by C. M. Harald
The understrength battalion broke from the road and entered a loose skirmishing formation as it headed towards the village. Wells' squad was kept in the centre of the line, in reserve so that Wells and Marsh could be moved to where ever they were required. There was a general suspicion from the officers, and NCOs, regarding the naming of to two soldiers in the orders that had been received. Quite a few questions had been asked, but neither soldier had given away anything more than had already been said.
'It's quiet.' Morgan said.
'What do you expect, it's a tiny little village. Probably more sheep than villagers.' Sergeant Scott replied.
'At least we're well behind the front line.' Morgan said, 'Not many pesky Hun machine guns around here.
'Keep on your toes men.' The captain, temporarily in charge of the battalion shouted, 'Wells, take your squad into the centre of the village and check the place out, we'll stand ready out here at the edge.'
The village was untouched in any obvious way, the front line having not pass through the area. There were no fields ploughed up by artillery, the buildings were still intact and there were no marauding soldiers liberating supplies or billeted on the locals. The squad moved cautiously into the village, rifles ready, each man staying close to whatever cover offered itself at the end of the road. There was an unnatural silence, no human noises, no animals, not even birds.
'It's like a ghost town.' Wells said to Marsh, who was by his side, behind a water trough at the beginning of the village, 'Taff. Davies. Check that building on the left.' Wells ordered.
The two men ran up to the first building, a small single floor home. They peaked cautiously in the windows before forcing the door and charging in. Within a minute, they were back on the narrow street.
'Clear Corporal.' Davies shouted. They had minimal training in house-to-house fighting, but they had worked out some basic tactics on the way to the village.
'Next building then.'
The squad proceeded towards the centre of the village, checking each building one by one, the rest of their diminished platoon joining in the task. There was no-one to be seen anywhere. Only a few buildings remained in their search, including a bakery and the small church. As they closed in on the remaining buildings the whole battalion, all one hundred of them deployed behind them, ready to deal with any trouble.
'Smells like something died in here.' Taff said loudly before opening the door to the church.
'Stop!' Marsh shouted, but it was too late.
'What the fuck!' Taff was backing away from the open doorway, almost dropping his rifle. His footing slipped as he stood awkwardly on a cobblestone.
An inhuman, animal, noise was coming from the open doorway and within seconds the villagers appeared. The battalion had not been told what to expect, and despite the guarded guidance given by Wells and Marsh, panicked looks spread among the soldiers as the civilians ran towards them. The movements of the villagers were unnatural and awkward, some shuffled, some ran, many limped. Several appeared to have horrific wounds, chunks missing from flesh, exposed bones, especially on limbs. One teenage girl, beautifully in the flush of youth, had part of her face missing, the jawbone exposed.
'Shit!' Shouted the Lewis gunner, who immediately fired an uncontrolled burst into the growing crowd. The recoil kicked the machine gun up and most of the bullets missed, flying over the top of the villagers and burying themselves in the stonework above the doorway. However, a few bullets found their mark, with five villagers knocked to the ground as the bullets smacked into their torsos. Rifles joined in from all around, especially as they saw the villagers floored, by the first machine gun volley, getting up again.
The Lewis gunner exhausted his ammunition and hurriedly started to change the disc. Before he had completed the attachment of the new one, the first villagers were upon him. They knocked him to the floor, tearing and biting as the man screamed in agony. The crescendo of rifle fire reached a peak, but only a few of the villagers stayed down upon being hit. The majority got back up to continue their attacks. Marsh watched as one middle-aged woman charged down a rifleman. Three times he shot her, three times she fell to the floor and got back up again, after the first hit she started to limp, but that did not slow her down enough. Soon she was upon the soldier, tearing and clawing.
Marsh came to his wits and started firing, aiming at the head of his target. One shot and the villager dropped, not arising again. He had been so busy watching the horror, that he had forgotten the remind everyone of the key piece of advice he had been given for dealing with the creatures, 'Aim for the heads!' Marsh shouted above the noise, but to no avail, he could not be heard.
The Lewis gunner had been left by the horde. His crumpled form started to arise, immense damage having been done to his exposed hands, face and neck. Blood was still pouring from a neck wound, damaged neck ligaments leaving his head lopsided as he turned to face a soldier outside the bakery. The soldier panicked and started firing at his former compatriot, but in seconds the Lewis gunner was upon him, biting and tearing.
'We've got to get out of here.' Wells shouted over the noise, 'We're being overrun by these things.'
'Zombies, that's what the Colonel called them.' Marsh shouted back as he loaded a fresh clip into his magazine.
'Fall back to the edge of the village.' The Captain shouted, several NCOs echoing him.
It was not so much a withdrawal as a rout. The understrength unit was now down to half the size it had been prior to the opening of the church. Several soldiers had been overwhelmed by the villagers, more than one quickly rising to join the ranks of the zombies. A few of the zombies were no longer moving, having been on the receiving end of severe injuries to the head during the melee.
Marsh looked up while again loading his rifle, five villagers were bearing down on him and Wells. Wells had his rifle up, but was missing the heads of his targets as often as hitting them. Two of the civilians dropped to the ground. The remaining three leapt at Marsh, who used his rifle as a barrier to keep them at a distance. He had not even had time to fit his bayonet, not that it would have been of much use since it was more effective against flesh than a bony skull. The three pushed Marsh to the ground, the one on top of him held off his face by the rifle across his chest, a rotten smell coming from the snapping mouth. In a moment of abstract lucidity, Marsh realised the villager was not breathing. The corpse was cold. It was animated death, just as Colonel Hudson had described it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wells' rifle butt repeatedly coming down on the head of one of his assailants.
'Stop!' Marsh shouted in the desperate frustration of the struggle. He used all his strength to push the zombie off him. The zombie stopped, relaxed and Marsh pushed it aside.
'What did you do?' Wells asked, rifle pointed at the two zombies on the floor by Marsh. Both were passive, 'Why aren't they attacking?'
'Don't know.' Marsh replied, 'They're still attacking elsewhere.'
The two villagers stood up, but did not move to attack. They occasionally snapped the air, as if sensing prey nearby and were clearly aware of both Wells and Marsh, but were not bothered by the proximity of the living flesh.
'You shouted stop and they stopped?' Wells looked at his friend as the thought formed, 'Tell them to move over there.' He indicated a doorway.
'Go there.' Marsh said to the zombies, pointing at the doorway. They shuffled over without any complaint.
'We're on to something.' Wells said. Turning to the zombies he said, 'Sit down and stay.' They ignored him. Wells looked at Marsh as if to say, you try.
'Sit down. Stay.' Marsh commanded. The zombies sat down, not moving from the spot.
'Let's go and see if we can get the rest of this under control.' Wells said, still not trusting the compliance of their assailants, his rifle warily covering the passive zombies.
The remains of the unit were trying to form an old fashioned infantry square. It was ideal for holding off attackers from different sides, but no longer part of mi
litary training. Clearly an 'old hand' among them had come up with the idea in a moment of desperation. They were losing, about to be over-run, down to less than forty soldiers. Facing them were over one hundred villagers and former infantrymen. Three sides of the square were under attack, and the soldiers had begun to adjust to the idea of shooting the enemy in the head. However, that degree of accuracy required control under pressure, while the close quarters fighting that they had been trained for, with bayonet, was not as effective as with normal flesh and blood.
'Josh, cover me. I'm going to get close enough for most of them to hear my voice.' Marsh said before running up behind the line of zombies attacking one side of the square. He desperately hoped he would not be hit by the stray bullets of his own side.
'Sit down!' He shouted.
Immediately all the zombies within earshot started to sit down. At the same time, they ceased their attacks. That did not stop the soldiers from taking advantage of the changed situation, quickly shooting each zombie in the head. Marsh ran into the square, quickly issuing the same command on the other two assailed sides of the position. The result was the same, the zombies ceased attacking, sat down and then were put down by the soldiers.
As the soldiers checked over the inanimate corpses, the Captain, and Sergeant Scott, rushed over to Marsh.
'What the hell was all this about Marsh?' Scott said, 'And none of your "I can't tell you Sarge."'
'They're called zombies by the French. Division have reported small numbers in our sector and they've got a Colonel Hudson of the Medical Corps working on it. Wells and I came across one in the middle of no-man's-land and took it back for medical aid. That's when we met Hudson, who swore us to secrecy.'
'Well if you had told us what we were up against and that you can command them, then we would not have had so many casualties.' The captain spat on the floor in disgust.
'Sir, he didn't know.' Wells interrupted.
'Know what Corporal?' The officer replied.
'Know that they would do what he told them.' Wells explained.
'Yes sir, it's something I had no idea about.' Marsh thought, 'Although now I think about it, it makes sense. The guy we took back from no-mans-land; he was doing what I was telling him to do.'
'That must be why the Colonel took a special interest in us then.' Wells took over, 'He was suspicious about why the zombie was behaving so passively. He must have suspected that one of us did something to it.'
'But we didn't do anything?'
'Yes Marsh, you did.' Wells explained, 'You told it to stop, so it stopped. Again today you told them to stop and they did.'
'Well it's a shame we've killed them all then.' Scott said with something of a sarcastic tone, 'I'm sure the Brass would have loved to have seen you ordering a bunch of these killers around.' The Captain nodded his agreement with Scott's assessment.
'May still be able to do it.' Wells volunteered.
'What do you mean Corporal?' The Captain asked.
'Before we came over here we got cornered. Josh told a couple of zombies to stay and they did. I bet they're still there now.' Wells sounded optimistic, 'We kind of forgot about them during all the excitement.'
'Go fetch them Marsh.' The Captain ordered, 'Wells go with him and Scott, make sure our lads hold their fire, but keep watch. We don't want another round like the last one.'
They ran over to where they had left the two zombies sitting in a doorway, skipping over the corpses of soldier and civilian alike. Marsh could hear Scott commanding the rest of the troops to stand ready, but reminding them to hold their fire, a boot in the arse being one of the lesser consequences of disobedience. Marsh really did not want to get shot by his own side, especially now the fighting, in the village, was over. At least he hoped the fighting was over, there could still be other zombies hidden in places that had not yet been searched.
'Coming out Sir!' Wells shouted.
'Stand and walk into the open.' Marsh commanded.
The two zombies were still sat in the doorway where they had been left before Marsh and Wells had gone to the rescue of the remainder of the battalion. At a command, they stood and walked into the middle of the street. Clearly it was not just words such as 'stop' that worked on them. The moving corpses made no aggressive move toward either Wells or Marsh, but still warily snapped at the air and made noises like groans. With a series of precise instructions, Marsh managed to move the villagers so that they were in front of the surviving troops. The soldiers were nervous and ready to react to the slightest provocation. With a flash of inspiration Marsh ordered the zombies to lie still on the ground, a position which would put the soldiers at ease.
'My God man!' The Captain exclaimed, 'They're completely under your control. We're safe and these things are doing as you tell them. Think of the possibilities man. I thought these beasts would be unstoppable and worse than the Hun to deal with.'
'We'll not get eaten?' It was Taff Morgan, and he almost sounded disappointed. He had a few scratches across his face from when he had fought hand-to-hand with a particularly unpleasant old lady.
'Not just that,' The captain answered Morgan's question as if it had been serious, 'These beings are nearly unstoppable. Machine guns and rifles barely harm them. Other than a direct hit, artillery will probably not be very effective either. If they are dead, as you say, then gas will not harm them either. But best of all, they are following instructions. This could be the decisive weapon to win us the war.'
'Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself Sir?' Marsh asked, 'We only have two of them.'
'Well I'm sure the chaps with the high foreheads can figure that out for us. What's more, we had a whole village full here and you saw what happened when they took out our men.'
That night the ragged remains of the battalion made camp a long way from other units. Marsh had been at the centre of the clearing of the village, but no more zombies, or for that matter any survivors, had been found. The original mission had been successful. The civil disruption had been repressed, and the threat to the British rear areas had been eliminated. It had been costly for the unit involved, but there had been a pleasant surprise to go along with the unpleasantness of a zombie outbreak behind the lines.
The two zombies had been bound and gagged by the unsurprisingly wary soldiers that now held them prisoner. They were kept under guard in a canvas tent while the remains of the battalion licked it's wounds. Including the walking wounded from the earlier combat against the Germans, most of whom had been returned to them during the evening, there were only seventy-two effectives in the unit, not even enough to make up a company. It seemed likely that the battalion would either be broken up to provide replacements for other units, or be withdrawn from the line for a lengthy period of rebuilding. Of course, the battalion had been significantly under strength when Marsh had joined it. Yet, even that, had not stopped higher powers from throwing it into an assault and then a policing operation.
Of his friends, only Simmonds had been so badly injured by the zombies that he had been sent off to the aid station. Sent off was a bit of a misnomer though as Colonel Hudson had turned up with an aid station as soon as they made camp. The aid station had been sited in the middle of the battalion encampment. Hudson had physically inspected every single soldier who had engaged the zombies, and those who were badly bitten and scratched, such as Simmonds had been detained for further observation. Hudson had also clapped his hands with delight as Marsh had shown off his control over the two captive zombies. The prisoners had even cooperated when Hudson had taken tissue samples from the animate dead. Hudson then proceeded to make Marsh's head spin as he investigated what was happening. There was an avalanche of questions, some of which seemed completely relevant, but others, about his relationship with his parents, much less so. Perhaps Hudson was a student of Freud, Marsh thought at one point.
For the first time, every soldier in the unit seemed to look up to Marsh. This was a completely new experience for him, used to the tolerance of
other soldiers at best, their contempt at worst. His colleagues were suspicious, as things did not seem quite right. Quite a few of them were shaken to their core by the unexpected change to their world view. However, compared to the alternative of being torn apart by a ravaging horde, Marsh was quickly becoming a talisman, rather than a person to fear. Other units stayed away, Marsh rather suspected that was due to orders, but he had heard that rumours were already spreading about how the battalion had been deployed against civilians and a whole village had subsequently turned up dead. However, rumours about the zombies had be quashed, while the positioning of military police around the encampment further ensured prying individuals were kept away.
Marsh kept playing the events of the day other in his mind. The sheer horror of the events, coupled with pace of change, had set him on edge. The kind of power that he seemed to have over the zombies astounded him. He could simply not believe what was going on. Occasionally his mind wandered to the impact these zombies could have upon the war. He could see how small groups of these zombies could drive the Germans out of the trenches, taking out impregnable fortifications that would have held up whole divisions. Of course, the enemy may be thinking about using these creatures in a similar way, and he despaired at the thought of countering such an attack.
Colonel Hudson had found Marsh once he had completed his examinations of the wounded. Taking Marsh aside, he had explained his theory.
'You see; these creatures appear to be mindless in their pursuit of living flesh to consume. They attack in a rage and are hard to stop, except for you of course.' Hudson walked around the tent smoking a cigar. He had allowed Marsh to sit, 'From the samples I took, from our mutual friend Gibson, I established that there is a bacterial component to these animate dead, a bacteria possibly, that seems to energise and animate them while cutting the element of personality and social restraint that their higher brain functions would normally provide.' He waited until Marsh nodded his head in understanding before continuing, 'Your two new samples have confirmed that there is a bacterial process and we are now testing the groundwater in the area as the bacteria appears to be as comfortable in water as in the host. We are also tracking down food supplies that may have been contaminated and be shared in common between our victims. For now, the General Staff have accepted my recommendation that the civilian exclusion zone behind the front lines be extended so that no further unfortunate incidents occur involving the local population.'