Europe Has Fallen

by Gouriet, Andrew

  Captain Hayward drew his revolver, but was aware that noise seemed to attract their attention. He had the element of surprise, so as it closed in on the animal he moved forward and kicked it to the ground. He then withdrew his sword and plunged it into the creature’s head. He wasted no time mounting the horse and riding towards the church.

  The journey was littered with despair. People were running from building to building; some were thieves taking plunder where they could, not truly comprehending the situation and the consequences of their decisions; others were people who had left it too late and were confused about where to go.

  The captain could not help. He had to reach the church, even if that meant passing flesh-eaters feeding on corpses. His gut instinct was to attack them, but he had to be wise and keep moving. Every narrow street had to be avoided – the risk was too great. His heart was pounding as he reflected on his family.

  Smoke was drifting out of apartment blocks. A French soldier came out of a doorway and looked at the captain. He did not speak or express any emotion; his eyes just followed the captain’s until he was out of sight. Captain Hayward had to take a detour as a collection of priests and Northern riders passed him two junctions in ahead. He thought one of them looked like a female priest but he could not be sure.

  This thought was taken away from him as he was knocked from his horse. His body hit the ground hard and it took him a couple of seconds to re-gather his composure. As he did so a large wolf pounced on him. Its teeth ripped into his helmet and swung him around like a rag doll. He tried in vain to reach his revolver only for it to slip from his holster and be kicked away by his trailing left foot.

  With a paw on each shoulder the wolf lowered its giant head and opened its mouth. The teeth were sharp and its breath foul. Saliva dripped onto the captain’s face and ran down his chin. Thud. The creature fell on top of him, its weight pinning him to the ground. He had no idea who had shot the beast, but he was grateful as he fought hard to roll it off.

  His horse had not strayed far and the captain was able to remount and continue. The city was now probably the most dangerous place in France. Its streets were overrun by the enemy and the creatures spearheading this war were taking their victims in a ruthless fashion.

  The captain approached the road towards the church with anxiety and excitement. As he got closer he could see a small group of people gathered around. From a distance they looked like women and children. He spurred his horse on and quickened his pace. To his dismay the road had been barricaded with high iron gates. These gates had been wrapped with broken glass and nails. He scoured the sides of the walls. There were no entrance points or windows to climb. He thought about standing on his horse and trying to climb over, but these gates had been made with one purpose and that was to keep people out. He would need explosives to clear his way through.

  He could see across to the other roads leading in the open square where the church was situated and they had been blocked in the same way.

  There was only one clear route to the far left of the church which was not blocked, but it would mean negotiating his way back to another crossing which could ten minutes or more. His eyes fell upon the most glorious sight: Emily. Her hair had been made into a French plait and she was holding her teddy bear.

  “Rebecca! Emily! Arthur!”

  He shouted as loud as he could.

  All three of them came forward and saw Charles standing on the outside of the blockade.

  “Daddy!”

  They ran towards him at full speed. Emily dropped her teddy but seeing her father was more important and she kept running. Rebecca had tears in her eyes, as did Charles.

  “My sweet wife and children. Thank God you’re alive.”

  Tears flowed from all of them and Rebecca could not hide her excitement. “Charles, I knew we would see you again, I just knew it.”

  He put his arm through the iron railings and his family snuggled into it. He was able to kiss his wife through the gap, avoiding the glass and nails. The children then wanted a kiss as well.

  “We don’t have much time. I need to get you out of Paris.”

  Their euphoria was broken by the sound of a horn being blown and then a shout burst through the open air.

  “They’re here!” screamed a woman by the church.

  The flesh-eaters were coming along the unblockaded road. A couple of French soldiers tried in vain to halt them and were quickly overrun and set upon in a frenzied feeding attack.

  The fear in the children’s eyes turned Charles’s stomach. “I must get you over.” He started to climb the iron gates, but it had also been oiled, making it virtually impossible. Blood streamed from his hands.

  “Daddy, they’re coming.”

  Panic had now fully set in. He searched everywhere around him. In his mind there had to be a way.

  “Rebecca, get yourself and the children inside the church.”

  She looked at him with a sorrowful face.

  “We’ve tried but all the doors are locked.”

  Arthur came forward.

  “I don’t want to die, Daddy.”

  Charles fell to his knees. He couldn’t stop himself; he cried uncontrollably. Reaching through the iron gates he pulled his family in close. They held each other for a moment.

  “I love you, Charles and I always will.”

  “Becky, I love…I love all of you.”

  Their tearful faces looked upon their father’s and they smiled.

  “Go, Charles. You must not witness this.”

  “I cannot and I will not leave.” With that he reached for his revolver and placed it to his head.

  “We shall all go together.”

  The flesh-eaters were closing in. Their groans and grunting sounds became clearer the closer they came. The people who had been outside the church were desperately banging on its doors.

  His eyes scanned his wife and children for the last time. He had decided that at the moment the creatures struck, he would pull the trigger.

  Through the noise and sheer haze in his mind, he heard a voice. “Madam, Madam!”

  He opened his eyes and saw an old woman standing halfway out of a cellar door. The remaining people were funnelling down into the cellar. She called over for Rebecca and the children to come.

  “Rebecca, go now. I’ll cover you and the children.”

  They let go of their father just as the flesh-eaters closed in. Charles turned the revolver on the first creature nearest to his family, took aim and squeezed the trigger. The body fell to the ground from a clean head shot. Another came into his sight and again he dispatched it with aplomb.

  Rebecca had Emily and Arthur on each hand. She darted towards the woman who was waiting patiently at the cellar entrance. This was very brave as flesh-eaters were closing in. He squeezed the trigger two more times, killing two more creatures in the process. Emily was handed to the woman first and was passed down into the cellar, then, as Arthur was picked, up a flesh-eater stumbled from an unsighted part of the church.

  The angle was not good for Charles to risk taking a shot with his wife and son there. The flesh-eater grabbed Arthur’s leg and lowered its face to bite.

  Rebecca lashed out with a kick and pushed the creature back. She passed Arthur to the woman and then returned to give the flesh-eater a good punch in the face. This stopped it for only a moment, but it was enough for Charles to take aim and shoot the beast in the head.

  Rebecca looked over quickly and blew a kiss before disappearing into the cellar. The doors were promptly shut after her.

  Charles fell to his knees. He was shaking and not fully in control. The flesh-eaters tried in vain to reach him through the iron gates, their arms stretching through, not feeling the glass cutting their rotting flesh.

  The next voice he heard made him spin around with his revolver drawn.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  It was Corporal Heinz.

  “What are you doing here? Where’s the sergeant?”

/>   “He’s coming. We could not leave you in Paris alone. We’ve come too far.”

  Corporal Heinz could see the captain was an emotional wreck, but held fire on asking any questions. He did not know his family had escaped into the cellar in the church. Instead he advised him to leave with him and regroup with the sergeant.

  “I must find another way to the church. They’re in there, underground,” said the Captain anxiously.

  Sergeant Butcher was waiting at a nearby junction. He had his rifle drawn and was reloading it as the other men approached. “Quickly, Northern riders are in this vicinity,” explained the Sergeant. The corporal led the way. He believed he knew another route to the church. Unfortunately, though, that route was blocked, making them turn around and head for a bridge over a small stream.

  When they came to that area the sight that greeted them was a constant flow of priests and drone cavalry. The high priestess could be seen leading her troops. The wolves were circling and flesh-eaters were filling the streets.

  “We can’t go this way, Captain,” the Sergeant said softly.

  The captain was agitated. He was not thinking clearly.

  “I’ve got to get to them. They’re my family.”

  The other two men agreed, but knew not how to help. Corporal Heinz then remembered that a lot of the churches had underground passages. It was possible they even entered the catacombs. He went on to add that these were the old stone mines under Paris.

  The captain sat on his horse, pondering what to do. His soul wanted to charge into the street and ride to the church, but he realized his family might no longer be there and could very well be heading underground and out of Paris. It was an impossible situation; he did not know what to do. The noise of gunfire broke out close by. The enemy was closing in fast.

  “Gentlemen, I will ride with you to Caen. From there you can go on to Cherbourg,” Said Captain Hayward.

  His intentions were clear. Once he left his men at Caen, he would scour the various ports of France for as long as he could.

  With that, the men turned their horses and broke out of Paris at speed. The last of the city was being surrounded. Small pockets of soldiers were fighting a losing battle against overwhelming odds.

  Chapter 30

  The journey to Caen was long and arduous. They camped twice in small thickets and woodlands along the route. Bridges had been destroyed, adding time and costing them extra energy to get around them. They stayed away from all the villages and towns – nothing could be trusted now.

  Bodies littered the route. Some were wounded soldiers who had perished on the retreat; others were sick or malnourished civilians. It was a mixture of old and young – they could not look at any children lying by the road. Each man kept his sorrow to himself and grieved in silence.

  When they finally reached the outskirts of Caen, a small group of marines emerged from a dilapidated farmhouse. A Lieutenant Hazewater was in charge and he was quick to point out it was chaos along the whole coast. Ships were coming backwards and forwards trying to rescue as many as possible. He admitted that soldiers were getting first priority and civilians had to wait.

  “My wife and children are amongst those civilians, Lieutenant.”

  He looked a little awkward. “They will do their best for everyone. This evacuation is on a scale like no other. We simple don’t have the resources.”

  The captain softened his stance. “My men here need to get to Cherbourg and retreat with their unit. I will be staying in France as long as I can to search for my family.”

  The marine looked at him. “You do realise you might not make it out? The enemy is already attacking along the coast. They have moved like lightning, their forces un-stoppable.”

  He stopped short of shrugging his shoulders. He explained they were going to leave soon, but were merely mopping up stragglers and taking out enemy scouts.

  Captain Hayward wasted no time in wishing Sergeant Butcher and Corporal Heinz all the best for the future. Both soldiers insisted they could stay with him, but he said they had to return and would fight another day to avenge the atrocities of this war. The formalities went out the window and the both men hugged the captain. Lieutenant Hazewater made no comment. He understood this was a grave time for all and that dark days lay ahead.

  The sun was slowly setting. Captain Hayward remounted and galloped towards Mont Saint-Michel. He had been told by the Lieutenant that this had been a destination from Paris for civilians, although the French coast was vast. There were rumours that Jersey was being used as a staging post to Britain. He would wait there first before moving on to Saint-Malo.

  The French countryside was in full bloom. The fields carried a sweet freshness as the summer drew to an end. The birds and insects still seemed happy to occupy their day with normality. He questioned how Mother Nature had not sent a storm to destroy this abomination. He was a churchgoing man, but questioned the ideal around such an uprising. Had the Devil gained a foothold on the land and was now taking the souls he so desired?

  When he thought about his family, his heart sank. He didn’t know what he would do without them. His hand swept over the revolver. In fairness, he did know.

  He rested that night in a small barn with livestock hanging around looking unmanaged and a little lost. He found a stream in the morning to wash and drink from. He had a little food with him and scoffed it down for energy, forgetting the staleness of it.

  He then made sure the horse drank and petted it as it did so. He appreciated the animal had saved his life on many occasion.

  Together they arrived outside the causeway leading to Mont Saint-Michel. It was tidal and he remembered reading as a boy the sea could come in faster than a galloping horse. A slight sea mist swept across the mudflats. Tufts of grass swayed, catching the eye of the captain and his horse. He looked over at Mont Saint-Michel. It was an enchanting abbey and town. He wished his family were with him now. He also hoped they had made it to a port on the coast.

  He turned the horse and moved towards the abbey. Coming towards him was a small group of riders in an aggressive formation. Once close enough, they relaxed their stance. They could see he was a British soldier.

  “Monsieur! Monsieur! We need your assistance. The enemy is arriving and we must hold the causeway until the tide comes in.”

  The captain looked on but his heart and mind were in another place.

  “My wife and children, I must find them.”

  “We have accepted many British families into the abbey and many have left for Jersey and Britain. They could very well be in there.”

  The captain looked up to the skies. He had no idea whether they would say anything to gain support in this dark hour, but if they were telling the truth the castle had to be defended. He agreed to help.

  “How long until the tide comes in?”

  “We have half an hour.”

  In the distance a long-limb emerged on a sand dune. It raised itself up and sniffed the air, then let out a bellowing croaking sound.

  There was a small hill to the left of the causeway and, slowly but surely, Northern riders started to appear. Priests arrived on the other side with drone cavalry.

  “Shock troopers,” called out one of the soldiers.

  Captain Hayward turned to the men.

  “May God have mercy on our souls,” the captain calmly said.

  They numbered fifteen. The captain looked at this small band of broken men. Some were older than his father; others barely older than his son. They did not have an officer with them, which probably meant there were few defences in the castle.

  “Time is against us here. They must not reach the castle. We must stop them,”

  More long-limbs came to the front and were joined by wolves. Captain Hayward shook his head, then looked away for a moment and smiled. This was just madness. What had happened to Europe and its people? Why so much death? He looked at the picture of Rebecca and the children and placed it back in his tunic.

  “Stay close
to me, men. Let them come onto the causeway. We’ll charge them and then retreat. Just maybe this will give us enough time.”

  The men and young boys lined their horses together. Almost four abreast. The captain could see one of the young lads shaking. He made sure he got eye contact and winked. The boy smiled.

  “Wait for the whites of their eyes and listen to my command.”

  He withdrew his sword.

  They could hear the laughter coming from the priests as the Northern riders and drone cavalry entered onto the causeway. The wolves and long-limbs began to cross the mudflats.

  “Wait, wait...Charge!”

  The enemy was tightly packed coming forward and was not expecting an assault. The captain had put the grown men alongside him and in the second row, the younger lads followed with spears. The attack caught the Northern riders off guard and broke their lines. The captain saw his wife and children in his mind’s eye. It gave him the strength he needed as he faced death. The horses gathered speed and they met the enemy head-on. His sword connected with a drone cavalryman as he came forward. He then swiftly brought the blade around again to slice at a Northern rider. The ferociousness of his attack inspired the others and they fought like wounded lions. They were outnumbered but kept on fighting. Tragically, one by one they were being picked off, but no one wanted to retreat. It was a fight to the death.

  On seeing a small boy lying on the track, the captain let out a call to the heavens. He was grappling with two drone cavalrymen at the time, pushing one off the causeway and taking the head off the other. He shouted for the men to retreat, but there were only four of them left.

  The captain grabbed the ailing boy’s body and remounted his horse. Something smacked into his back. The pain was intense but his adrenaline carried him on.

  They retreated towards the abbey whilst being pursued. Fortune was on their side that day, however, as the tidal prediction had been slightly out. The sea was starting to come in. The speed of the water filling the mudflats meant the creatures were caught in two minds on what to do. Some of them had already pressed far out onto the flats, while others tried to access the edge of the track. The priests started to push them forward, but the causeway was congested.