor as the destroyed remains of the last zombie collapsed in a heap on the floor along with the decaying remains of the Dead who had fallen before it.
After a long pause, Curtis spoke open, continuing where he had left off earlier. “So maybe that was the last of them?”
Jun strained her ears to listen for the sound of other footsteps approaching. She could just make out the faint noise of movement somewhere far off. It was definitely on the same level that the squad currently occupied, and sounded as if it might be getting louder, but was still faint enough that it was clear that there would be some time before whomever it was—whether living sentry or security patrol, or more undead lackeys—arrived at their current position. And when she said as much to the sergeant, he quickly agreed with her.
“There’s not much left to be gained in subtlety, I don’t expect. Whoever is running the show knows we’re here now, so we don’t have any time to lose,” Josiah said, eyes narrowed and jaw set. He nodded in Sibyl’s direction and pointed at the locked door beneath the junction box where the surveillance camera feeds converged. “Let’s get this damned door down and have ourselves a little chat with whoever we find on the other side, what do you say?”
Sibyl just nodded in return, slung her rifle once more over her shoulder, and pulled the canvas bundle with her picks out of her pocket one last time. The squad once again took up position around the door, though this time the sergeant and Curtis stood close by Sibyl’s flank with their weapons aimed at the door, ready to contend with anyone who might rush out when the door finally opened, while Jun and Werner took up defensive positions a few paces out, training their eyes and attention on the branching corridors, ready for the sudden arrival of any more of the Dead or of their living masters.
The voice that had droned on and on over the loudspeakers since they entered the facility appeared to have fallen silent, and Jun wondered whether Standartenführer Ziegler’s lengthy speech had been interrupted by news of the squad’s presence in the fortress. She couldn’t say for certain, since the sound of the shrieking zombies and the deafening echoes of the squad’s barrage of gunfire would have drowned out the muffled sounds of his voice during the recent encounter, but she was fairly certain that she could still hear his voice shortly before the first of the Dead rounded the corner and attacked them, and by the time the squad stood straining to hear the sound of any more approaching footsteps after the last the oncoming zombies had fallen, the voice over the public address system had fallen silent. Was he on the other side of the reinforced door that Sibyl was even know trying to break into, listening to their attempts to gain entry from the other side?
But just as it appeared that Sibyl was about to finish the work of opening the door, the sound of the Waffen-SS colonel could again be heard buzzing over the loudspeakers up and down the corridors, addressing the faithful Nazi troopers in the fortress, wherever they might be. Again Jun could pick out the odd German word or phrase here and there, about “pride” and “purity” and the “flower of German youth” and so on.
Werner muttered something that Jun couldn’t quite make out under his breath, and when she turned to look over in his direction she could see a puzzled expression on his face. She was about to ask him to translate when the expression on his face was immediately replaced by one of wary concentration, as he turned and raised the barrel of his MP40 and aimed it at one of the hallways branching away from the intersection a short distance away from their position.
“Someone is coming,” the German soldier said simply, finger resting on the trigger guard, eyes trained on the gloom beyond the bend.
Jun turned her attention that way as well, and after listening for a moment she could hear the sound of someone approaching as well. They were still a ways off, but getting closer by the second.
“Any time now would be good, lady,” Sergeant Josiah said to Sibyl, a
n urgent undertone to his words.
“I’m working, I’m working!” Sibyl answered as best she could with one of her lock picks clamped between her front teeth. She was evidently having a little difficulty finding just the right length and bend of pick to maneuver the tumblers in the lock into place.
The sounds of approaching movement down from the far hallway were growing louder by the moment, as the voice of Standartenführer Ziegler droned on and on over the buzzing loudspeakers. The air around Jun felt stifling and close, with the musty scent of decay heavy in her nostrils. She found herself longing for the cold clarity of the fresh air they’d left behind when entering the fortress, despite the biting chill of the night winds. Would she live long enough to find the sting of the alpine wind against her cheek again, or would her journey end here, deep within this mountainside in this place of hidden menace?
Jun was shaken from her reverie by the sound of the final tumbler clicking into place and the lock in the reinforced door popping open.
“Got it!” Sibyl said in triumph as she plucked the lock pick from between her teeth and shoved it back in the canvas bundle with the others. She quickly climbed to her feet and stepped aside as Sergeant Josiah moved into position directly in front of the door, reaching out and taking hold of the handle.
The sounds of approaching footsteps were growing louder, and Jun was sure that the next wave of attackers would be on them at any moment.
“Eyes up,” Josiah said, and reached down to take hold of the door’s handle with his left hand, his Colt M1911 semiautomatic pistol gripped tightly in his right. The hinges were on their side, meaning that the door would need to be pulled open rather than bursting through, and either way they would be exposing themselves to gunfire from anyone standing ready on the other side the second the door was opened. The sergeant had clearly taken all of this into account, especially considering the fact that he would be putting himself in the line of fire before asking anyone else in the squad to do so. “Keep low, move fast, try to take them alive.”
The door slammed open as the sergeant yanked on the handle, and Werner immediately dove through, his MP40 held in a two-handed grip before him and ready to fire. Josiah was next through the door, crouching low and diving to the left, while Curtis and Sibyl moved quickly to the right. Jun was the last through, still keeping one eye on the intersection of corridors behind them and half of her attention on the footsteps that were growing ever closer.
The room beyond the door was dimly lit, illuminated almost exclusively by the faint blue glow of a bank of screens mounted on the right hand wall. It was a fairly small room, the air still and calm with the faint ozone scent of electrical systems humming away. With the door open, Jun could now clearly hear the voice of Standartenführer Ziegler reciting his speech in German, and as she moved into the room she saw that he was sitting in a swivel chair on the far side of the room with his back to the door, speaking into a large microphone connected to a bank of electrical controls in front of him. And despite the fact that the squad had just burst into his formerly secured space, the Waffen-SS colonel did not seem to take any notice of their arrival, continuing his speech without pause.
The sound of another wave of approaching Dead could now be clearly heard approaching from just the other side of the door.
“Sir?” Jun called over, as the sergeant and Werner slowly approached Standartenführer Ziegler from behind, their weapons held at the ready. “We’ve got incoming hostiles.”
“Then get that door shut and locked,” Josiah called back without taking his eyes off the SS colonel, who had yet to as much as turn back and look in their direction. The sergeant pointed the barrel of his Colt at the back of Ziegler’s head, at almost pointblank range. “Enough with the speechifying, you Nazi bastard, we’ve got some questions for you.”
Werner stepped in and put a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder. “Do not bother, Herr Sergeant.”
Josiah glanced over at him with a confused expression. In response, Werner lowered his weapon, then reached out and took hold of the back of Ziegler’s chair, and with a short shove spun it around so that the colonel was facing them.
The speech continued unabated, while the corpse of Standartenführer Ziegler sat silently, mouth hanging open, sightless eyes looking out over eternity in a sunken-cheeked face. It was clear that the colonel had been dead for a long, long time.
Chapter 21
JUN’S FIRST REACTION was that the colonel must have turned zombie himself, and swung her Thompson up and prepared to shoot. But then she saw the Luger P08 on the ground at the dead man’s feet and the two bullet holes through his skull, the entry wound on his right temple and the larger exit hole on his left. Standartenführer Ziegler had died at his own hand, and with a headshot that eliminated the possibility that he would return as one of the undead.
But why? Why take his own life, alone and locked in this small room, if he were in command of an army of SS officers and Hitler Youth?
“Is this the guy you were talking about?” Curtis asked Werner, his carbine propped casually on his shoulder.
Werner had leaned in close and was studying the dead man’s features, and nodded in response. “Yes, this is Ziegler.”
“But I thought you said that you recognized him talking over the P.A.,” Curtis persisted, a confused expression on his face as he gestured toward the ceiling, and the speakers from which the voice was still droning on, “and you’ll excuse me saying, but I don’t figure this joker has been in a talking mood for a long while.”
“I may have an answer to that.” Sibyl had stepped closer to the wall of switches and controls not far from the swivel chair where the dead man’s body was sitting. She indicated two platters of a reel-to-reel wire recorder that were rotating at a glacial pace, and then reached over and flipped the switch beside them. And as the platters gradually slowed to a halt, the voice over the loudspeakers grew slower and deeper until it fell silent altogether as the platters finally stopped moving entirely. “The old boy was speaking from beyond the grave, as it were.”
“I suspected it was a recording when he began reciting the same speech from the beginning, word for word,” Werner said, which explained the odd expression that Jun had seen on his face after the voice had begun speaking again after a short pause.
Sergeant Josiah walked over to take a closer look at the body of Standartenführer Ziegler, while Werner’s attentions turned to a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of the swivel chair where they had found the body sitting.
“So he locks himself in here,” Josiah said, “records a stirring speech about the future of the Third Reich, and then tops himself with a bullet through the brain pan. Does that about size things up? What kind of plan is that?”
Werner picked up the top sheets from the stack, and from where Jun was standing she could see that they were covered in neat rows of handwritten notes. A log of some kind, perhaps?
“Ah,” Werner said as he read from the pages, his eyebrows raising fractionally as he did. He finished the top page, then flipped to the next, his gaze quickly scanning row after row of text. His expression darkened the longer he read, eyes narrowing as his brow furrowed in anger. Then he swore under his breath in German, scowling.
“Something you’d care to share with the rest of the class, Werner?” Josiah asked, glancing over in his direction. “Shed any light on our little predicament here, does it?”
“Some, perhaps,” Werner answered through gritted teeth. “This is the final log of Standartenführer Ziegler, who was indeed in command of an entire division sent up here to wait out the fall of Berlin and then continue to wage war against the Reich’s enemies as long as circumstances required. The rumors of the Alpine Redoubt were true, it appears, as was the account we were given by the villagers… up to a point, at least.”
“What point would that be?” the sergeant asked, arching an eyebrow in a quizzical expression.
“Ziegler had enough men and arms to carry out large scale a
ssaults on multiple targets for years, and enough food and supplies to house all of them here indefinitely. But that all changed after Plan Z was enacted.”
“So he was able to control the Dead, after all?” Jun asked, breathless.
Werner shook his head before answering.
“Quite the contrary, actually,” he explained. “Ziegler’s account is confused, and the details are difficult to pick apart, but it is clear that some number of the Dead got into the fortress in those early days after Plan Z, and tore their way through the men stationed here. In short order, the facility was overrun with the Dead. Though he was a high-ranking officer in the S.S., Ziegler was not in the inner circle of the occult conspiracy, and was ignorant about just how difficult the Dead would be to control. With the aid of his top officers was able to force a number of the Dead out of the facility and out onto the mountainside, and sealed the hangar doors shut behind them…”
“Could be those were the Dead who came down the mountain and attacked our villager friends?” Josiah put in. “Assuming it took them wandering around for a few months to find the place?”
“It would track,” Werner answered. “But Ziegler had underestimated the number of Dead that still remained to be dealt with inside the facility. He and his officers successfully managed to clear the top two levels of the fortress, but when they reached this floor they were overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the SS troops and Hitler Youth who had joined the ranks of the Dead. In the end, Ziegler was the only one who managed to reach this control center in one piece, and he barricaded himself within. It seems that his initial plan was to remain here in safety while his surviving troops contended with the infestation of the Dead, and he recorded a stirring speech exhorting them to victory to cheer them along. But it quickly became apparent that all hope was lost.”
Fortress of the Dead Page 16
