Michael Thomas - Night of the Nazi Zombies

“Better…now, there’s one more thing I’m not sure about,” Pierre turned the sketch around for François. “What do you make of this?” he asked.

“Strange, I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe they’ve fitted a larger main gun.”

Pierre nodded in agreement, “We need to get this information to our friends…and fast. What about the anti-aircraft gun? Is it still manned?”

Both men looked to the girls for their answer.

Adrienne answered immediately, “Yes, the gun is still in position and there are men near it at all times. I watched them three nights ago and also tonight.”

Madeleine joined in, “I was watching the farmhouse and also the yard where they keep the extra ammunition. It’s always guarded but they seem to spend most of the time drinking or sleeping. The drinking is one of the reasons why were took so long.”

Pierre looked confused, “I don’t understand. You were drinking with them? You know what I have told you about spending any time with them.”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” pleaded Madeleine.

Adrienne spoke quickly, “When we were coming back we thought we were being followed by one of those tanks, you know, the one you said is a captured one of ours.”

“Well, what happened?” asked François excitedly.

“I will if you’ll let me finish,” Adrienne answered impatiently. “The men in the tank must have been drinking because they were shouting loudly and then crashed into a wall!”

“Crashed? Are you sure?” asked Pierre.

“Yes, of course we’re sure, we’re not stupid you know!” answered Madeleine impatiently.

“They crashed, they are still there on the road and the tank is making a very strange noise.”

Pierre stepped up closely, hugging the two with his huge arms. He released them.

“You have both done extremely well, this information is exactly the kind of thing we need.” He signalled towards François.

“We need to get moving so we can pass on what is happening. We’ll meet at the drop point in twenty minutes. I’ll get the radio and weapons; you get the torches and meet us there. Okay?” he asked.

Both girls nodded and disappeared off into the night. Pierre turned back to François whilst putting the notebook in the knapsack. François was about to start walking when he was stopped by Pierre.

“François,” he spoke, “I think we should check on the crashed tank before we go any further. We need to know if they are a problem or not.”

François nodded in agreement, the two turned back along the path the girls had recently come from. They were obviously familiar with it so it took very little time for them to retrace the girls’ steps.

“What do we do if the Germans are still alive?” whispered François anxiously.

Pierre answered in a stern voice, “Under no circumstances will we have any contact with those men.”

“But what if,” answered back François.

“No! They are vicious, evil men and we will not go near them. You’ve seen what they can do,” Pierre stopped and put his hand on François’ shoulder, “do you understand?”

François nodded.

“What happens if we start trouble just because we think the British will be here soon? We could be killed before help arrives. Even worse, what if they fail?”

François look disappointed, “I just don’t want the war to be over before I can do something.”

“Look François, we’ve talked about this before. We could end up shot as spies or as members of the resistance. We must wait until the time is right,” said Pierre.

He double-checked the pathway and then spoke quietly back to François. “Come on then, we need to check on them and then meet up with the girls. We don’t have much time.”

As they left the safety of the cover they approached the gate and both kept low, almost in the same place that Madeleine and Adrienne had waited previously. The gate was a sturdy object, many years old and built of solid wood. It was chained shut and the hinges were heavily rusted, it made an excellent hiding place for them to watch from. With Pierre staying low, François lifted himself up but kept below the highest part of the gate. He looked intently at the lane.

“What can you see François?” asked Pierre.

François was silent for a moment, and then looked over to Pierre.

“I’m not sure. It looks like the tank is the one that the girls described. It’s definitely an R-35, though the turret is not like the ones I saw on parade a few years ago. Something is different.”

“What about the Germans? Where are they?” whispered Pierre.

Again, François kept quiet as he scanned the area. From their vantage point only part of the lane was visible. The tank and low wall made it difficult to ascertain what might be hidden. François described what he could see as he continued his visual search.

“I can see one man on the turret, he’s slumped over the side. It looks like his boot or shoe is stuck around a strap or something. I can’t see any movement of any kind.”

Pierre lifted himself up, leaning on the gate, now more confident in the situation. The two men continued to watch the area. Pierre spotted some movement low, near the broken wall. The two men dropped back down slowly.

“Can you see that?” asked François?

“Yes,” answered Pierre. “It’s a German soldier, it looks like he might be injured.”

François spotted more movement, this time on the other side of the tank.

“Did you see that as well?” he spoke.

“No,” answered Pierre, “what did it look like?”

“I don’t know, for a moment I thought I saw several people on the other side of the tank.” François tilted his head, “Can you hear that?”

“Yes, it sounds like somebody eating.”

Pierre looked again but couldn’t see any better than before.

“Follow me…and stay low,” whispered Pierre.

Pierre lifted himself over the gate and very slowly crossed the lane, now only forty feet from the tank and the body of the injured German. The two crept closer till they reached the low wall, just feet from where the tank had crashed. The tank, though in poor condition looked undamaged from the crash, not that it was easy to tell from the scruffy vehicle in the poor light. They kept low so that they couldn’t be seen by the man lying slumped against the wall.

“What is that?” exclaimed François.

Next to the two Frenchmen was what looked like the body of a soldier, minus its head. There was a trail of a black liquid that in the poor light looked like blood. It led to a mangled body. It seemed to have been bitten and torn apart by some savage animal. Pierre recoiled from the carnage. He’d not seen something this vile since his time at Verdun decades before. During a night patrol he and a dozen other soldiers had come across the bodies of a German unit, it looked like a single artillery barrage had wiped them all out. Every man was blasted, some with their limbs missing, others their heads and others even worse. Pierre thought that would be the last time he would see carnage like that, he was wrong.

Seeing the gore François immediately vomited, retching uncontrollably from the shock of the torn bodies. He stumbled to the tank, putting his hand on the bodywork to stop himself from falling.

“François!” called Pierre. He moved up to the man, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go, I think we’ve seen enough,” he added.

François nodded but said nothing and they went back towards the lane. Moving quickly they climbed the gate and moved off towards the trees and cover. The men moved silently, listening carefully for signs of possible survivors from the tank crash site or whatever had attacked them. François, being the younger of the two led the way, Pierre followed close behind. As they rounded a thick tree a loud shriek pierced the night. The two stopped instantly, hiding into the overgrowth and looking back in the direction of the tank.