CHAPTER FIVE
Within an hour or so the darkness of the night had fallen upon the village, and the exhausted squad were now sat around a long wooden table in one of the more sturdy buildings. Snow and damp dominated the interior, due to the roof being half destroyed, but it was warm enough, thanks to a very small log fire burning away in the corner of the room. A tattered old flag with the Star of David highlighted the area, hanging from the back wall.
Yankee and Doodle were gorging on bread and hard boiled eggs, whilst Specks enjoyed some warm soup, the heat from it steaming up his glasses with every spoonful. Billy was eating a whole bushel of apples, snatched from the cart outside, whilst Charlie sipped some tea with the Old Woman, who had not bothered introducing herself properly, nor asking for any of their names. It wasn’t much, but it was still more than the men had seen in months, and they were enjoying it thoroughly. As hungry as they were, Yankee and Doodle were doing their best not to play with their food, and instead had preoccupied themselves with making eyes at a few of the more friendly girls, who were crowding out the room, intrigued by the guests. Meanwhile, the bolder children were still buzzing around Billy, or more specifically his arm, who was shooing them off with great annoyance whilst cramming his mouth with fruit. They were pulling it in every direction, and peering down the seams at Billy’s even more interesting bionic arm, hidden underneath the armour. In a naïve attempt to rid himself of the pests for good, Billy resorted to his only solution, releasing his quick shield, which immediately startled them, making them all jump back a few feet. But this only intrigued them more, leading to ‘Ooo’s’ and ‘Ah’s’ of astonishment, as they tried to push it back inside his armoured sleeve and release it for themselves. Finally he gave in to their endless interest, and slumped in his chair, resting his head in his hands, letting them play all they want.
‘Forgive their silence. Their English is broken at best. They understand few of your words,’ said the Old Woman on behalf of the room.
‘How many of your people are left?’ asked Charlie, watching the proceedings, tentatively.
‘The number changes. People come and go. But those of us that leave never return. As for those of us that stay, the number slowly fades.’ Her voice was filled with sorrow, but delivered with the strength of an ox. ‘Of course, when the war started the majority of the men were taken to the army, whether they wanted to join or not. Others fled to the fields. We are divided, you see,’ she put down her cup of tea and looked at the fire, prodding the logs into place with the bottom of her cane. ‘We rest on the borders of both Germany and Poland. We are all either German, Polish, or both. When the war came… it was troublesome times for all, but it was complicated for us.’ She sipped her tea, wiping the dribble from her chin on her sleeve. ‘As they do, the years passed us by. Soldiers came and went from both sides. But I suppose they saw no great threat from us and left us to our own devices, merely indulging on our resources as quick as they could.’ Yankee and Doodle felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, and immediately slowed their eating, thanking the women hovering around them over and over again for their warm reception. ‘But then the long grey man came, and things changed rapidly. He didn’t even seem to notice us. Literally, like we were nothing more than ants. No, he was so much more interested in what this village has to offer. Or, perhaps more appropriately, what it offered.’
‘And what is that?’ enquired Charlie.
‘Its waters.’ The men looked a little bewildered at the words, Yankee and Doodle looking suspiciously at their filled cups. ‘Surely you must have noticed the flowers growing outside.’
‘Poppies…’ specified Specks.
‘Incapable of growth under normal circumstances, at this time of year. But these aren’t normal circumstances.’ She finished her cup of tea and poured the remaining drops onto her palm, leaning forward and staring deeply at all the men, who gave her their full attention. ‘You see, the water here has very valuable properties. Once upon a time, if you and your men had drunk your share, you would feel revitalised, energised, and at the peak of physical health. Once upon a time the village was covered in a multitude of flowers, trees and fruits, boasting colours you couldn’t even imagine. Once upon a time, this place was a small paradise.’
‘Highly improbable,’ interrupted Specks.
‘Shush. Can’t you see the crazy lady is telling a story?’ snapped Doodle.
‘You said… once?’ pressed Charlie.
‘Indeed. Once. The poppies are the last to remain. Remnants of this village’s gorgeous past. You see… the long grey man found a way to taint its use,’ she continued. ‘Once there was a beautiful well that sat in our village. No one took more than they needed. Everyone respected its purpose. The water was a gift. But when the long grey man discovered its wonders, things changed. And over time he erected that tower outside, drilling a hole deep into the heart of the earth, beyond the depths of the well. There was little we could do. And we thought that was it, we thought he just wanted to source it. But somehow he found a way to abuse its gifts, to corrupt its purity. And then came his mechanical monstrosities.’
‘The Manipulated Men,’ said Charlie.
‘Call them what you will. They are not made by the hands of God.’ The mood went sour, even Yankee and Doodle had stopped eating. ‘Their existence is very simple… and completely unnatural. They return every three days for three days. They feed off the waters beneath, revitalising themselves to dangerous levels. And then they store it in those vessels they have, contaminate it with some unholy poison, and use it against the living.’ She began to wipe her hands clean of the tea. ‘It would seem even the greatest gift of goodness can be used to harvest evil in the wrong hands.’ The squad swallowed the story hard, the atmosphere in the room growing increasingly heavy. ‘In the beginning, when we didn’t know any better, a few of the braver men tried to speak to the machines. But… they died. Only to be reborn as mutations of their former selves. Puppets of evil.’
‘What did you do to them?’ asked Charlie.
‘We disposed of them. As we do any and all that turn.’
‘Pardon me, but why don’t you leave?’ questioned Charlie.
‘Where would we go?’ she asked straight back, forcing a smile on her wrinkled face, looking lovingly at her fellow villagers. ‘We are old and we are young, and so far from anywhere of safety. I have a responsibility to these people, to keep them alive, and to keep them together. No. There is no place for us to go. Besides, as long as we live by our rules, stay alert, hide when they come, we survive.’
‘Ain’t no way to live,’ remarked Yankee.
‘When was the last time you saw Shoe…’ but Charlie stopped himself mid-sentence. ‘When was the last time you saw the long grey man?’
‘Several days ago, now,’ she answered.
‘And which way did he leave?’ His voice sounded eager.
‘Tomorrow, perhaps,’ she brushed him off. ‘For now I am weary, and need to rest. You yourselves must be tired. After you’re done here you should get some sleep. The church is yours to use for the night. We can talk more tomorrow.’
‘But, Miss, if I may. It’s critical that I…’ pushed Charlie, but the Old Woman smacked him on the head once again with her cane, interrupting his flow. He rubbed it, obviously irritated, but ever the gentleman. ‘We thank you for your hospitality, Miss. We really do. But…’
‘It’s no bother. For the next few days at least, you and your men are safe here. And you are more than welcome to stay. Looking at the state of you all, I would suggest it a good idea.’ She struggled to her feet, helped by two of the closer women, who she shooed away as soon as she was up. ‘I’m just glad to get a meal inside you all. Especially the scrawny one with the glasses. Rest up, the lot of you. You’re safe.’
‘Miss. I don’t think you are understanding the gravity of the situation. I really need to get…’
But she raised her hand and silenced the Captain. She turned her head and listened. Old as
she was, she heard it first - there was some sort of commotion coming from outside, and it was getting louder. A worried looking girl entered the building, rushing over to the Old Woman and whispering something in her ear.
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Charlie.
‘The dead… again.’ She cleared her throat and stood as upright as she could. ‘It seems we have a small horde approaching the village from the west.’
‘Me and my men will take care of it. It’s the least we can do,’ said Charlie, the words instigating all but Specks to stand to attention, though he was quickly dragged up by Yankee and Doodle, who were more than eager to get shooting again.
‘We are grateful for the offer, soldier, but we have the situation well in hand,’ she replied, hobbling to the doorway and out into the open air.
Charlie and the squad hurriedly followed, ignoring the Old Woman’s casual words and arming themselves. They ran outside just in time to witness it all. As said, a small horde of the dead were pushing their way into the village. By Specks’ count there were eleven of them, and from this distance it was just possible to make out they were all wearing the remnants of the French uniform, though all were covered in blood and guts. The Old Woman gave a nod of approval - and it began. A cluster of the village women were holding improvised torches - a long stick with a flaming piece of rag at the very top, and with it they were enticing the horde towards them. As they did this a second group came up behind the horde. Silent and quick they moved, rushing towards the dead men in pairs. It was simple, rehearsed well, and executed precision-perfect - one tripped an undead soldier to the ground, before immediately holding it down, with a knee on its chest and gripping the thing’s skull. Whilst the other delivered the kill shot - the sharp end of a pointed stick straight through the centre of its head. Charlie and the boys watched the course of action, speechless, awe-struck.
‘I think I’m in love,’ remarked Doodle, gazing at the fearless women.
‘Get in line,’ replied his brother.
Suddenly Charlie had a realisation, and stepped forward, bellowing at the top of his voice:
‘STOP.’ The women stopped immediately and looked at him with confused eyes. ‘I need that one left alive,’ he said, pointing at the very last of the undead, which was currently laying on the floor, reaching up in hunger at its executioner, who was standing over him, ready to make the kill shot. Everyone, including his own men, waited for Charlie to explain himself. ‘I want my Science Officer to examine this man. See if there is anything… see what we can learn from him.’
All eyes fell on the Old Woman for a decision. She hobbled around the suggested study, who was desperately trying to sink its teeth into its captor, before tottering over to Charlie, muttering under her breath. Finally she spoke:
‘Very well. But you are entirely responsible for it. And when you’re done, you will finish its life with dignity. Yes?’ Charlie nodded in reply. ‘You can use the church. That’s the most equipped place in the village. But try not to disturb the injured.’
‘The injured?’ asked Yankee.
A few minutes later the squad found themselves in a very strange situation indeed - strange even for them. They were heading towards the church, which stood dark and looming above them. The snow sat on its many rooftops, the moon glinting upon its pallor, creating a slight glow around the edges of the building, and making the state of affairs feel like some kind of twisted Christmas nightmare. Yankee and Doodle were carrying the spared undead man on a stretcher between them, whilst Billy held the thing still as best he could, as it growled, and shrieked, trying to reach out for them all and sink its teeth into their flesh. The Old Woman led them away from the villagers, who had all been very vocal about their disgust of Charlie’s suggestion, and into the church. Immediately they were faced with a curtained-off path, which led them through the building and into a free space at the far side of what was apparently the main hall. They moved awkwardly along the way, thankful to place the stretcher and dead man on a metal framed bed. Charlie was eager to get to work, ignoring the chatter and goings-on that were coming from behind the curtains.
‘Hold it down,’ Charlie ordered to the brothers.
‘And just what do you intend to find out from this little experiment, Cap?’ asked Yankee as he clung on to the thing’s ankles, whilst Doodle drew the short straw and held down its shoulders - infinitely closer to the thing’s bite attempts.
‘Damn. This guy must have fallen off the ugly tree,’ the younger brother struggled to joke, unable to look away from the man’s decaying, nauseating face, as its sunken eyes glared at him. ‘Hit every branch on the way down, stopped at a bar for a bottle of ugly juice, and landed straight into a massive steaming pile of…’
But the Old Woman smacked him over the head with the top of her cane, silencing him before he could finish his tease.
‘There’ll be no blasphemy in this church, young soldier,’ she snapped.
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he replied, rather sheepishly.
‘Just try not to look at it,’ sniggered Billy.
‘Good idea.’ Doodle turned his gaze from the thing. ‘Yep, try not to look at the dead guy,’ he whispered to himself, ‘the undead guy wriggling between my fingers.’ But all too quickly his eyes flickered back to the thing, unable to help himself. ‘Billy, I’m looking at it again!’
The Old Woman shambled over to a stone bench and sat down, resting wearily on her cane and watching the examination unfold.
‘Specks, I need you to examine this thing.’ Charlie grabbed the small man and placed him directly beside the undead specimen, snatching his notebook from him and putting it in his pocket. ‘Find something. Find anything that might give us a clue as to what that treacherous fiend might be up to next. And where I might be able to find him.’ Charlie’s request seemed confusing, almost desperate.
With great hesitation, Specks began, as Charlie almost bullied him into his work, his watchful eyes burning into the back of the poor fellow’s head, pushing him further than he cared to go. On several occasions Billy and the brothers turned away, as the sheer grossness of the procedure became too much, too rapidly. Sure enough, the small geek was in way over his head, cutting skin and muscle with shaky hands. Incision after incision he looked to his Captain for release from the tragic chores, but it never came. And no matter how deep he went, the undead man continued to growl and groan, its hungry eyes flickering between each potential meal. Specks pressed himself on, handling veins and organs tainted with the same blue liquid whilst muttering things about expiring and regenerating cells, that made no sense to anyone but himself. Until finally, he was so incredibly distraught, so awfully covered in bloods of red and colours of blue that it was all he could do to fight off tears of distress.
‘It would seem… the blue liquid serves two purposes,’ he began, with choked up words, seeing a look of demand on Charlie’s face. Specks held a hand to his mouth, refraining from vomiting over the floor. ‘Firstly, it incapacitates the victim. Based on the state of the specimen’s organs… which have all shut down… it leads the sufferer to almost absolute death.’ The man was a quivering wreck. Billy took his arm and steadied him. ‘But then… just before the body completely shuts down… it reanimates. But the reanimated being is devoid of its original personality, and more importantly, its prior higher functions.’ The men looked at him in puzzlement. ‘Functions that we have spent thousands of years evolving to have. Like compassion and thought. Instead… all that remains is the animalistic human. It is a bag of muscles and bone. A human with two very basic functions. Feed and survive.’
‘Why do they only go down with a shot to the brain?’ asked Charlie.
‘I don’t know, sir.’
Out of the blue Charlie did something no one would have expected. He pulled a small knife from his belt and thrust it into the undead man’s wrist, severing its hand clean from its body. Almost instantaneously it began scurrying around the floor, like a giant spider running o
n adrenalin. Within a moment it pounced on Specks’ leg, who screamed like a girl, as it climbed its way up the poor geek.
‘Eww. That’s nasty,’ said the brothers in unison.
‘Get it off. Get it off. Get it off,’ cried Specks.
Billy stepped in, grabbing the dead hand just before it got its fingers round Specks’ neck. The hand went rigid, and then shrivelled up, apparently dead.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’ demanded Yankee.
‘The man needed motivation,’ replied Charlie, cold-blooded. ‘Specks. What does that tell you?’
‘Erm… I can only hazard a guess. But…’ He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. ‘The reanimated body must require only two things. The blue liquid… and connection with a functioning brain,’ his reply was stuttered and exhausted. ‘Hence the hand had momentary lifespan once separate from the body. The blue liquid sustained it temporarily.’
‘I need to know more,’ said Charlie, abruptly.
‘But… Sir, what else do you expect me to find?’
‘You’re my Science Officer. I expect anything I ask for.’
‘Cap, that’s a bit much,’ interrupted Yankee, standing up for the small man, letting go of the dead man’s ankles, forcing Billy to intervene and grab on to the thrashing things. ‘Little Specks is doing his best. And you know what? I totally agree. Don’t know what else you think he can find out from this thing. As much as you want it to be, this ain’t no clue for us to follow!’
‘When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it,’ snapped Charlie, taking a bold step forward.
‘Ain’t that the truth. Only opinion that matters nowadays is yours, Captain.’
‘Remember your place, soldier.’ Charlie’s words were stern and powerful, and his glare was even more so. ‘Specks,’ he bellowed, returning his focus. ‘I don’t care what you need to do. Cut further. Go deeper. I need more information.’
The situation was too much. Charlie and Yankee were glaring at one another, Billy and Doodle were gripping on to the undead man, who was thrashing about more and more, and poor Specks was shaking in his boots as he re-approached the thing. But suddenly the Old Woman stepped in and changed everything. She moved with surprising speed, getting up from her resting place, walking forwards, raising her cane high above her head, and piercing the dead man’s skull, without hesitation, immediately killing it and silencing its moans. Charlie looked at her for an answer.
‘He’d suffered long enough,’ she retorted.
She tapped her cane on the ground three times, and quick as a snap, two nurses emerged from behind the curtains. They hurried over, the Old Woman said something to them in German, and they picked up the stretcher between them, struggling with the thing’s dead weight. Without delay they took the remains of the man through the curtained path and out of the building. The Old Woman turned and faced all the men, obviously disgruntled.
‘Now, you five men will quieten down. And all of you will get some sleep.’ She looked at Specks with pity, who was staring at his bloodied up hands. ‘And you young man, I will see to it you are properly cleaned up.’
The Old Woman shuffled over to the curtains and gradually opened them, revealing to the squad the true purpose of the room. Over time, the church had been turned into a rough and ready hospital, and all around them a select group of the more experienced women of the village, and one or two of the men, dashed around doing their best to look after a large amount of patients who were laying quite helplessly on some metallic crude beds, which were lined up in six rows. But it was the patients that were truly concerning Charlie and the boys. All had injuries that needed tending to. Bloody eye patches, gunshot wounds and even missing limbs were among some of the damage sustained. Nurses tended the grievances, whilst others fed them, and brought water to all. But the problem was the ethnicity of the patient - for each and every one was a Nazi soldier. For a very long time the boys were speechless.
‘This… is your injured?’ asked Charlie.
‘Nazis,’ whispered Billy.
‘I feel so… conflicted,’ remarked Doodle, who, along with his brother was holding his gun a little tighter. Even Billy’s fists were clenched!
‘There are no sides here, merely different uniforms,’ she said, turning to the squad, and resting on her cane. ‘We try to consider people as individuals. And it is in our nature to help those that need it. You are our guests, and are welcome to stay. As are these equally fine people.’ She hobbled over to the Captain and stood next to him, admiring the work of her people. ‘We have no interest in what side you fight for. You are all soldiers. Whatever the reason, you have all committed terrible acts against your fellow man. As long as you don’t bring your war here, we welcome you. Now, do I need to ask you all to leave, or are you going to behave yourselves, and act like civilised adults?’
The men looked between themselves. Quietly, slowly, they nodded.
A few hours later the men sat rather uncomfortably in the church. The stone walls were wet and the moonlight was shining through the windows, filling the place with a ghostly light. After Specks had been cleaned up by a few of the nicer women, he was lucky enough to find an old, but working, typewriter, and so he busied himself retyping some of his more damp notes, keeping himself well away from the Captain. Billy was walking amongst the injured Nazis, who were merry enough, and although they looked at him and his arm with great curiosity, they smiled and politely nodded as he passed by, none showing any interest in conflict. The rest of the men had dragged some of the benches together and formed a small area to sleep in, even making a tiny fire in the middle using a bowl, a metal stand and some discarded wood that was dry enough to burn. Yankee and Doodle sat with Charlie who was extremely quiet, and not contributing to the conversation.
‘This sure feels weird,’ said Yankee. ‘Getting shut-eye under the same roof as the Goddamned enemy. Don’t sit right with me. No, sir.’
‘It’s pretty do-wacky, if you ask me,’ contributed Doodle, who was resting his shotgun on his knee and eyeing up the room. ‘Doubt I’ll be getting much sleepy time tonight. What do you say, Captain?’
But Charlie said nothing, instead staring deeply into the fire. Yankee and Doodle looked between themselves, finding their Captain’s behaviour more and more intolerable.
‘Looks like this place got hit pretty bad. Was thinking I could fix up that wagon out there. Maybe repair a few of the rooftops,’ suggested Yankee. He nudged his brother to contribute.
‘Yeah. Good idea. I could fix the doors. Board up the windows. Stop the Goddamned cold freezing up the little kiddies,’ he added.
‘What do you think, Captain? Like the old lady said, we’ve got a few days before the Maniac Men…’
‘Manipulated Men,’ interrupted Specks.
‘Right, till the Mystery Men come back. We could get some rest. Eat some food, drink some water, make some friends, present company not included,’ he whispered, glancing at the Nazi patients, ‘and help these people. You heard them. They ain’t going nowhere anytime soon. Maybe we could make things a little more comfortable for them. It don’t seem right, good people suffering like this. What do you say?’
Charlie thought for a while, but didn’t look at the brothers. He watched Billy walking amongst the enemy, he watched Specks occupying himself on the typewriter, rewriting misadventures and decisions he didn’t care to remember. Until at long last he answered:
‘I think we should all get some sleep. Billy, it’s time to turn in,’ he waved the young man back over. ‘Specks, enough typing for the night. Get yourself some kip.’ Charlie saw Yankee glowering at him for an answer. ‘And that is an order,’ the Captain emphasised.
As instructed the squad got themselves as comfortable as possible. Billy was quick to sleep, though his typical nightmares were already waiting for him as he drifted into his restless slumber. Specks fell asleep with his head in his books and his glasses on the end of his nose. Whereas Yankee and Doodle took a go
od long while to drift off, with one eye on the Nazi patients, and one hand grasping their weapons, fighting off their indefatigable fatigue. Until finally, all that remained was Charlie, awake, deep in thought, staring at the fire, and trying to remember who he really was.
The Shoebox Pursuit - Part 3 - Poppies and Warpaint Page 6
