Night of the Nazi Zombies

by Michael G. Thomas

  “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.

  “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 bef
ore, 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.

  “Maybe,” answered an unconvinced Chard, he moved up close to Martinez and whispered into his ear, “can you hear me?”

  Martinez groaned, turning towards the medic. Chard listened intently; with a couple of sighs the injured Martinez appeared to pass out. He certainly wasn’t dead as his chest was still moving up and down, albeit very irregularly now.

  “What did he say?” asked Lieutenant Harvey.

  “He said he could hear his heart in his ears, or something like that.”

  The men stood around the wounded soldier, confused at what was going on. The old man said something more to the two girls and then joined the officers at the altar. He looked at Martinez and then spoke to Lieutenant Harvey.

  “Yes, I have seen this before, it is not good.”

  Martinez started to shake, his voice was slurred and blood started to drip from his mouth. His face was now pale and his eyes appear liked black glass. Martinez rolled first one side and then to the other. He started to cough. Chard shouted to the men, “Hold him!”

  Harvey and Smith moved towards the wounded man, grabbing his arms and holding him down. Humphreys, who until now had been propped up against the altar, hobbled over and helped hold him down also. The coughing got worse and with each spasm more blood poured from his mouth. Humphreys went to wipe the blood away but was stopped by the surprisingly strong arm of M. Poulain.

  “No, do not touch the blood,” said the Frenchman.

  Martinez shook once more and then with one final cough he stopped moving. Chard looked closely at his face, it was lifeless. Carefully opening his eyelid revealed a strange, hazy blackness to them, not the eyes of a normal man. The two officers released their hold on the now dead Martinez. Captain Scott looked confused.

  “I don’t understand, I thought the wounds were superficial, why did he start shaking like that?”

  Lieutenant Harvey looked to the Frenchman. “Monsieur Poulain, you seem to have an idea what is going on, perhaps you could enlighten us?”

  The old man nodded in agreement, moving closer to the officers.

  “Yes, I have seen this before. Two nights ago one of the old men from the village was bitten by something in the forest. I didn’t see him until yesterday when I went to visit him at his farm outside the village. When I got there I found his wife dead and he looked like your man here,” he pointed at Martinez, “I think the Germans are using a poison like to turn people into animals.”

  Captain Scott looked unconvinced.

  “You’re saying those people outside attacked us because of some chemical weapon? Bullshit!”

  Chard put a sheet over the body of Martinez that was still lying on the altar, whilst the men continued their discussion.

  The old man ignored the American and continued.

  “When I was in the army in the war we came across many different types of chemicals. Some burnt out throats, others our eyes, some even made the soldiers got a little crazy,” he gestured with his hand around his ear as if to say they were mad.

  Sergeant Smith added his own thoughts. “This may be true, what I don’t understand though is how these things are able to keep going even when we’ve put half a dozen rounds into their chests.”

  Out of the corner of Captain Scott’s eye he could see movement behind Smith, from where the Martinez’ body was. As Smith was talking he could see the Captain’s eyes looking at something behind him. He turned his head slightly. “What?” he asked.

  The Captain pointed at the altar, Smith turned and the others followed suit. Incredibly Martinez was sitting up but the sheet still covered him. Smith muttered, “What the hell,” and made towards the body.

  Lieutenant Harvey was closer and reached out to pull off the sheet. Smith stopped moving towards the body as he was distracted by the oozing black, congealed blood dropping off the altar and down onto the floor.

  “Uh Sir, don’t do that,” he called out but too late.r />
  Harvey had pulled the sheet to reveal the full horror. Martinez may have lifted himself up but he certainly wasn’t alive, not in the traditional sense. His composure was of the recently deceased and his eyes and face were expressionless. His mouth was wide open and revealed his teeth that were already dripping in some kind of foul, dark blood or gore. Martinez leaned towards the Lieutenant and grabbed him across the upper body. Chard rushed forwards only to be struck by the left arm of Martinez; the strike was surprisingly strong and knocked the soldier back several feet. With a thrusting motion Martinez’ head pushed forwards and he sank his jaws deep into the British officer’s neck. Lieutenant Harvey cried out in pain. Captain Scott already had his pistol out from its holster and fired off three rounds from the hip, two of which struck Martinez in the chest. The third bullet embedded itself into the stonework behind the altar. Captain Scott shouted out, “Everybody back!”

  Lieutenant Harvey, with a mighty push managed to knock Martinez back and then stumbled backwards, finally collapsing onto the floor. A torrent of blood gushed from his throat, he had but seconds to live. Smith grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the altar. Chard knelt down to the mortally wounded officer whilst Smith pulled out Harvey’s pistol and trained it on the figure of Martinez.

  “Look at him,” said Captain Scott.

  They all looked at the creature with a mixture of fear and shock. Martinez was pulling himself off the altar and dropped down onto the floor. Without hesitation he lifted himself up slowly and looked towards the soldiers. His body was slumped and the gore continued to drip from his mouth. Private Lewis and Wilks took up positions around the wounded officer, both with their weapons cocked and ready.

  Smith called to the creature, “Martinez, can you hear me?”

  It simply looked at them with its lifeless eyes. It moved its head, looking at each of the men, showing no sign of recognition to any of them. Without warning it wailed, the same sound they had heard in their defence of the church wall previously. The thing made to move towards the group with its mouth open and threatening.