The bodies were now a couple of paces clear and the soldiers pressed forwards to the gates. Pethard pushed at them but they would not open. In their rush they had forgotten about the belt. The fire was already at its zenith and they were running out of time. Only precious seconds remained. Lewis grabbed a pistol, pressed it against the belt and fired. One shot blew it apart. He kicked the flaming gate open and Pethard led the charge with a scream, shooting at those nearest.
From his vantage point kneeling at the choir balustrade Wood took aim with the rifle. He picked off the closest of the aggressors to the soldiers. Shot after shot rang out and diseased fell. The fire and the onslaught caused them to fall back. It was only perhaps fifteen metres from the chapel to the exit. The soldiers were shooting repeatedly with no time to aim properly. This was their one chance to escape. As a result of their haste many rounds either missed or failed to make the all-too-vital kill-shots. The commotion attracted the infected back towards them. Slowly they edged away from the safety of the chapel as they neared the beckoning doorway, but there were still so many of the enemy between them and freedom. Sometimes fifteen metres can be an insurmountable distance.
A noise from behind Wood distracted him. He was so focused on the task in hand that he almost ignored it. He finally turned, just in time to see one of the diseased bearing down on him. Hands were outstretched, closing in on him. The face of the young man was disfigured and enraged. He leered as he leant in to bite with a mouth full of jagged, rotten teeth and contaminated saliva. Wood gasped and jerked backwards. He tried to bring the rifle around to fire but the man was already too close. The weapon got knocked from his hands and clattered uselessly behind a pew, out of reach. The man stumbled over a stool and virtually fell on top of him. The look of glee as his jaws came close was evident, even in the eyes of one so deranged. It was then that Wood noticed the woman, only a couple of steps behind and coming at him fast. He struck out with his fist and managed to catch the man on the side of the head, which slowed him slightly. He punched again, knocking the man to the side and shoved him away. Scrambling to his knees he grabbed at a wooden stool just beside him. He swung it at the man and it smashed upon his head, drawing a bead of blood and stunning him further. The woman was now a step away. She launched herself through the air and landed on Wood and the pair collapsed to the floor. Pain jarred through his back but there was no time to acknowledge it. If he had broken a bone it would just have to wait. She lay on top of him, thrashing about and desperately trying to bite. With one hand he grabbed her around the throat, holding her teeth away and ignoring the scratches from her finger nails. Her strength and vigour surprised him and it was all he could do to keep her at bay. With his other hand he punched her repeatedly in the face. She screamed and reared up, shifting her weight slightly and Wood shoved her aside. The next object that came to hand was a metal candleholder. From his half-kneeling position he smashed her around the side of the head, again and again. Her skull dented and creased as she pitched forwards limply. This time it was Sergeant Wood, with the candlestick, in the chapel.
The man had regained his feet and dived forwards. For once however the obstructions of the wooden pews acted in Wood’s favour. The man caught a foot and slammed into Wood’s hip but not hard enough for him to lose his balance. He brought his elbow hard around, catching the man in the head and sending him crashing into the bannister. Wood seized his opportunity. As the man floundered Wood grabbed his feet and hoisted him up and over, sending him tumbling to the church floor. He landed across some benches, his back snapping loud enough for Wood to hear it even up in the choir above.
Gasping for breath he had no time to rest, nor to check himself for bites. In this, however, he was fortunate. Some people make their own luck in life, some are just born that way. Regardless of which, Sergeant Wood seemed to enjoy a protective sheath of fortune that kept him free from contamination. He snatched up the rifle and looked down at the struggle below. The vampire was still fighting for his life, bloodied from scratches and bites but he had nearly made it clear of the church. The fire and the soldiers’ attempt at escape had ironically eased the crush around Luca somewhat. Behind him there was a trail of dead and injured but there were still so many remaining who were intent on death. With one final, mighty effort the vampire kicked at a man in front of him and then leapt high, clearing the mass and releasing him from the hell. He raced into the light and out of Wood’s sight, leaving behind a wake of screaming, enraged infected, many of whom followed him out.
Many - but not all.
CHAPTER 6
Lewis and his soldiers had charged from the safety of the chapel and killed the first few assailants. Initially the fire and confusion had scattered those directly in front of them and carried them several paces clear. As both factors in their favour dwindled they were left well short of the liberty they so desperately sought. Some of the mob had been distracted by the vampire. Wood had picked off a few others but there were still many between the soldiers and freedom. As Wood’s covering fire had ceased and the vampire then made his exit, they were still surrounded and the attention of the infected, always so fickle, returned to them with gusto. They closed around the soldiers who had been forced into a huddle against a wall. As they lunged forwards the soldiers fired, one round per attacker, always a head shot. Slowly though the encircling horde got closer and closer as though regrouping warily.
Lewis looked around desperately and realised that they were not going to make it. “Back to the chapel,” he screamed. “Run!”
He fired at a middle-aged man. Then he ran, straight at the shrieking mob. The other four soldiers were right beside him. Lewis leapt at a woman, kicking out in mid-air. He caught her in the head, bowling her over. He fired at the next, killing her outright. There was no time to worry about being bitten. He just had to use speed and brute force. His momentum punched him through the ranks of the attackers and his soldiers carried that momentum behind.
Pethard was the last to retreat. He turned to shoot as the infected got close. When Lewis reached the side chapel he gave covering fire but Pethard was still a couple of paces away. The gate was wide open and the pack was enraged. They surged forwards as Pethard got to the railings, their attention focused entirely on him now. Even as he grabbed the gate, hands fixed about his arms and neck. There was no time left to get inside himself. He swung the gate as hard and fast as he could, slamming it closed as the host converged upon him. The quickest and surest way to close it was to push it from the outside. Without doing so the chapel would have been breached and they would all have perished. He looped his arms through the railings, as before, holding it tightly with his eyes shut. The mob went into a triumphant frenzy as they started to tear him apart. They scratched and bit at his back, ripping his clothes and body and pulling at his hair and neck.
“No!” Lewis screamed.
But there was absolutely nothing he could do. The four soldiers fired at the nearest attackers but there were always more, always too many. Bannister slipped his belt through the railings to secure them as they had done previously. Lewis stood right by Pethard, nothing but the bars in between them. For a second Pethard opened his eyes and his scream stopped. His face was bloody and torn. There was excruciating pain and terror in his eyes but also resignation. He stared at Lewis, imploring him.
“Please…”
Lewis took Pethard’s hand in his. He looked at Bannister who was fumbling with the belt. “Hurry.”
After an agonizing moment Bannister jumped back. “Done.”
Lewis raised his gun and fired a single round. One head-shot per person. Pethard jerked back, straight into the tearing hands of the horde and the waiting arms of his beloved angel.
Wood observed the scene as Corporal Reggie Pethard’s body was literally ripped apart by the frenzied multitude, screaming and attacking each other in their desperation to get at the flesh. The soldiers just stood and watched, helpless and inconsolable. To be forced to watch their comrade defil
ed thus was utterly wretched. All the remaining infected who were alive and mobile now turned their attention to the side chapel, the bloodshed having driven them into an even greater frenzy. They pressed up against the railings, wildly reaching inside, trying to snag the four soldiers huddled against the far wall. It was only a matter of time before the barrier collapsed inwards and there must have still been well over two dozen of them left.
Lewis rasped into his radio again. “Any more ideas?”
“How much ammo do you have left?”
“Not much. Not even two bullets each. You?”
“My rifle's empty. The Browning’s got just six rounds.”
“It’s tight but possible,” Lewis said without much hope. “We’ll just have to make every shot count. There are probably more outside the church but we don’t really have any alternative. If we stay in here they’ll break in soon and then we’re dead anyway. At least this way some of us might just make it out.”
“Wait,” Wood replied. “It’s not gonna work. You’ll all be killed. Look, I’ll come downstairs, create some noise and distract them. Hopefully enough will chase me, giving you the chance to escape.”
Bannister was nodding furiously but Lewis scowled. “No way, too risky, I can’t allow you to do that.”
“With all due respect you can’t stop me sir. If risking my life can save the four of you then it’s an obvious choice.”
“Wood, save yourself, that’s an order. We’ll just have to do the best we can.”
“Sorry sir, I’ve never really been very good at following orders. I’m coming down now so best be ready.”
“Wood stop.”
But there was no answer as Wood stood up, dropping his radio on the floor. Lewis had suspected that his troops may at some stage disobey his orders but he had never anticipated that it would be Wood. He turned now to his men one last time.
“Gentlemen, it has been an honour to serve with you. Godspeed you all, whatever fate awaits us. I hope to see each and every one of you on the other side.”
Bannister stared briefly out at the diseased. Then he took a pace to stand next to his commanding officer.
“We’re with you sir.”
Wood had one last glance over his shoulder to check exactly where all the infected were, but again, something gave him pause. From up in the choir he thought he had seen a shadow amongst the rafters. He looked hard but there was nothing, just the phantoms of his imagination, or perhaps the fear of the enormity of his impending task creating diversions in his mind. His hands were slick with sweat and his heart was thumping. He felt as though his limbs were not his own as he moved towards his destiny. Just as he was turning to go, the shadow moved again and detached itself from the rafters, dropping to the floor right behind the mob. It was the creature from the presbytery. It was the vampire who had saved them once already. It was Sebastian.
Sebastian instantly got down to business. He kicked at the person nearest to him, a woman who was trying to climb over the bodies in front of her to get to the side chapel. He kicked her just once, his foot landing hard in the centre of her back, jolting her forwards as her spine cracked. The next was a man standing beside her. Sebastian yanked him backwards and brought him down upon his knee, breaking his neck in one fluid movement. Only now did the infected start to realize that death was upon them from the rear. With screams and yells they turned and started to charge at the new threat, at first predator and now prey. Not for the first time did Wood stop still and marvel at the ruthless killing machines these vampires made. He paused only for a moment though, then quickly took up his shooting position and picked up his radio.
“I don’t know if you can see but there’s a vampire out there now, ripping up the mob. Be prepared to move.”
Another creature went under Sebastian’s boot. He was slowly retreating from the chapel as the horde greedily moved towards him, slowly enclosing him. Leaping backwards he vaulted through the air over those who had got behind him to prevent himself becoming surrounded. It worked initially but they swarmed forwards again. He was quickly encircled, battling to keep them all at bay with sweeping kicks and blows that did nothing more than knock the attackers to the floor, creating a little space and buying a little time. These diseased just did not know when to die. A man came at him from the side and took hold of his shirt. A second grappled with his legs and a third managed to get through his strikes and jumped at him from the front. He tried to leap away but he was not able to clear them and as he landed he faltered and went down. A shot sounded from the choir and the man holding his legs fell. A second shot and another collapsed and Sebastian flipped himself back to his feet. He glanced up at the choir and noticed the human watching over him. Then he twirled and planted a boot in the face of a woman with a satisfying explosion of blood.
Wood leant on the bannister watching the fight surge back and forth. The vampire was still struggling to keep from being surrounded and continually had to leap high to clear them, occasionally using the pillars or the pulpit in order to escape. Slowly the infected were falling but all too slowly, and Sebastian was tiring. As he watched with his Browning poised, Wood did not see the figure flit through the air and land just beside him. He flinched and lurched back from the railing with a gasp.
Flavia looked briefly at him over her shoulder as she perched on the balustrade. “Shhh.” She raised a slender finger to her deep, red lips and there was the faintest of smirks. She opened her eyes imperceptibly wider and as afraid and startled as he was, Wood felt a strange sensation sweep throughout his body, as of pins and needles or a warming rush of energy. Then she was gone. Leaping out into the air like an Olympic diver she summersaulted and landed beside Sebastian.
“Seems I need to save your derrière one more time, mon amour.”
“What took you so long?” For the briefest of moments they smiled at each other.
Wood watched with spellbound fascination as the vampiress twisted and turned. She lashed out and leapt high alongside Sebastian, like some kind of ferocious tango. She moved with grace and poise despite the deadly nature of what she was doing, and only now could he fully appreciate why Bannister had been so beguiled by her. She really was totally mesmerizing. Fighting back to back, Sebastian no longer had to watch behind himself and they could now concentrate on killing. The number of enemies slowly started to deplete.
“Lads, time to go,” Wood said quickly. “I suggest you get yourselves out of there pronto.”
“Roger.”
Lewis turned to his team but there were no final words to say. He looked them all briefly in the eyes, nodded and reached for the belt securing the gate. He undid it with trembling hands. Looking out it still seemed utter madness. Many diseased had perished but the church still thronged with them. To actually charge forth with extremely limited ammunition felt like nigh on suicide, but that was exactly what they had to do. Pushing the gate open he led them out. A man turned and charged at him. He got within a couple of paces before Lewis fired; one bullet between the eyes. There was no option now but to be extremely abstemious with their ammunition.
Bannister took the lead. He too shot a woman who came at him, then leapt up onto a bench. There were too many infected along the side aisle and the best way to try and avoid them seemed to be by jumping over the pews. The others followed. A youth lay beneath him on the ground, between two benches. He was severely injured but still tried to grab up at him. Rather than waste a round, it was better to avoid him. Masters and Corporal Newman both fired as more infected were attracted by the sounds of gunfire and came at them from the sides. Bannister leapt to the next bench and fired once more. Now his gun was empty so he shouted instructions at his colleagues as they edged towards the exit. The benches made it harder for the diseased to get at their prey but also made it slow progress for the soldiers. Lewis brought up the rear and fired now, his last bullet. Wood fired again and again, picking off two more.
“Run!” Lewis screamed at Bannister. “Just run.”
Lewis was at the back as his troops made it to the beckoning doorway. Two infected men chased after him. A woman lay on the floor, apparently dead, but as he jumped over her she twitched and grabbed at his foot. He did not fall completely but it was enough to unbalance him and he clattered into a bench. The nearest of the infected shrieked with delight as his prey came within reach. Sebastian was closer and moved first. He jumped and landed a yard away, striking out at the man, sending him tumbling. He took hold of the second but did not notice another crawling beneath the pews. A hand reached out and grasped his leg and the diseased hauled himself up, about to bite. Flavia reacted instantly. She threw herself through the air with a cry of rage and landed on the man, killing him outright. She turned to check on Sebastian but did not notice the original woman who had toppled Lewis. The woman grabbed her ankle. She was momentarily distracted for a vital second and did not see another coming at her from behind. The man landed on her back, sinking his teeth into her neck. She screamed and clutched at him, hauling him off and casting him down upon a pew, shattering his spine. In fury she lashed out, stamping down again and again on his head and torso. With each blow she released a fearsome scream, the most terrible wailing noise.
The Blood of the Infected (Book 3): Twice Bitten, Twice Die Page 9
