Michael Thomas - Night of the Nazi Zombies

“Fuck me!” called out the relived soldier as he waved to Trent up in the tower. “I didn’t even hear it,” he muttered.

Trent gave him the thumbs up and then slipped back into the darkness of the church tower.

The small group was now at the wall and the men the other side helped manhandle the old man over the low wall and into their compound. From this position they could make out all three walls that formed the front courtyard area of the church. Each wall was manned by a few men and a knocked over mortar lay in the middle along with several bags of what looked like ammunition.

“Come with me,” said Lieutenant Harvey as he led M. Poulain into the church. Inside was as they had left it, the two wounded men, the soldiers and Madeleine and Adrienne. As they moved into the nave Adrienne spotted the old man.

“Monsieur Poulain!” she cried and lifted herself up, running over to the man. Madeleine, noticing what was going on followed closely on her heels. As the three were reunited Lieutenant Harvey walked over to Captain Scott.

“The old man could be useful; he knows something about these things that have been attacking us.”

Scott nodded, “What is it like out there now?”

Harvey started to walk backed towards M. Poulain whilst speaking to the Captain.

“It’s pretty quiet, I think we’re okay…for now,” he stopped in front of the three civilians.

Lieutenant Harvey spoke first, “Monsieur Poulain, this is Captain Scott of the American 101st Airborne Division. Could we have a word?”

The old man smiled at the American officer and held out his hand. The two shook hands.

“It is nice to see the Americans have decided to join in now.”

The American captain wasn’t too sure if he was being sarcastic, Lieutenant Harvey on the other hand new exactly what he meant and allowed himself a short smile. He turned to the girls and whispered something to them both, they gave him a last squeeze and then moved off a short distance to sit in the pews.

“First of all, are you here for the invasion we have been waiting for, or to study these animals?” he pointed out to the porch, presumably to the outside where the creatures had come from.

Captain Scott answered. “We are the first Allied soldiers in France, and more are coming. This is the beginning of the end for the Nazis.”

The old man looked nonplussed. “Perhaps, I think things are maybe different to how you thought they would be, it isn’t just soldiers in this place anymore.”

Lieutenant Harvey spoke to Scott. “I think he’s talking about the trucks he said came to this area. They apparently brought something here. Do you think they knew we would be coming to this location?”

Captain Scott frowned. “I don’t understand, we’ve heard nothing about anything unusual in this area. Are you sure this happened when the trucks came?”

“Yes,” answered M. Poulain, “I was out with my dogs when I saw them..” he mumbled for a moment, trying to find the correct word, “carrying…no, unloading large containers at the garage.”

“The garage in the village?” asked Lieutenant Harvey.

“Yes, you have seen it,” said the old man.

“How do you know that’s what started this?”

“Well, I saw one of the tucks had men on it, they weren’t from around here, and they sounded foreign, maybe Russian. I don’t know,” he moved his head as he spoke, “there was something strange about them, like they were hurt or drunk, who knows?”

“Go on,” said Captain Scott.

The old man thought for a few seconds.

“I have seen these trucks taking away people before, so I hid and watched to see what happened. Some soldiers came and forced the men into the garage. There was a lot of noise and then guns shots. The Germans came back out and left.”

Lewis was not really paying attention, he was more interested in the antique firearm the old man had been carrying. M. Poulain noticed his interest and handed it to Lewis, “Be careful, it is dangerous!” he said with a smile.

Lewis held onto the weapon, handing it with the care he might give a small child or baby. The gun was truly exceptional and something he wouldn’t expect to see on any operations. It was in mint condition, it looked as though it was brand new but that couldn’t be so. It was presumably a family heirloom and sported a folding root wood stock that itself was fine inlaid with silver wire. The detail was incredible, a work of art in itself. The barrel was inlaid with silver and brass. The blunderbuss had a belt hook so that it could be easily carried when on the move and its short barrel was fitted with a wide oval muzzle. The lock mechanism was of the more modern percussion cap variety and the hammer was pushed forward, presumably due to the fact it had recently been fired.

“What about the men they took into the garage?” asked Harvey.

“Well, I waited about half an hour and nothing happened so I went to have a look. I crossed the road and looked inside where they had taken the men. C’est le bazaar!”

“What did you find?” asked an inquisitive Harvey.

The old man looked at both the officers then back to Harvey, he leaned in close so that the girls could not hear.

“They were eating the prisoners!”

The officers recoiled in horror. Captain Scott moved closely to Harvey and spoke quietly, “Are you are we can trust this guy?”

Harvey looked at the old man. He looked well dressed, smart and completely in control of his thoughts. Harvey decided he needed more information from this man.

“Who are you Monsieur Poulain?”

“My family own a small chateaux a distance away on the road to the Orne River Bridge. We own most of the land you see here, we were farmers,” he replied.

“Were?” asked Harvey.

“Yes, were,” answered M. Poulain.

“The Germans keep taking the young men away. Both of my sons have already been sent to the military to fight the Russians. My wife died in the winter, it is just me left.”

Captain Scott continued the questioning, “Where is everybody else from the village?”

“Some of them have been attacking us, and the rest are in hiding. You arrived just in time,” M. Poulain sighed.

“What about the girls, why are they not in hiding?” said Scott. He was still not convinced.

M. Poulain looked at them and rubbed his forehead.

“They are not from the village, their family lives the other side of the wood, on the edge of the next village.”

He called to the girls, Adrienne came over and the two engaged in a conversation, in French that was way too fast for either of the officers to follow.

Whilst the discussion continued Sergeant Smith went back outside to check on the status of the unit. The whole front of the church reeked from the smell of recently used firearms. The walled area so recently defended by the soldiers was full of grubby and tired airborne soldiers. Smith called them to attention and checked the numbers. He walked along the perimeter that followed the length of the church, inspecting each man and his kit and noting details down in a small notebook, especially their ammunition and supplies. Though this current defence had been without casualties, he was appalled at the losses they had sustained since leaving England. When he finished he let the men return to their posts and re-entered the church to speak with the Lieutenant.

Back in the church Smith was greeted by the sight of a groaning Martinez, Corporal Chard was busy checking his wounds whilst Lieutenant Harvey observed.

“I don’t understand, Sir. His wounds stopped bleeding sometime ago and he seemed to be getting better, but now his heart rate is getting weaker.”

“Could it be internal bleeding?” asked the Lieutenant.