Sherlock Holmes and the Zombie Problem.indb

by Nick S. Thomas; Arthur C. Doyle

  I looked across the hallway and through an open door could see a window that overlooked the inn, when horror struck. A boy of perhaps ten years stood in my way, already a zombi, with the wicked evil eyes staring at me. This was yet another test, but logic had already taught me to not hesitate again, no matter how sick it made me feel. Looking back down the stairs the first creature was already stumbling slowly up the stairway. Aiming at its brain with my rifle I loosed off shot into the beast’s skull, sending it tumbling onto its comrades below, it would at least slow them down temporarily. I ran towards the zombi boy blocking my way and smashed my rifle down on its skull, saving ammunition and valuable time. The brain shattered and skull caved in as my stock drove down through the underdeveloped skull, it was too easy. The force drove the body of the boy to the floor, twitching, but firmly finished.

  Running to the door of a bedroom I shut it quickly behind me. It was a small room, fully made up, a large wooden wardrobe stood against the wall, it was a valuable asset in this instance. Taking hold of the wardrobe I could barely pull it due to its sturdy construction, so I shifted to the other side and put all my strength into it, sliding it in front of the door. It would at least afford me time to think and act rather than react.

  Looking around, the room had no other doors to con joining rooms, and only the one window facing onto the inn. I unlatched the window and swung it open. The groaning horde of zombis lay between the two buildings. The nearest inn window was maybe eight to ten feet away, it would be a risky jump, especially with this much equipment weighing me down. In all honesty, in my prime I could have made the jump with ease, but in the back of my mind I knew that this was a tough proposition, but it may be a choice between jumping or death.

  The door behind me rung out with what I knew to me a creature hammering on it. The noise became louder and more frequent as multiple zombis were beating on the door, who knows how long it would last. I could not go down, for that was awash with zombis, the door was barricaded, the only way was forwards.

  Stepping back to the window, I knew I could not make the jump with all of my weapons, but neither could I afford to leave them behind. Taking hold of the chest next to the bed I threw it at the window, smashing much of the glass and frame, sending debris shattering down upon the horde. I threw my rifle across into the inn, quickly followed by my sword. Peter appeared in front of me in, rifle at the ready to shoot, until he saw the situation for what it was.

  “Are the stairs still secure?” I shouted.

  “Yes, but I do not know for how long,” he replied. “Are any of you wounded in any way?” I asked. “No.”

  That was something, with so few defenders left we

  could not afford to lose anybody, nor put up with the trou blesome situation again of executions. The door cracked behind me and the wardrobe tumbled over towards me. The first two zombis fell into the room over the wardrobe. Not sparing another moment, I stepped onto the window frame and leapt towards the window of the inn, just in time to miss the grasp of my attackers.

  The jump was an ambitious one, as I had expected, but it was still the best choice available. My chest struck the sill of the window and sent a shock of pain through my body as my arms went through the frame, but they found nothing to grasp, leaving me sliding downwards. I desperately flailed to stop my decent until my hands finally found hold on the frame, but shards of glass were driven into my palms, sending agonising pains through my arms, but nothing would make me lose hold.

  Peter ran to my aid whilst I could hear the familiar and terrifying noise of the horde below and the beasts behind me crashing around in the bedroom. It was only fortunate that these creatures were not capable of jumping this sort of distance. The landlord hauled me in through the window.

  “Thank you, truly,” he said.

  I nodded and looked down at my hands, glass pro truded from them and they were scraped and bleeding. Most of my body now ached, my chest felt like it had been crushed, my skin itched with glass scrapes, and my joints were shaking, but I was there, and alive.

  “Have you got any thin cloth?” I asked.

  Peter ran off out of the room. The odd gun shot rang out below me, Peter was clearly confident that they could hold for now, and that was enough for me. It was rather practical of him to barricade the stairs rather than attempt to defend the ground floor, which would have undoubtedly fallen before I could have arrived. Slowly, I drew the glass pieces from my palms, a rather unpleasant experience. Fortunately, none of the fragments were particularly large or had penetrated far. Drawing items from bloody wounds was all too familiar for me, through the pain associated with it was rarely mine. Peter ran back into the room with white tablecloths and a pair of scissors. He quickly cut them into rough lengths and handed them to me.

  I had to wrap my wounds, both to stop the bleeding, but also to save myself from infection; both normal and zombi. At the same time, thick bindings would only restrict my hold of weapons. Thin bandages would make holding any weapons painful, but pain was eminently preferable to death. My jacket sleeves were snagged and ripped from catching on glass and broken wood, but they had served exactly the purpose desired when Holmes insisted on us keeping our jackets on. Holmes was the very reason I was now still here and alive, and I could only wish he was either still safe or victorious.

  Getting to my feet, I put my sword belt back around my waist and took my rifle in hand, following Peter to the stairway. The three patrons were there waiting, they had thrown several doors into the stairwell and weighted them down with as much furniture as they could find. It was a fairly strong barricade, providing someone kept watch over it.

  “Come with me,” I said to landlord.

  Peter was a sensible man, he evidently wanted me to take charge of the situation, but he was now going to be my right hand man, and rightly so, he was the most capable of all here. I led him to a room away from the hearing distance of the others so that we could discuss a plan in peace. Settling in the room that Holmes and I had spoken just the night before, we both sat to discuss the serious matter at hand.

  “Is the entire building surrounded?” I asked. “Yes, absolutely, my boy only got free because the horde was far fewer and we were able to cover him whilst he ran like the wind.”

  “Then we cannot run, we must choose between staying here and waiting, hoping for some relief, or fighting our way out.”

  “Will relief ever come?” asked Peter.

  “Not likely, the last soldiers we met were in as much trouble as us.”

  “Then we fight.”

  “Agreed.”

  It was nice to have a practical man to assist me.

  “Firstly, we must establish if the horde has reached a peak or if it continues to grow. Go and check in all directions, we must know if more come to the fight or not.”

  “It isn’t likely, this place has a small population, as do the surrounding villages, there cannot be many more,” he said.

  “Still, let us be certain, from these upper windows, check in all directions, see if more come to join the fight.”

  Peter rushed off, but was soon back in a matter of minutes. No more gunfire had sounded since we left the other men at the stairs, the barricade was evidently holding for now. Peter returned and sat back down.

  “A couple of stragglers, but this appears to be it,” he said.

  “What do you estimate the total number of beasts to be in and around the building?”

  “Perhaps a hundred or more,” said Peter.

  I sat for a few minutes, but it felt much longer. This was a desperate situation to be in, but sitting around waiting helped no one, not least ourselves. I needed to get to Holmes’ aid, and these people needed to have the threat to their lives removed, action was needed to solve both problems.

  “Then this is a numbers game, we have a number of weapons and a safe position to use them from, if we have more ammunition than they have numbers, the fight is ours. How much ammunition do you have?” I asked.

&n
bsp; “About thirty rounds for the rifle, maybe a similar number for the shotguns,” Peter replied.

  I took my satchel off and emptied it and my pockets onto the bed, forty eight rounds for the rifle, thirty six for the Adams.

  “Do you have the hand weapons up here?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How good a shot are you?”

  “As good as any soldier,” replied Peter.

  “Then here is the plan, exchange your shotgun for the rifle, and we will cull our attackers until we are out of ammunition. Every round will count, so take your time, only fire at static targets that you are confident of hitting, always to the head, get the rifle and meet me at the front rooms.”

  Peter went off to the stairs, whilst I took my rifle in hand and moved to the front bedrooms. I gathered up all of the ammunition I had placed on the bed and loaded it into the satchel, which I took in hand. I now wished we had tried a little harder to persuade those soldiers to join us here, for they were likely on a course of suicide in Interlaken, when they could have been a saving grace here.

  Getting to the window of a front room I laid down the satchel on the floor at the foot of the frame and swung the glass open; the mass of foes below was a disgusting site. Blood, fresh and congealed mess covered their foul jaws, still dripping onto their clothing. The sound of the window caused a number to look up at my position, I was glad to have the high ground. Taking aim at the first who looked at me, its jaw opened and eyes widened in aggression. My rifle had ten shots left in the magazine, a squeeze later it was nine, and one less beast. Footsteps rung out behind me as Peter rushed to the room, rifle in hand.

  “As I said, choose your shots carefully, we must not waste any more ammunition than necessary. Also, we must avoid shooting to the same target, therefore, you only fire at targets right of the doorway below us, whilst I will fire at those to the left. We should have enough rounds between these two rifles to clear the worst of them,” I said.

  Peter nodded and with no further ado opened a nearby window and took aim with his rifle. I observed him for just a moment, a second after shouldering the rifle he had acquired his target and fired, hitting just off centre to the skull, creating a satisfying hole in to the beast’s brain and sending it lifelessly down into the crowd. I was glad to see him control his breathing well and aim and fire in the shortest order and most efficient manner. Good, he was as capable as I had hoped.

  What ensued was a bloodthirsty butchering, one that would make any man feel sick, saved only by the knowledge of what these foul creatures were and what they would do to us. I had fired thirty four rounds and was about to reload when a shotgun rang out behind me, I turned.

  “Peter!” a man called from the stairs.

  Dropping my empty rifle to the floor I drew the two Adams guns and rushed to the stairs. As it came in sight I could see one of the men at the top of the stairs firing both barrels of his shotgun, they were both out. I reached the stairs alongside him where one beast had nearly reached the top, the barricade forced half open. I kicked the creature in the face, knocking it back to the barricade. I fired the Adams, more shots than I would have liked to use up.

  I kept firing at every target I could see, fabric parts ripping and blood spurting from various wounds. I killed perhaps four with all the rounds in my guns, whilst the further rounds at least served to hold them back.

  “Close the barricade!” I shouted.

  The four men rushed to the barricade, but new creatures were already forcing against the opening that was clogged by their dead. I dropped the Adams guns to the floor and drew my cavalry sabre, taking a few paces closer to the obstacles I drove the hilt in to the nearest beast’s face before cutting down on to its skull. Peter was forcing the battered doors of the barricade down towards the wall but a creature’s hand was firmly grasping it. I smashed the pommel down onto the beast’s fingers four times until they were broken and mangled, blood splattered across the wood, causing it to loosen its grip.

  Finally, the loose doors were again across the stairway, but the zombis were still battering their bodies against it, the defenders equally using their bodyweight to keep it in place.

  “Stay where you are, we need more objects to barricade and weight this section down.”

  The men nodded, they weren’t going anywhere anyway. I rushed around the different rooms finding anything of note that could be used, dressers, sideboards, throwing them out onto the landing. I handed as much stuff as possible to the men who put everything in place, it would do for now.

  “Peter, we need to move a bed frame over this landing.”

  I moved over to the rails that surrounded the stairway and kicked them out, much to the horror of Peter who was looking on, though he said nothing.

  “Follow me, the heaviest bed frame is in my room,” Peter said.

  We entered his room, a sturdy oak bed lay in the centre. Tipping it on its side we slid it through the doorway and out to the landing. The men were now moving out from the stairway, seeing what we were doing. We slid the heavy bed over the hole of the landing. I looked to the three men awaiting my command.

  “Now stuff everything you can through the gaps between the legs, furniture, curtains, anything!”

  “Peter, have you any more ammunition for your rifle?”

  “Sorry, but that is all,” he replied.

  “No matter, then be ready here with the shotguns and prepare any hand weapons you have, I will do what I can with the rifle.”

  I went back to the window to observe our work and continue what we had started. We had culled about half the number of creatures outside the walls, it was a good start. I had just twenty four rounds left for the SchmidtRubin, enough for two full loads. I picked up the empty rifle and quickly inserted the stripper clip. Within minutes the rifle was again empty, this time for good, the dead outside now amounted to what can only be described as a mound, with the beasts tumbling over each other’s bodies.

  I left the rifle where it was and made my way back to the landing. The four men were sat around, weapons in hand, waiting. The continuous hammering of the beasts on the barricade was ever present, with wood buckling ever so often as they smashed parts of it down.

  “What now?” Peter asked.

  “We have done what we can to reduce their number, we must now face what’s left. Let’s remove the mattress and slats from this bed and let them come. We have a solid field of fire from here; they will only be able to come through in small numbers.

  “It sounds like a solid plan,” said Peter.

  “Why let them in? We are safe here,” one of the men insisted.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “Norman.”

  “Well Norman, you can either wait here and maybe live a few more hours or days, or you can fight and perhaps help end this horrible nightmare forever. Fight for something and you may die, hide and you will definitely die, just a little later,” I said.

  The man looked down, not willing to argue the point and clearly considering what I had said.

  “Let’s get this done!” said Peter.

  The men hoisted the heavy mattress from the bed and threw it into a nearby room. Peter continued to smash the bed slats through with his empty rifle as I stood reloading my revolvers. The men looked nervous, unsurprisingly. The noise from below became louder as they broke through more and more of the barricade, getting closer to our position.

  “I fire first. We will take it turns, no one wastes ammunition!” I shouted over the noise.

  Finally, the last of the barricade caved in below us, allowing a small gap for the creatures to get through, two at a time if they were close. I fired, but this time carefully, only ever one gun at a time with well aimed shots to the brain, it was easy at this range and angle. I fired until all ten shots were gone, each one a kill, then allowing the two men with shotguns to take over, taking their turn between reloads. Bodies amassed at the base of the stairs as bodies collapsed one on top of another. The flow of
creatures slowed now as their path was blocked by their ever increasing number of dead.

  I reloaded my Adams guns but holstered them, drawing my sabre, as it was perfectly suited to this scenario, and would do a good job of saving me ammunition. The shot gunners were soon out of their ammunition, but they had played their part well, brain matter and gore decorated the ruins of the stairway, a truly disgusting sight for the owner of this fine establishment.

  A beast rose through the dead, struggling over the bodies, until it came into reach, my 1796 light cavalry sword bore down on to its brain, splitting the skull in half, instantly killing the foul creature. The flow of enemies stopped, it was fortunate, for we were all out of ammunition, save my Adams guns, which I was saving. There may be the odd straggler left, but for all intensive purposes, this battle was done and over, we were utterly victorious.

  I looked over to Peter and the other men, they were all relieved, but still in shock, staring at the gore below, it was not a pleasant sight, even for the triumphant defenders.

  “Well done gentleman, but I must now leave you, for I have a task of my own.”

  “Thank you Mr Watson, and I am so sorry to have had to call you back at such an hour,” said Peter.

  “If we are not fighting for each other’s survival, what would be the purpose to all this? I said.

  “Well, thank you again, and I am sorry we cannot give you anything to leave with, for we do not even have bullets left for our guns.”

  “I will manage. If this is the majority of the surrounding populace done for, I suggest you stay where you are, you are safer here than anywhere else. Wait here as long as your food and water will last, and with any luck, we can bring an end to this new enemy.”