Michael Thomas - Night of the Nazi Zombies

Trent was an expert marksman and after months of training he was adept at making fine adjustments whilst keeping his eye on the target. With a twist on the scope he adjusted for distance and then took aim. The first of the creatures was just feet away from the old man, Trent slowly pulled the trigger as he exhaled. Before the final click of the trigger though the old man turned away from him and pointed something big at the creatures. Trent looked at with an amused fascination, it looked like a shotgun no, not a shotgun, something much more unusual, it was an antique blunderbuss. There was a bright flash and then all three of them vanished in a great haze of white smoke. A moment later came a loud roar that sounded like a small cannon being fired. Trent couldn’t see to lend his support; he could only hope the old man still lived. He waited, checking the surrounding area for signs of any more of the creatures. It all looked clear but still no sign of the man, he lowered the rifle, now looking at the area closer to the church until he spotted movement, there he was. Now only a short distance away the old man continued his progress towards the church. The two creatures were nowhere to be scene. Trent muttered to himself, “Crazy old man!” showing just the slightest grin at this man’s exploits.

Back in the church’s nave, Adrienne and Madeleine had been hiding in the corner of the aisle for over half an hour now. The sound of the battle continued with all manner of guns and explosions. Every now and then one of the soldiers would run inside, usually the Sergeant to make sure the building was safe. Privates Lewis and Wilks had stayed inside to protect the wounded as well as the girls. Lewis, with his Enfield rifle and loose helmet kept walking back and for in the nave. He was the most nervous of all the soldiers there and was not helping the nerves of the two girls. Wilks on the other hand was far more excitable and had piled boxes up to one of the windows so he could watch the north of the church, an area that was totally unguarded. Martinez was on his stretcher, still on the altar whilst Humphreys had lifted himself off and had propped himself against the altar so the two men could speak. Martinez was by now extremely pale, his skin had an almost translucent sheen to it.

“Hey, Humphreys isn’t it?” he asked.

The British soldier nodded in acknowledgment and shifted a bit closer to him.

“How are you feeling now? You’re not looking so grand,” he asked.

“I’ve felt better. At least the pain has stopped now. How’s the fight going?” said Martinez.

“I can’t tell from here.” He called over to Wilks, “Hey, how’s it looking out there?”

The soldier was still up on the boxes, busy watching to the north. He was quiet for a moment, obviously busy watching the unguarded fields. He spotted movement off into the distance.

“Wait, there’s a man out there!” he called out.

Humphreys lifted himself up and started moving towards him. From his position up at the window Wilks could make out the shape of the old man making his way to the church. More shapes were following in the distance.

“Shit, this is a problem.”

He climbed down from the window and headed for the porch, he called out to Lewis as he reached the door, “Watch the girls, I’ll be back.”

As Lewis opened the door the scene of the battle between the soldiers and the creatures greeted him. Literally just outside were three bodies that had made it over the wall. A short distance away was the low wall that ran three sides of the church. The soldiers were firing but not as frequently as before, it looked like they had killed most of the attackers but small groups were still heading for the wall. Every four or five seconds a crack from a rifle would signal the death of another of those monsters. Lieutenant Harvey and Sergeant Smith were talking when Lewis interrupted them.

“Sir, we’ve spotted a civilian to the north of the church.”

“Is he one of them?” Smith asked as he pointed to the few remaining creatures out in the open space.

“No, he’s been fighting them. It looks like he’s armed,” said Lewis.

“This could be the break we’ve been looking for. A local man will have local knowledge. He might be able to tell us what’s going on, even better he might be able to get us out of here,” said Captain Scott.

Lieutenant Harvey spoke, “I’ll take Smith and Lewis, the rest of you hold the line here, Captain Scott is in charge.”

Scott nodded in agreement, “Good luck, Lieutenant.”

The three men moved off to the western wall facing the churchyard and vicarage. Smith led, carrying his Sten gun out and ready for action. Harvey followed, his automatic pistol ready, Lewis brought up the rear with his Enfield No.4. After only a short run the men were at the wall and the small group of men that were defending it. With just a few short words to the defenders they leapt the wall and were out into the cemetery. It wasn’t a substantial area but was quite poorly maintained. Many of the headstones had fallen down or were chipped and damaged from the elements. Now that the principal battle was pretty much over, there was little gunfire apart from the occasional Enfield rifle knocking down another creature at long range. The three men however had seen enough of these things to make them extra cautious and they kept the church close to their left and followed it around till they were on the northern side.

“Where is he?” called out Lewis.

He was answered shortly after by Smith who had spotted the old man, no more than a hundred yards away.

“There! Come on!”

They sprinted the last few seconds till they were within speaking distance. They were greeted by the bizarre sight of the old man. He wore a tweed jacket, a dark brown hat and had a vintage, nineteenth century blunderbuss in his right hand. He sported a thick leather belt from which a gunpowder flash hung. Next to this was a military issue revolver.

Lieutenant Harvey moved closely to the man, holding out his hand. The old man gave the three men a quick glance, looking from their feet to their heads, making a mental note of their attire and equipment. As the two men shook hands the old man spoke is almost perfect English.

“Good morning gentleman. I am Monsieur Raymond Poulain.”

Sergeant Smith looked to Harvey in surprise, the officer spoke in response to the friendly greeting.

“Good morning to you, sir. I am Lieutenant Harvey of the British 6th Airborne Division.”

M. Poulain smiled, baring gleaming white teeth to the men.

“I have been waiting five years for you to come. I think you have arrived just in time,” he gave the men an almost mysterious look as he spoke.

“What do you mean?” asked Harvey.

“Have you not seen the living bodies?” said M. Poulain.

Sergeant Smith interrupted.

“You mean the ones that have been attacking us, that look like they are already dead?”

The old man said nothing, just looking at the sergeant. Smith looked a little confused until he spotted the man’s hand; he shook it and introduced himself. “Sergeant Smith, pleased to meet you, sir,” he said awkwardly.

The old man chortled to himself, perhaps at his discomfort.

“Yes, the dead ones. They appeared three days ago, just after the German trucks arrived.”

The three British soldiers looked at each other, Harvey made the decision before the conversation could go on any more.

“Will you come with us please?” he asked the old man.

He nodded and the four turned to make the return journey to the church. M. Poulain made surprising progress for a man of his age and in a matter of moments they were almost back to the perimeter wall on the western part of the church. Up to their right they could see the shape of the church tower with its highest window being occupied by Trent. For a moment Lewis thought he saw a blinking light at the window. Before he had time to move he felt something whistle past his left ear, followed by a meaty thump. Spinning around he found himself face to face with one of the creatures. It must have been crawling amongst the tombstones. The top half of its head was missing and it started to tumble backwards to the floor. The rifle report sounded, catching up with the supersonic speed of the bullet.