Chapter 23
Rain was falling, not hard, just consistently, making the road muddy and waterlogged. Trees soaked up water and ferns gave off almost a sweet smell as the water touched their stems.
Standing to the side of the road was a small boy. He was sobbing uncontrollably. Even a snorting sound behind him failed to break his lonely stance.
A white horse pulled up alongside him. The boy’s soft brown hair was wet through as the rain mixed with tears rolling down his face. He was not scared when this towering figure blacked out the light around him. The sharp blue uniform with a white strap across the chest and white helmet stood out. The boy just pointed down the road to an overturned cart.
The lancer leaned down and collected the young lad in one quick swoop. He gripped him tight, as they embraced each other. He then rode over to a red horse chestnut tree by the side of the road and placed the young boy on a fork in the trunk.
“Climb the tree, Jack.”
“Yes, Father.”
The lancer turned to face the overturned cart. His horse reared a little as its senses picked up danger and his hand tightened on his lance. Slowly he urged the horse on, the rain still falling slowly, giving a rise to a damp smell. The cart had been violently hit and knocked over. The driver of the cart had been ripped in half and all that was left were his legs, still caught up in the seat.
Then the first image came into sight; a group of flesh-eaters were feeding over a small girl’s body. Her legs were on show, and her white dress was now another colour. The strands of blonde hair that remained were scattered around the feeding group.
There was a razor-tooth sitting close to a tree. Its huge frame pawed at several dead bodies, guarding its food with intense ferocity.
Further up a small bank was a large man dressed in black priest clothes. He was pressed on top of a badly injured woman. She was still trying to push him off, although her life was slipping away from her. The man was kissing her and raping her defenceless body.
None of them had seen the lancer. He stopped for a second and a tear ran down his cheek. This was to be his last for now as rage started to engulf his body. He took out his knife and cut his arm. This renewed his concentration. With that, he lowered his lance and began a full charge at the razor-tooth. It was too busy eating to notice the lancer coming at it with full speed. When its eyes caught the glimmer of light reflecting off the metal spear it was too late. With deadly precision, the lance was thrust into the animal rupturing organs and piercing its heart. The beast gave out an almighty screech as it keeled to one side. Breathing heavily it tried to roll over, but the wound was fatal. The lancer leaned forward as the creature drew its last breath, making sure the animal saw his eyes as he took his sword and cut the beast’s throat.
This commotion had stirred the flesh-eaters. Two of them started to move from the girl and make their way over to the lancer. He withdrew his lance and sheathed his sword. Dismounting from his horse, which stood by the dead razor-tooth, he started walking towards them. The first flesh-eater quickened its step. It could not run, but sensed fresh meat. The blow that came down on its head sent it tumbling to the ground. The lance was then jabbed through its skull.
The other flesh-eater kept on coming. The three behind him had also left the body and were now moving at speed towards their foe. The lancer was controlling his anger well and kept a cool head as he struck the lance into the left knee cap of the flesh-eater nearest to him.
He then brought the pole round and knocked it down. The creature tried to stand but was instantly knocked down with a kick to the head and was then decapitated with a rough cutting action from his knife.
The other three flesh-eaters were now in range. With his lance he struck one in the head, bursting the spear through its face, then, quickly withdrawing it, he brought the pole around and knocked the legs of the other two away. Whilst they struggled to get up he finished them off, bringing the lance up and down on both of them, paying meticulous attention to their heads.
He turned around to see that the priest had risen from the woman he was attacking – the Lancer’s wife. He was a large, muscular man with a strap across his chest and a sword attached to his belt. He had a fresh scratch down the side of his face. His eyes fixed on the lancer, he began to clap and gesticulate as if he was enjoying the performance. The lancer stared motionlessly back.
The priest wiped his mouth and glanced over at the dying women. His eyes then focused on the lancer again. It was then that a shred of fear crept over him. He would not just be fighting a soldier; he was now fighting the husband of the dying woman and the father of the dead child.
Sensing moment he drew his sword, picked up an axe from the ground and came at the lancer. He moved quickly for man of his size and used the bank he was on to gain speed to plummet down on his victim. The lancer stood still and waited. Three hundred yards, two hundred yards, one hundred yards. The priest let out a war cry as he prepared to slash the soldier in front of him. To his amazement the lancer lowered his lance. The priest was closing in and did not really know what to think. He wanted to make this a quick kill and return to his unit.
The lancer calculated the distance and let the pole hit the ground. He then swept his right hand to his side and drew his revolver. He was fast and took aim within a fraction of a second of the gun being drawn. His finger squeezed the trigger and the round burst out of the chamber and nestled into the charging man’s stomach.
The priest kept on running for a moment or two before falling to the ground. He dropped his axe and sword and clutched both hands to his stomach. Pain was spread across his face. The light around him went dark and he looked up with desperation at his executioner.
The lancer took off his white gloves and tucked them into his belt. He then knelt down to maintain eye contact with the priest.
“You will pay for your sins here today.”
The priest tried to shake his head.
“Show me mercy, I beg you.”
No sooner had he let those words slip out than he received a kick in the stomach. Then he felt a sharp pain in his left, then right shin. The lancer made sure he could not walk again by piercing flesh and bone with his sword. He then grabbed the man by the hair and dragged him over to a large rock. His head was placed on the stone. The priest tried to move but the pain stopped his body from shifting.
The lancer went over and picked up the priest’s axe. He slammed the butt of the axe into the priest’s head, not killing him, but leaving him stunned. Whilst he took a moment to come round, the lancer used the axe in quick succession to take off both the man’s arms.
He looked at the lancer. His eyes were full of desperation and pain. With one fell swoop, the lancer took his head off. He stood there for a moment or two afterwards, breathing heavily.
He then turned and ran over to his dying wife and held her in his arms. She was fatally wounded and struggled to talk. Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked into her husband’s eyes.
“Look after the children; look after them, my love.”
Her voice was weak as he pressed his face next to hers. He would never tell her that there was only Jack left. She took a deep breath in and passed away.
Shock hit him. He held his wife and cried and for the next few minutes he was lost as he gripped her body tightly. The pain was too much.
He had to refocus. He knew Jack was still waiting up a tree. He carefully laid down his wife and fetched his horse. He then went and retrieved his son and placed him by the cart. Quickly moving the dead priest’s legs, he told Jack not to look over at the creatures. Jack knew his sister was dead, but did not know his mother had passed away as well.
In the cart the lancer found a small shovel and began to dig a shallow grave. Holding back the screams within himself he carried his daughter to the hole and gently placed her down. Then he fetched his wife and placed her alongside.
He called Jack over to him. The lad could hardly walk and fell to his knees on seeing his mothe
r’s face. The shock of losing his sister and mother was almost too much. The lancer wanted him to say his goodbyes the best he could before he buried them. The lad lay on the ground shaking as his father bent down and hugged him.
“Jack, we do not have much time, my beautiful boy.”
He picked his son up and held him tight. Both of them began to cry. It helped to release pressure. Five minutes passed and Jack whispered that he wanted to kiss his mother one last time. He knelt down beside her and kissed her on the forehead. He took his sister’s hand and also kissed it. He then went and stood by a tree and told his father to do what he had to do.
The lancer buried them and made a makeshift cross. He went over to Jack and hugged him again.
They collected the horse and saddled up, then with a small kick to its side started off down the road, leaving the carnage behind them.
Chapter 24
The morning broke and Captain Hayward went to wash his face in a small stream. A kingfisher landed on a branch that was hanging over the cold running water. He watched this elegant bird, its bright plumage and sharp pose. Then the bird darted off for a short moment, returning with a small fish.
Captain Hayward smiled, something he felt conscious of doing. He then got up and walked back through a small woodland to the rest of the group. They had been resting from the hard journey and were quite settled where they were. The officers were looking over the maps and picking at each other’s route plans.
The major did not allow much more time to rest or discuss routes. It was time to push on and get moving. The wagons and carts rolled into action. The horses had proved invaluable and had probably meant the difference between life and death.
Scouts pushed ahead to be the eyes and ears for the convoy. Mountainous terrain was proving hard work for all of them. The weather had been fine for a long period of time but was now starting to become more wet and stormy. This made walking on the small tracks and roads harder. The waterlogged routes cut up easily and mud stuck to the feet. This meant changing their direction often to find a different, more accessible route.
Two days followed of hard rain and thundery weather. They were grateful for the lack of enemy sightings and the small mercy of having enough food and water in their bellies. Morale was low. Sores were starting to be a problem for most of the soldiers who marched alongside the wagons and carts.
The medical staff had ointments and various herbal remedies, which helped, but the main need was for a sustained rest. They guessed they were around three to four days away from Strasbourg and this was playing on the major’s mind. He felt they were so close that a rest would be suicidal.
The decision was taken from them when a fever broke out amongst the British Engineers. It spread rapidly over the next day and it meant they needed to find shelter from the conditions and get the main party healthy again.
The scouts had located many places along the route and kept the officers informed of such farms or stately homes. Villages, towns and anything larger were seen as too risky as enemy forces would target those places first. What had come up was a large manor house several miles from their current position. With sickness spreading amongst the soldiers, it was decided that this would be the best place to rest. It had a good farm wall enclosing the main house and some barns and other outbuildings where they could rest.
The major toyed with the idea of pressing ahead with the fit and able, leaving a detachment with the sick and wounded. He let the idea float through his brain, but when he suggested it to Captain Hayward he was reminded they had come too far to split the group. Numbers had counted for a lot in this war so far.
The building was searched by a small reconnaissance party as usual. Nothing could be found in the grounds or the manor house. This was ideal. It had enough rooms and space to sleep everyone. The horses could be rested and bedded in the stables. The major pushed for two days’ rest at the most, but some thought this could be closer to a week.
The army surgeon and doctors expressed their gratitude to the scouts for finding somewhere to take them out of the elements.
A quick reference was made to securing the surrounding area. The current mood had lifted with the appearance of the buildings.
Sleeping rough had been fine when the weather was good, but during this rainy period it was tougher on the non-military people. The soldiers were expected to tough it out, but with the fever spreading throughout the group this break was needed.
The wagons were used to block any gaps where the walls did not offer cover. A six foot wall surrounded most of the house. The courtyard was walled as well, but had a large entrance which was no longer gated.
The manor house was quite lavish inside. The rooms were divided out, and the nurses allocated the top floor of the house. Some of the soldiers were moved to the barns and other outbuildings. The quartermaster went to work dishing out the chores straight away. Clothes needed to be washed and weapons cleaned. The house was searched again, but only the cellar was left untouched. It was a large property with a Georgian feel about it. The décor was stunning and it must have been heart wrenching for the owners to leave. Some plinths were empty and this suggested that statues could have been taken. The truth was, anyone who had been chased by the enemy and their army of darkness would soon realise the true value of the possessions they undertook to save.
A small squad of British Engineers was assembled to check the cellar. They were given lanterns and candles to find their way around. The cook wanted to know if there was wine in the cellars as he was starting to prepare a feast for the group. He had a small team of helpers now, mainly those who liked cooking and wanted to get out of other duties. They had not always run a central kitchen. More often than not it was split into small groups and they would then cater for themselves. The cook would oversee the food supply, but liked to get everyone involved when he could.
The twelve men entered the cellar through a staircase in the main hall. It was long and winding. They would have sent fewer men in normal circumstances, but twelve felt like a suitable number for a dark place with so many interconnecting passageways.
The cellar was dry and had an aroma of dried fruits. It was quite a strong smell, but not overpowering. They found several barrels of wine, which was a pleasant surprise. There were many other treasures down there and it would take another day to search the whole area properly.
As the men left the small, cold room which housed the barrels, one of them thought they heard something. “It’s a rat!” barked an older veteran. The noise was louder the second time and made all the men stop in their tracks.
Each soldier started to feel the familiar anxiety creep over them. The passageways were narrow and it was a maze underground. “Is anyone there?’ The same veteran took control, raising his lantern as he tried to make out if he could see anything.
Something shuffled across an opening and moved back into the darkness.
“Look, lads, it’s time to move out of here. There are plenty of supplies, but it’s too risky. We will have to tell the captain and see what he thinks.”
As the veteran finished his sentence a voice called out.
“Help me. I’m scared and I need help...”
The voice was English with a German accent. The men had their rifles pointing on every opening now. The slightest movement could have caused a hail of bullets to rain down on the unfortunate victim.
“Come out and show yourself. Make sure you do it slowly, though, as we don’t want any accidents to happen,” said the Veteran.
“All right.”
To the right of where they were standing a silhouette started to emerge. Its frame was small and posture a little awkward.
“We’ll put a lantern down and then expect you to walk next to the light,” the Veteran said cautiously.
There was no verbal response, but the figure did move next to the light. Now the soldiers could see the outline more clearly. It looked like a priest of some sort. His head was lowered to one side so they could
not quite see his face.
“Come forward more so we can see your face,” the Veteran was clear and to the point.
The figure did not move.
“Benedict, where is Benedict?” The voice was gravelly and had a slight rasp.
They noticed something strange about the figure’s hands. It had extra long fingers and sharp nails. It was breathing heavily and letting out hissing sounds.
“Benedict? The boy from the abbey?
“Yesss.”
The veteran raised his rifle.
“You’ll never get the boy. Arthur, take Thatcher and tell the others they’re after Benedict.”
The veteran pushed the men behind him.
The figure raised its head. It looked human, but when it smiled the teeth were long and jagged. Its eyes were dark and wide, its nostrils flared and its tongue came out to an unnatural length.
“We’ll see about that.” It licked its lips and smiled in an eerily overconfident way.
“Time to meet with God.” The veteran raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger, hitting the figure in the stomach and forcing it back. This unleashed hell.
Flesh-eaters started to appear from the passageway, coming at the group from all angles. The veteran told them to pick their shots and use their bayonets where they could. “Keep a close formation as we fall back.”
A soldier let out a cry as teeth sank into his arm. He spun the flesh-eater around and head-butted it in the face. Falling into the dark was a mistake as they fell on him like piranhas scenting blood. His shouts and cries were quickly muffled as he was devoured.
Arthur and Thatcher broke off from the main group and pushed their way towards what they hoped was the exit. They were puzzled by the number of different routes and moved as fast as they could with Arthur holding his arm out with the lantern hanging from it. It only gave them a short view in front of them but after a few wrong turns they managed to find a staircase. Without thinking twice about where it would lead they rushed up it, both of them surprised to come out in the courtyard.
Europe Has Fallen Page 24
