In the nave the situation was pretty grim. Private Wilks was losing a lot of blood from his leg wound and Chard was trying to patch him up. M. Poulain was dead and all the spare ammunition had been shared out amongst the defenders. They were now left to just Clarke, Smith and one Frenchman at the chancel. After a quick check they found they carried only four magazines between them. In the nave Captain Scott, the young French resistance fighter and Archer watched the walls whilst Chard saw to the wounded Wilks and Humphreys whose wounds seemed to be taking a turn for the worse.
In the nave Lance Sergeant Jones spoke to the civilians. This small group consisted of the German soldier, the middle-aged couple, the two girls and an old French man who was still balancing against his walking stick. Jones put his hand on the shoulder of the middle-aged man. He looked in his late forties, maybe early fifties and was in no way capable of putting up much of a fight. He spoke quickly, the French girls translating as Jones spoke.
“I need you to take them to the basement,” he waved his arms around the group.
“Get them under the ground and hide them. Do not come out till we come and get you.”
The middle-aged man nodded and taking the small group headed for the tower. The German soldier made to move but was grabbed by Jones. He started to struggle until Jones held up one of the captured Kar98K rifles to him. After a brief pause he thrust the weapon into the man’s hands. The German looked confused for a few seconds but the meaning was simple and clear. Jones pointed to the windows in the nave and then to his eyes. The German had a job and looked almost relieved as he ran to the southern wall of the nave and climbed up to the window. They now had four to defend the centre of the church.
At the church tower Harris and Gardner had taken over from Lewis on the ground floor. From their position they had an excellent view in three directions and could also provided a small amount of fire into the nave if needed. Up the staircase was Trent, still shooting from the bell tower.
Though the church had held it had sustained damaged along its walls and windows and a number of the creatures had managed to break inside, inflicting causalities on the defenders. The attrition of the combat had taken its toll and the exhausted soldiers and civilians alike needed a break, even if just for a few moments. Sadly the next wave of the creatures was now only a few minutes away and another assault was imminent. Bizarrely though, the building was almost silent just the occasional rifle shot against any of the undead if they got too close.
Through the silence each of the defenders strained their hearing for the sound of the undead finally reaching the building.
Nothing though, the place was deadly quiet, as though the creatures had vanished. Trent looked out nervously from his high vantage point. He could still see the creatures but for some reason they had stopped, each of them just stood still, almost as though they had forgotten what they were doing. Some of them kept turning and looking out to the north-west. The horizon flashed multiple times as though a massive flashgun was being triggered. With each flash the distant trees and faint outlines of buildings were silhouetted by the light. Seconds later came the crump of heavy weapons, explosions and artillery. This all pointed to an epic battle underway, perhaps this was the start of the battle for the Orne River Bridge or maybe more of their forces had run into these undead creatures. Trent called down into the nave.
“Captain, you need to see this!”
Looking back to the horizon he could see tracer fire from anti-aircraft guns reaching high into the sky. Every now and then it was just possible to spot the outlines of dark aircraft, probably delivering more Allied troops to the invasion of France. On the ground in the distance though there was definitely a battle on the go, just a matter of a few miles away. Captain Scott entered the cramped room up high in the church tower and moved towards Trent.
“What is it?” he asked.
Trent pointed to the direction of the flashes.
“Look!”
The two men surveyed the scene for a moment. More flashes erupted in the distance followed by puffs of shells exploding just a mile into the distance. Trent spoke quietly to the Captain.
“It looks like more of our forces have arrived. Can you see the anything near where the battle seems to be going on?”
Captain Scott looked intently, using his binoculars to get a better view.
“Yeah, I think I can see a few vehicles every time the flashes go off. They must be fighting near the bridge, maybe they heard you needed help?”
“I don’t think so, Sir. We lost our equipment in the crash.”
The American continued watching the horizon before turning his attention to their more immediate problem, the creatures outside.
“How many of these undead things do you think are still out there?”
Trent looked out to the south to double check.
“Hundreds, maybe thousands, Sir. I don’t know where they’re coming from now, they just seem to keep coming. Maybe they came here from one of the local towns. They’re on all sides now and I can see more coming down the road to the west and east...look!”
Trent leaned over the window ledge and pointed out to the east. The shape of the vicarage was visible in the distance and all around it seemed to be even more of the undead.
“So, we’re completely surrounded then.”
He turned from the window, looking at Trent for a moment.
“Shit!”
Sergeant Smith arrived from the chancel, wondering what was happening. The Captain briefed him with the bare minimum of words.
“It seems the second wave is arriving,” he said.
Captain Scott pointed at the light in the distance and the substantial amounts of tracer fire that blasted through the sky. Sergeant Smith swore, and then looked back inside the church.
“We don’t have enough ammunition to stop another attack. Even if those guys are ours they could take half a day to get here, assuming they aren’t stopped by these things,” he said.
Gunfire erupted to the east of the church, the sounds coming from the chancel. Smith cocked his Sten gun and moved for the stairs, speaking briefly to the Captain.
“I’ll check on Jones, he said he found something in the basement, maybe it could help.”
Captain Scott nodded and followed him downstairs. Upon entering the ground level of the tower it was clear that the gunfire wasn’t sporadic, it was time for yet another attack. Jones ran over to the two after spotting the signal from Smith. More gunfire started from the tower and also in the nave. Smith shouted to make himself heard.
“We need to fall back, can we use the basement?”
Jones considered his question for a few seconds, looking back to the entrance to the basement area.
“There’s lots of space but the only way out is through the locked gate. If we can blow it we can see where it goes.”
Before any decision could be made the blocked doorway to the south ripped open again to reveal at least twenty of the undead who staggered inside. Archer opened up with the Bren and the battle continued its bloody progress.
Captain Scott continued.
“Take what you need and get down there, we’ll hold here as long as we can.”
Jones saluted uncomfortably, forgetting for a moment that the officer was American then rushed to the ladder that led to the basement. Scott and Smith looked around, the defence was solid but for how long? Scott pointed to the chancel and Smith rushed back to his original position to assist Clarke and the French resistance fighter still fighting near the altar. Captain Scott kept himself placed firmly in the centre of the nave, he wanted to see exactly what was happening and this was the best spot. Archer had decimated the undead at the doorway but more fire was needed to stop anymore reaching the open space inside. The Captain was now out of ammunition for his rifle and dropped it so he could make use of the capture MP40 given to him earlier. Holding down the trigger the friendly clatter of its mechanism left him feeling confident, especially as one after another of t
he undead dropped to the ground. He could see movement to his left as Smith and Clarke fought a number of the undead in hand to hand combat. Another of the creatures was on top of what looked like the French resistance fighter. He aimed carefully and emptied a short bust into the creature, throwing it up against the wall. He couldn’t quite see if the young man was still alive.
Back in the tower Trent was starting to panic. He’d just used his last magazine and the number of undead seemed to be growing by the minute. Outside were hundreds and hundreds of them, all heading towards the door and windows of the church. Abandoning his position he dumped his rifle and ran down the stairs to find the desperate defenders fighting off the monsters at every wall in the church. All the windows of the tower along the ground floor were smashed and arms and heads were trying to force themselves in. Part of the stone frame around the tall windows on the north of the nave collapsed under what must have been the immense pressure of scores for the undead. Their bodies collapsed inside and on top of them followed dozens more. The northern wall had amazingly been breached and the creatures streamed in.
Chard, who until now had been treating the injured Humphreys and Wilks, turned his fire on the horde. Before they could even attempt to stand the three men were hit by the avalanche of undead. Wilks was torn apart whilst Chard leapt over the pew and grabbed at the large statue of Saint Michael, trying to get a purchase on the body to lift him up. Chard stumbled backwards towards Archer and fell flat on his back. Archer, who was still blazing away at the creatures working their way through the porch entrance of the south didn’t even notice him fall. The remaining resistance fighter stepped out in front of the retreating Chard and emptied a full magazine from the Sten gun. None of them managed to reach him but that was his last clip. Throwing the weapon down he drew out his pistol, a lightweight standard issue Pistole Revolveur Modele 1892. Popularly referred to as either the 'Lebel' or 'model d'Ordonnance' it resembled the British Webley but fired six 8mm rounds. He aimed carefully and squeezed off a couple of rounds, each once striking firmly into the bodies of the enemy.
At the altar Sergeant Smith held down one of the undead onto the heavy table. His Sten was on the ground, now empty and effectively useless. Reaching around he grabbed at his pig sticker bayonet, ripped it out and stabbed it down hard into the monster’s forehead. It stopped moving almost immediately. Clarke was the only other man left and even he was low on ammunition for his Enfield. As more undead climbed in through the windows they started to retreat to the nave. With a cry one of the things pulled at Clarke, dragging him down. He dropped his rifle but Smith grabbed it and swung it hard into the creature before it could sink its teeth into Clarke’s defenceless throat. Helping the man up they turned and ran into the hell that was the nave.
All the survivors in the church now made their desperate way to the tower. Archer, now standing kept firing as best as he could but even the Bren couldn’t stop them all. A small group of the undead blocked their line of retreat only for Humphreys and the German soldier to leap at them, striking with their weapons and clubbing them to the ground. The last of them managed to take another bite out of Humphreys who collapsed in pain to the ground. He tried to get up but another two creatures appeared and fell on him, biting and tearing at his body.
Under the church the small group of civilians cowered in fear. The sound of the battle had turned from masses of gunfire to the sounds of shouting and running. Whatever was going on it didn’t sound good. The trapdoor opened and the soldiers started throwing themselves down. The first to make it was Trent, quickly followed by Harris and then Captain Scott. More gunfire ensued as Archer covered the rest as they climbed down. His shooting saved them as his controlled accuracy made the best use of each .303 bullet. None of the undead could get close as he fired round after round into them. The last man to make it to the trapdoor was Smith who swung down inside, pulling Archer behind him.
Jones pulled the door down tight and slammed the large metal bolt across the hatch from inside. They were now in darkness, with the only light coming from the torches that the old man had lit prior to them all moving to this place. Above their heads they could hear the sound of the monsters, each one either trying to find the survivors or perhaps picking over the bodies of the wounded or dead that had been left in the church.
Jones and Smith dragged a number of the large containers over to the hatch to block it from underneath. It would help but not for long. Captain Scott headed towards the spot that Jones had described to examine the locked gate. Just as he had feared the gate and lock were incredibly strong and would not break just by hitting or pulling at them with tools.
Smith came over and examined the metal, he whispered to the officer.
“We need something more powerful for this.”
Jones, who was nearby looked lost in thought, before moving over to the tools resting against the wall. He moved back to the Captain, carrying the weapon on his shoulder.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier, this is the Panzerfaust!”
“Fuck me Jones, how could you forget that?” called out Sergeant Smith.
The German soldier, still carrying his Kar98K rifle stepped forward, holding out his arms to Jones. It was pretty obvious that he wanted to take the weapon but Jones hesitated. He looked to Smith who nodded, ever so slowly. Handing the weapon over he pointed to the gate and then ran back, shouting at the others to take cover. The German, obviously well trained in the use of the weapon, stepped back a good distance to avoid the detonation and then quickly checked his surroundings, presumably to ensure nobody was hit by the blast from the weapon’s discharge. He finally depressed the launch trigger and with a quick flash the weapon launched the projectile directly at the gate. The sound was deafening and the impact shook the foundations of the church. The entire basement filled with dust and small chunks of debris.
Without pausing Jones and Smith moved past the wrecked gate, Smith carrying the burning torch and Jones staying close with his Sten. As they left the catacombs and disappeared into the darkness Captain Scott gave the order. The civilians followed with Archer at the back, covered their rear with his Bren gun.
* * *
Inside the vicarage Steiner and the other three men had spent the last fifteen minutes getting their weapons and equipment ready. They had also been checking the area carefully for signs of the creatures. So far the majority seemed more interested in what was going on at the church. This wasn’t a problem for them as it gave them a better chance to escape than they had previously expected. Even the sounds from out in the hall had stopped, though none of them was brave enough or perhaps stupid enough to open the door to check.
Outside near the outbuildings there appeared to be a truck of some kind. Steiner hadn’t noticed it before due to the fact that the building was dark and couldn’t easily be seen from his current viewing position. Though he’d wanted to get to the church, the amount of fire coming from there didn’t fill him with confidence as to its safety. Also, the idea of climbing into a working truck and making a break for it was very, very tempting.
They had decided on a simple plan. They would leave the old house through the window and out onto the roof of the southern annex. This roof was low and they should be able to climb down whilst one of two of them stayed up high to watch for any sign of the creatures. There were a few problems, one of which was that they had no idea if the truck would start or not. Also, they didn’t know what lay to the north on the main road or even back into the village.
As Steiner worked the window, trying to open its old and stiff frame, a familiar groan came from inside the house followed by the crashing of glass. The photographer looked at Steiner and then back at the door.
“Shit, it looks like they’re back!”
Steiner grinned and continued his work.
“Seems we have two options, either we stay in this room and fight or we get out of the window and go somewhere else.”
With a crunch he freed the windo
w and slid it upwards. The blast of fresh air was refreshing and for a brief moment the men almost forgot the trouble they were in. More sounds from inside the house soon reminded them of their perilous situation. Without hesitating, Smith climbed out onto the window ledge and started moving towards the low roof. Carefully balancing himself he moved along until he reached the corner. Looking back he saw the photographer climbing out. He turned back and lowered himself carefully down to the low roof. He dropped with a thud, luckily not breaking anything though his left foot stung for a moment. He then moved to the southern edge of the roof, being extra careful to keep his body as low as possible so that he was not highlighted against the horizon. In a matter of seconds he was there and had a perfect view of the gravel drive and outbuildings near the house. The truck was resting inside the one of the shelters, more like a lean-to with a simple wall and galvanised metal roof.
Looking about he spotted no more than three of the creatures wandering aimlessly around. They must all either be at the church or inside the house. He looked back to see the photographer finish lowering himself down to the roof. The other two men were close behind, the last one having just climbed through the window. He noticed the last man failed to close the window. Whistling as discretely as he could he tried to get the attention of the man but to no avail. He was obviously way too concerned trying to make sure he didn’t fall off the ledge.
Night of the Nazi Zombies Page 16
