“I want you and these five to form a centre guard unit,” he waved his arm at M. Poulain, the two young Frenchman and the middle aged couple.
He continued, “Your job is to look for any gaps or weaknesses. If you see a hole, plug it and then get back here,” he pointed to the centre of the room.
He handed the first two Sten guns to the young Frenchmen. More gunfire came from the church tower, the sound encouraging the couple to grab a gun each. M. Poulain, holding one of the weapons in a surprisingly comfortable position, spoke to the others whilst pointing at the parts of the weapon.
Captain Scott left the old man to explain about the weapons whilst he turned his attention to Adrienne and Madeleine who were still hiding along the aisle. He gestured to them to come to the centre of the room. They needed no encouragement as they made a quick dash to the middle of the church. The captain held up handfuls of 9mm bullets and a Sten gun and then spoke slowly.
“I need you to give these bullets and loaders to the men with these guns,” he said.
He held the gun in front of them and then showed them the bullets along with the required magazine loader once again. With an eagerness that surprised him, the two girls grabbed handfuls of bullets and split off to the aisle and chancel to help out. As each girl reached one of the defenders they spoke or tapped on their arms and then placed the supplies nearby. As soon as they were done they returned for more. Captain Scott nodded in satisfaction. This left just the three old civilians that were unable to fight, he had a job for them as well. He beckoned for them to join him at the weapons stash whilst brandishing the weapons.
* * *
Out in the darkness of the French night Steiner was not enjoying himself. He was cold, tired and his head was still pounding. He really wished he hadn’t bothered with that awful local wine. It wasn’t one of his better decisions. After following a circular route to avoid the crashed tank and any contact with the creatures he had finally made it to a clearing just north of the village’s vicarage. He was still surprised that this French village contained a vicarage, having always considered the area to be predominantly catholic. The problem though was not the vicarage, but the fact that since getting to this location the number of creatures had multiplied massively. By keeping low and quiet he’d avoided them so far. Although after this careful evasion he was now in a situation where he could no longer turn back. The sound of their groans had surprised him at the start but now he could hear them from every direction. In front of him the vicarage looked quiet but that didn’t mean it was safe. He could however make out moving shadows near the boundary of the large house and every tree seemed to house something untoward. Off to the distance on his right was the cemetery and beyond that the outline of the church. Should he make a break through the cemetery to the church or take cover in the vicarage whilst he mulled over his options? If he sheltered in the large house he could wait there till daybreak, but what if nobody came for him? He looked back to the cemetery; it was lined with trees that obscured the church. He was about to make a move for the church when he noticed something that encouraged him to stay down low. He concentrated, straining his eyes to look at the tombstones ahead of him.
“Shit!” he swore quietly to himself.
The cemetery was crawling with undead creatures. They were moving slowly away from his position, presumably towards the church. With a last moment given to consider his position, he lifted himself up and crept quietly forward to the vicarage. The old house was well built, just like the nearby church. There was no doorway from the north as the main entrance faced the cemetery to the east. With a quick look around him he checked for any signs of the undead monsters. It looked clear; he took a deep breath and then dashed to the house. The distance was short but the fear of the unknown and the short term speed left his heart pounding in his ears. He almost stumbled in his desire to clear the open ground. With a final few steps he reached the corner of the house on the north-west section. He pulled himself close to the cold stonework, making sure he looked as small and unnoticeable as possible. Looking around discretely, it appeared that nobody seemed to have noticed him. From this position he now had a good view of the courtyard to the west that led from the house to the cemetery. There was a gravel driveway that curled from the house, down to the southern part of the house and the road. This road led into the village and directly in front of the church. Trees flanked the courtyard and it was these that concerned Steiner the most. Under each one was a dark, shadowy area that Steiner wanted to avoid at all costs. What worried him more than the darkness though was that he could again hear the groaning and moaning of the creatures out into the distance. It sounded like they were on the move and yet he couldn’t see a single one in this area.
A distant gunshot echoed out across the skyline, the sound of the shot reverberated against the glass panes of the house and out into the courtyard. Steiner looked out to the west. It had definitely come from the church or somewhere very near. The creatures let out more howls, their slow movement finally giving their positions away. From under the trees and dark places the creatures started to move, the majority towards the cemetery and the church. A small number just seemed to wander in random directions, as though they were waiting to be told where to go.
Steiner looked all around, checking none of them were heading towards him. So far it looked okay. He moved slowly, following the perimeter around the large house. He stepped carefully, trying to keep the sound of his feet on the gravel as quiet as possible. After a few more steps he came to a large bay window, looking inside he could see nothing due to the curtains being drawn tightly across. Moving a little further he could see a small gap in the curtain. He lifted himself up to the gap to peer inside. As he eyes adjusted to the interior gloom he could make out overturned furniture. Near the wall was a pulled down bookcase that looked like it was resting against the interior door. Not a good sign! Steiner continued past the windows and towards the substantial stone porch. This structure pushed out almost six feet from the building so that it almost looked like a small house. At the front of the porch it was totally open, the actual door to the building was inside, protected from the elements by the stone structure. There was no sign of trouble at this part of the house, so Steiner slipped inside the porch and approached the door. Nothing looked dangerous to him yet, apart from the fact that the front door was slightly ajar. After years of fighting, Steiner was no fool. If the door was ajar it was because somebody had left it that way. The question was, why? If it was a local then it could be a simple mistake, it could also mean one of those creatures had opened it or more likely, the house had been abandoned. Steiner considered the room he’d looked at as he worked his way around the house. Something bad had happened inside this house, the barricaded room suggested people had been trying to defend it. Whether they had been successful though was to be seen. Whilst he waited in the porch he heard more wailing from the creatures, It was definitely coming from the courtyard so he lowered his submachine gun and pushed the door open with the weapon to reveal a large, empty hallway and a grand staircase that wound up to the first floor. Taking a deep breath he made his way slowly into the house.
A sharp crack sound, like that of a distant rifle interrupted his progress. It came from behind him, likely from the church. He paused, not liking being in such an exposed position. Before he could move, several more cracks blasted out into the night followed by the familiar, yet terrifying wail of the undead. Steiner threw himself up to the wall and looked back towards the cemetery. He could see flashes of light, like tiny pinpricks on the horizon. It was the telltale sign of the start of a battle. Whoever was at the church was in an unenviable position. The sound of the wailing and groaning of the dead changed, as though they were outside the door. The sound was louder and more distinct, there was a good reason for it as Steiner soon discovered.
Three of the undead stumbled inside, arms reached out and mouths open and dripping with the foul blood he’d seen too many times. These creatures wo
re the uniforms of his unit, the Ost Battalion, one even carried a Kar98K rifle on his shoulder, though he appeared to show no signs of trying to use it. Stepping backwards Steiner tripped over the bottom stair of the staircase. Dropping to the ground he knocked his lower back and shoulder blades hard into the wooden steps. A jolt of pain seared through his body and he cried out for a moment. The view of the undead moving towards him soon snapped him out of his daze though, and in one quick motion he lifted up his submachine gun and emptied a score of rounds into the torsos of the creatures. Each one of the 7.62mm bullets ripped through the creatures’ soft flesh, tearing out chunks as they exited the bodies. The burst sent them back through the door and into a crumpled mess on the ground. He lifted himself up and moved quickly to shut the heavy oak door. He got it half closed before another small group tried to force their way in. Pushing with all his might he couldn’t quite make it. The numbers started to push him back; there was no way he could get the door shut.
A voice behind Steiner called out in French. He didn’t know what words the man was saying but the intent was clear. At the top of the stairs was a very old man, perhaps the priest for the area. The man was leaning against the banister rail, a bloody bandage tied across his shoulder and neck. In his hands he carried a double barrel hammer lock shotgun. With a booming sound that deafened Steiner he fired two shots, filling the open area with lead pellets and shredding the undead where they stood. Steiner immediately ran back to the door and jammed it shut, securing it with the heavy lock from the inside.
He then picked up his PPSH that was still on the ground and ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. Steiner reached the same level as the man and before he could speak the strange old man gestured to the arch to the right, leading off behind him. As Steiner walked past him he noted the bandolier of shotgun shells he was carrying, slung across his body. Even more unusual was the fact that he was carrying a large axe, it was thrust into a rough brown belt around his waist. As Steiner continued along the landing he noticed a large number of bodies dotted about, some on the floor, others up against the walls, slouched as though they had been dumped there. Against the walls were the tell tale signs of a bloody close quarter fight.
Behind Steiner the firing continued as the old man fired more shots down the staircase. He could hear a pounding sound coming from the front door, it was as if the creatures were trying to knock down the door using just their bodies. A crashing sound of glass indicated that something was trying to enter through the lower windows. The pounding now started in one of the lower rooms until just seconds later multiple arms appeared through the entrance to one of the rooms near the entrance. The barricaded door ripped open as more of the creatures poured inside, they must be a lot stronger than their decaying bodies suggested. The old man fired another two shots and then proceeded to load more shells. Four of the creatures started to move up the stairs, another dozen milled around near the entrance. Steiner lifted his weapon to his shoulder and fired a short burst, finally expending his ammunition. The bullets slowed down those on the stairs but didn’t stop them. Throwing down the weapon he pulled at the old man to leave. Turning to face Steiner he could now see the man’s skin was pale and his wounds were deep and fatal. Quite frankly Steiner was amazed the old man wasn’t one of the creatures already. He pulled off his bandolier and thrust it and his shotgun into Steiner’s hands. He shoved the German soldier into the large room at the end of the landing and then slammed the door shut behind him.
Steiner spun around, trying to open the door. It was securely locked and he couldn’t open it without tools of some kind. Lowering himself he peered through the keyhole, looking to see what was happening. He could just make out the shapes of several of the creatures making their way along the landing to the old man. Looking hard to his right he spotted the man, wielding the heavy axe and in the middle of taking one of the thing’s head clean off with the weapon. The last thing Steiner saw was the old man rushing off to the stairs, hacking with his axe as he went. Steiner simply couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Turning around he looked into the room. In the centre he saw a body laid out on the table with bullet wounds in the chest and head, presumably one of the people here had turned on them. There was blood everywhere as well as more bodies.
Two men, one in his early fifties and another who looked like a labourer came in from the other side. The older man beckoned for him to follow them. They moved away, Steiner didn’t want to leave the old man though and lifted a chair in the room, ready to strike at the door. The older of the two men grabbed his hand and spoke quickly.
“You must leave him, we can do nothing for him now.”
Steiner looked confused; looking over his shoulder he could hear the sound of howling and fighting on the staircase. A single gunshot rang out and the sound of the fight immediately vanished, to be replaced by the scratching and movement of the creatures.
“Crazy bastard!” muttered Steiner to himself.
He lowered the chair, not happy with the fact that the old man appeared to have been killed. He followed the two men out of the room and into a smaller storage room. There he found another man who was loading a rifle with bullets. There was a table to one side with a handgun resting on it along with what looked like an empty magazine. Steiner looked around, taking in more details. There were piles of tools and a bizarre mixture of weapons including a pitchfork, several shovels and what looked like decorative swords that must have been pulled from the walls of the house. The man loading the rifle spoke first in German.
“If you want to live you need to come with us,” he said.
Steiner, a little surprised at both his comments and the fact that he was speaking in German, said nothing.
“Those things have most of the house now, we need to get out of here,” the man continued.
Steiner regained his thoughts and put a hand on the man’s upper arm.
“Who are you and what happened?” he asked.
The man looked frustrated, especially as the two older men were beckoning for them to keep moving into the next room. He got up from his chair, explaining briefly to Steiner.
“I am a photographer from Der Angriff. I was heading back from visiting the Atlantic defences when we were attacked,” he answered.
“We?” asked Steiner.
The oldest of the three men left the room, signalling for them to follow. The photographer did so and Steiner stayed with them, entering a long hallway with paintings down one side.
The photographer continued, “Yes, these men were in the truck with me when we crashed, not far from here. There were others but they were killed by those things outside.”
The small group entered another room facing the south of the building. The older man shut the door behind them and proceeded to drag a heavy desk over to it, barricading it from the hallway.
Steiner gestured towards the direction they had just left from, “What about the man on the stairs?”
The photographer sighed, “Yes, he was a good man. He was one of those bitten after the crash. They turn into monsters after they’re bitten, you know?”
Steiner nodded; he was familiar with these things.
“He didn’t want us to kill him so he went out through the door to kill as many as he could.”
There was an uncomfortable silence that Steiner quickly broke.
“Isn’t there anything you can do for him?”
“No,” answered the man who looked like a labourer, “once you’re bitten we think you only have an hour or so and then you turn into one of them. The only thing he wanted us to do was to let him go and kill them.”
Steiner slumped down, exhausted and confused. The older man looked up and down at him, noticing the insignia on his uniform.
“How about you, your unit is based nearby isn’t it?”
Steiner explained what had happened at the tank and then his minor saga in evading the creatures to get to the house. The photographer took in all the details, seemingly intrigu
ed about the church and the people Steiner thought were hiding there.
“Do you have any idea how many are in the church?” he asked.
Steiner was confused by the man’s almost obsessive interest in the church. He looked over to the other man, trying to get a better idea as to what was going on. He then turned back to answer the question.
“No idea. Right now I’m more concerned with what we are going to do,” he replied.
The older man moved to the window and looked out towards the church. He sounded excited as he explained what he saw.
“I can see lots of the creatures now, and it looks like they’re trying to get into the church.”
Almost at the same time came a flurry of gunshots along with the buzzing sound of machinegun fire. He looked at Steiner without saying anything else. More shots started as a number of people began some kind of firefight, presumably at the church.
The photographer spoke first, “We can use this as a diversion to escape to the main road and try and get to the Orne Bridge and the army base there.”
Steiner turned his head in disagreement.
“I don’t think so. Have you seen how many of those things are out there? We could try to get over there though,” he gestured to the church, “and give them a hand. What if those creatures are at the bridge, we’ll never make it. Whoever is at the church seems to have plenty of weapons and ammunition, more than we have.”
Steiner picked up a slightly curved sword; it was a well made 1890 French cavalry trooper’s sword. He looked at it, somewhat confused that it would be in a vicarage of all places. The weapon had a well used brass hilt and a triple bars to protect the hand. The blade was firmly housed inside its steel scabbard. He pulled at the hilt, drawing the weapon to reveal a pristine blade. The edge was fine and unmarked, evidently it had seen little to no use. He gently touched the edge of the blade, it was still sharp. He’d practiced fencing as a boy, though this was a world way from the weapons he had used. He had even been considered for the German team in the ‘36 Olympics but had just missed out.
Night of the Nazi Zombies Page 14
