Night of the Nazi Zombies

by Michael G. Thomas

  Sergeant Smith dropped back down into the ditch.

  “Right, we need to get closer. I’ve got a feeling this base is deserted. There’s no sign of activity but we need to keep on the ball. Gardner, I want you to stay here and watch for any activity. You will provide overwatch. Lewis, you’re with me.” Smith lifted his head up, double-checking the German base for anything new. It all looked the same; he turned back to Lewis and whispered, “Come on.”

  Keeping low the two men crept along the ditch running parallel to the narrow road. Gardner lifted his Enfield rifle to his shoulder, scanning the area over its iron sights. Smith reached the ditch that was close to the pill box, it guarded the entrance to the base but from their position it appeared deserted. Giving the signal to Lewis to cover him he jumped up and took cover alongside its outer wall. With his Sten held up to his shoulder he moved around the perimeter until reaching the corner.

  Gardner could just make out Smith’s outline from his position, he checked the immediate area around him but there was still no sign of the enemy. This was going a little too well and he didn’t like it.

  From Smith’s position he could see the doorway of the pillbox and also inside the base. So far there was still no sign of movement. Perhaps the base had been abandoned, if true though then where were the soldiers now? He had a moment of dread as he considered the possibility that the base had emptied to attack the other British forces that should already be at the Orne River Bridge. If that were true the base would still be guarded though. He stayed alert and crept up to the entrance, still no sign of movement. He rushed inside, ready for whatever lay in store, only to find the small fortification deserted. In the corner was a small table and a few chairs, whilst stacked next to the table were a number of weapons and two boxes of ammunition. The equipment was hardly state of the art.

  He moved closer and examined the weapons. The first couple were Steyr-Mannlicher M1895 rifles, an early bolt-action weapon adopted and employed by the Austro-Hungarian army throughout World War I. It was a solid, reliable weapon but hardly standard military issue in 1944. Next to these was a Model 1888 Commission Rifle, another late 19th century German bolt-action rifle. Looking behind the rifles he spotted a couple of MP38 submachine guns, he allowed himself a smile and reach for one. He spoke quietly, “Tasty!” as he slung one of the weapons over his shoulder. It was much the same as his Sten, but featured a vertical stick magazine and a somewhat more luxurious finish compared to his rustic but useful Sten.

  Leaving the weapons he moved to the crates and examined the top one that already had its lid cracked open. Inside were bottles of wine. Smith looked confused as he slid the box to the side and checked the next one, it contained tools and various knives and blades. None of this made sense. He walked to the small radio room that was attached to the side of the building. There was a mains powered radio set and several books nearby. He pocketed the books and tried switching on the radio. Nothing happened, there must be no power.

  Based on the weapons and the fact the inhabitants had simply abandoned equipment and books, this base must be the home of a reserve unit. Alternatively the German Army was far worse equipped and motivated than intelligence had led them to believe. This surely couldn’t be a frontline infantry base; if an army base wasn’t primarily for combat units and there were no vehicles being worked on, what on earth could this place is for? Presumably it was a storage depot of some kind.

  Whilst he contemplated this problem he spotted a map on the wall, he moved closer to examine it. He immediately recognised the layout of the village as the location where his fellow soldiers were currently holed up. Around the village were half a dozen more inhabited areas. The road to the Orne River Bridge disappeared off to the north of the map but it wasn’t this that caught Smith’s eye, more the red areas. Dotted around the map were four red circles with a symbol in the middle of each. The base was also on the map and was marked with a symbol that looked like an inverted S, or perhaps a Z. Smith stepped back to get a look at the whole map. There were roads leading to the four red areas from this base and joining them altogether was a dotted green line. What was so special about these five places? Smith ripped the map from the wall and stuffed it into his pocket. He definitely needed more intelligence, something weird was going on in this area and he needed more information. He popped his head out of the pillbox, the coast was clear. He stepped out and around the corner so that he could signal to Lewis to follow him.

  Smith whispered, “I don’t think this is a normal base, we need to get as much information as we can, something strange is going on here.”

  He signalled with his hand and the two moved past the pillbox and up to the gate that marked the perimeter of the base. Each man took up positions either side of the gate, checking one last time before they moved inside.

  * * *

  Jones had now entered three of the houses and so far had managed to find seven terrified locals. Adrienne had been invaluable in calming them down and also getting around the language barrier. He had sent the survivors back with Clarke to be checked for injuries and more importantly, bites from the creatures. Apparently Captain Scott also wanted to debrief them as much as possible; it seemed this creature situation was much more serious than they had thought. For now though, Jones had one last house to visit and this one in particular worried him. Unlike the previous houses this one had its front door slightly ajar. Did this mean somebody had forced their way in or that the previous inhabitants had abandoned it in haste? Either way Jones was being extra careful with this one. Moving up to the door he pointed his Sten at the doorway and booted the door open. Nothing happened and the door irritatingly swung back and shut on him. He turned to Wilks with a sheepish expression on his face.

  “Oops!” he called.

  Putting his hand on the door he pushed it open again and started moving through the doorway. With a series of shrieks and groans two of the dead creatures forced their way out and directly into the path of Jones who still had his hand on the door. Without hesitating he fired a long burst from his Sten into the two things. The impact from the submachine gun blasted chunks from the torsos of the creatures and threw them both back into the house. Wilks lifted his Sten to his shoulder and joined in, hitting them both with a short burst before running over to Jones.

  The two men stood at the doorway trying to decide whether to go further or to abandon the house and return to the church. Though the village had been quiet since they’d destroyed the creatures, there had been a weird silence about the place. After shooting the two creatures something had changed and Jones couldn’t put a finger on it. His training kicked in and he stepped a few feet from the house and scanned the area, holding up his Sten gun in case of attack. Wilks looked across the street and out into the fields, his eyes darted across as he though he saw movement.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Wilks.

  Jones cocked his head slightly, and then he heard it. The sound was the same as the groan and shrieking sound they had heard from their attackers in the previous hours.

  “Oh...shit!” called out Jones.

  Wilks stepped away from the house, about to start running back to the church. Jones stopped him, putting his hand on his arm.

  “Not yet, we need to clear this place before we leave. What if those things were trying to get to somebody inside?”

  The two men returned to the house, both entering quickly but with their weapons lowered and ready for action. Apart from the gore all over the porch from the two dead creatures there were no signs of anything else. Jones kicked open the doors but they still found nothing of note. All that remained were the stairs and the two rooms at the top. Stepping behind each other they moved up until they could see the first door. Wilks pointed his weapon at the door and Jones kicked it open. Like the rest of the house it was deserted. There was just the last room left and this one was dark and locked. Jones tried to open it but it refused to budge. Jones lifted his boot and smashed it into the thin wood, splinteri
ng it and yet it still wouldn’t open. Wilks joined in by smashing his Sten’s wooden stock hard into the wood. More of the material splintered and broke leaving a hole big enough to squeeze a man’s head inside. The two soldiers looked at each other, neither prepared to do the stupid thing and expose his head. Jones crept up to the recently smashed hole and looked from one side to the other. From what he could see there were large pieces of furniture stacked up against the door.

  Wilks spoke quietly, “Who blocked the door? There’s no way out of that room, not even a window.”

  It was then that Jones spotted him, the dark shape hiding in the corner. Jones jumped back a little, surprised by the shape.

  “Did you see that? There’s a guy in there,” he said almost hysterically.

  Wilks had a look and then stepped back.

  “Do you reckon its one of those things or a local?”

  Jones looked around the landing at the top of the stairs whilst Wilks stood there worried.

  “What are you thinking Sarge?”

  Jones stopped, put his finger in the air as if he had an idea and then walked up to the door and shouted inside, “Oy, mate!”

  The shape moved a little, and then staggered closer to the door. The two soldiers stepped back, pointing their weapons directly at its face. The last thing they expected was for it to speak, even more unexpected was that it wore a German uniform!

  “Wer sind Sie?” said the man to the bewilderment of the British soldiers.

  They had no idea what he meant and said nothing. The German continued.

  “Ich bin ein Soldat aus dem Ost-Bataillon.”

  Jones answered with a sharp reply, “You speak any English mate?”

  The man disappeared and was soon followed by a lot of noise as he moved the heavy furniture away from the door. With a click the broken door opened and the German stepped out to meet them. He held out his hand and Jones, after a moment of hesitation, took the hand and shook it.

  The man spoke, “Mein Name ist Wilhelm Kohl.”

  Jones nodded, even he could understand what the man was saying, he introduced himself, “Sergeant Jones, British 6th Airborne.”

  The German nodded and indicated to the stairs. Jones took this to mean he was ready to leave. The three men headed down the staircase and out into the street.

  * * *

  Smith had now entered the base and had a good idea of the layout. There was one way in and that was the way they had come. What was strange was that there were many blood trails, some from the containers and others from where there had presumably been trucks. The ground in the centre of the base was freshly scraped and looked like whoever had been there had left in a hurry. The base or more accurately, the compound, contained three Opel-Blitz 3 tonne trucks and pile upon pile of the wooden containers that seemed to pop up everywhere. There was a small prefabricated building at the far end and a small building, possibly a generator room for the lights. Smith moved to examine the containers whilst Lewis went to the generator room. Upon closer examination Smith found all the crates were either broken or missing their lids. Not one of the crates was sealed. What were they transporting and where were they now? Meanwhile Lewis had opened the door to the room and found equipment and fuel for a petrol generator. He closed the door and moved over to the building at the far end, staying close to the trucks to avoid being out in the open too long.

  Smith finally found a single container that whilst broken, was slightly different to the rest. This one contained fragments of ripped clothing. It was as if somebody had been inside it and broken their way out. He thought for a moment then looked at the inside in more detail; the wood was covered in scratch marks and blood.

  He spoke quietly under his breath, “Not good.”

  He left the containers and joined Lewis at the building at the far end. The door was locked and Lewis was busy fiddling with a piece of metal trying to force it open. With a dull clunk the lock popped open and the two men went in. Inside it comprised of a long corridor with three small rooms at one side and a room at the end of the corridor. Above each door was a small glass window. Lewis clicked open the first door and Smith moved in slowly. The window provided a small amount of light; luckily there were windows opposite the door so the room was surprisingly well lit. There were three large desks and lots of shelves containing fluids and what looked like samples. Smith moved forward and looked at the first one; it had the usual toxic symbol on the front and had a thick, slime type substance inside. Alongside the glass vessel were small glass tubes, slightly smaller than test tubes, each filled with what looked like the substance. Smith pointed to them to Lewis could and also pointed to his bag. Lewis started loading items into the bag, being careful not to break anything.

  From what Smith could see it looked like this base was some kind of research centre, though he was surprised at the lack of security. Maybe the building was more a delivery place, where people came to collect something, maybe even to be given doses of this stuff. Smith shivered at the thought, what could they be up to?

  The two men moved to the next room that featured the same layout, but this time the shelves were bare of anything resembling the glass containers with the fluid. There were a large number of books and reports though. Smith had a quick flick through them; they appeared to be medical journals and books on human and cattle biology. He took a few of the reports but left the books; they were heavy and didn’t seem to be particularly useful. The third room was full of dusty boxes and containers, mainly with used glass containers in them along with spare paper and supplies, hardly anything the soldiers could make use of. All that was left was the room at the end of the corridor. Moving close to the door it was clear that this room was different in some way. The handle and lock were not the same as the other rooms and there were no windows to provide any light inside.

  In the distance they heard the sound of gunfire, Smith instantly recognised it as short bursts from a submachine gun. The other team must have run into trouble, they needed to leave, and fast. Without pausing Smith slammed his boot into the door and with one meaty kick simply smashed it open. The two men stood in shock at what they saw. The room was lit by a small window in the centre of the ceiling and underneath it, chained to the floor was a completely naked man. This man was no ordinary man though. He was one of those things, the creatures that had been attacking them. Along his arms and chest were metal fittings that had been stitched into his flesh, almost as if they were intended for use with cannulas, the flexible tubes that may be inserted to deliver medication or drain fluid. The creature, like the others they had seen, had a quantity of a vile, blood like substance dripping from its mouth. It saw the two men and opened its jaw wide and howled in the awful groaning sound they were now very familiar with. Smith told Lewis to leave the building and he followed closely behind. As he left the room he turned around and fired a single 9mm shot into the creature’s head. It snapped backwards and crumpled to the ground with a sigh. The two left and emerged into the yard at the centre of the compound.

  Smith started running, shouting as he ran.

  “Come on, we need to get back!”

  They ran past the gate and pillbox and jumped down into the ditch, making their way to Gardner who was still watching them and the area for hostiles.

  * * *

  The inside of the church was now a hive of activity with both the soldiers and now seven survivors from the village, all sheltering. The civilians had been explaining what had happened to them over the last two days to Madeleine, whilst she then translated to Captain Scott. So far the survivors had brought several keys facts to light. The first was that these creatures had been in the area for at least two days and that that had some specific attributes. They were drawn to sound and light, which he had already worked out, but it was good to get confirmation. More worrying though, was that these things only turned on you after they had already been killed or had died from some other natural causes. The second thing was that they had appeared shortly after some
kind of incident at the base. According to one of the old men the base had been there for several months and the Germans had been using it to move something to depots around the countryside. After the incident two days ago nobody that left the village had returned, apart from these creatures. It seemed from what they told him that this area right up to and probably including the Orne River Bridge, was likely to be exposed to these creatures.

  Word came from the tower that Jones was approaching with another survivor. The surprised soldiers opened the door and stopped what they were doing as they watched Jones enter the church, closely followed by Wilks and a German soldier. Jones was out of breath and had to pause for a moment whilst he took in air, he held onto one of the pews for a few seconds. Captain Scott approached him cautiously whilst a few of the soldiers pointed their weapons at the German.

  Jones spoke up, “Sir, we found him in the house; it looks like those things were after him. I don’t think he’s a problem. He doesn’t speak English though.”

  With a gesture from his hand, Harris stepped forward and checked the German for weapons. The soldier, sensing the danger of the situation raised his hands and turned to help Harris. He shrugged after confirming he had no weapons.

  Captain Scott stepped up to the German, eyeing him carefully, assessing him as best he could. Everything he knew told him this man wasn’t a threat but he had to be sure.

  He asked the German if he knew where what was happening.