Night of the Nazi Zombies

by Thomas, Michael G.

  Steiner was about to turn back to looking at the truck when a loud crashing sound came from the room they’d just left. In seconds an arm came through the window, quickly followed by the full torso of one of the creatures. He swore under his breath whilst he lifted the shotgun to his shoulder, taking careful aim.

  Back on the low roof the photographer was trying to help the one man down whilst the other kept moving back and for in a state of panic. Steiner called over to him to stop moving and calm down but he wouldn’t listen. More of the creatures left the window and started shambling to the low roof, now only feet from the two men trying to climb down. The first, in his haste to get down lost his grip and even though the photographer tried to help he couldn’t stop the two of them collapsing to the ground. The older man cried out in pain, his ankle twisted at an impossible angle. Steiner moved over and helped drag them both away. The last of the group refused to climb down, both terrified of the creatures and also the drop. The man lifted a pistol and aimed it at the first creature.

  “Don’t shoot, you’ll bring more of them!” Steiner shouted out.

  The old man ignored him however and with a click, cocked his pistol and aimed it directly at the head of the closest one. He fired a single shot, the bullet going wide, completely missing the creature. It was now just feet from the man who now panicked and started firing, one shot after another. Most of the bullets missed but a couple did strike the undead monster in the chest and knocked it down. The old man turned to Steiner, bizarrely pleased with his little victory. Steiner however knew this was no victory and with a single blast sent a chunk of lead pellets the short distance to the creature and right into its upper body and head. Now it was dead!

  The old man looked up from the body only to see another three of them following. He pointed his pistol for it to click, he was out of ammunition. Looking back as Steiner he stumbled to the edge, moving to jump down to the same level as the others only to trip, sending his body over the edge and then down to the gravel floor below. The fall either killed him or knocked him out. Either way it was best as in seconds a dozen creatures moved out of the darkness and started tearing at his flesh.

  Back on the roof the three survivors made short work of the three remaining creatures and then turned back to their plan.

  “We can’t go back, those things are taking over the place,” said Steiner.

  The photographer checked his pistol whilst replying.

  “If we are going to make it to the truck we’re going to need a diversion to draw them away.”

  Steiner didn’t seem impressed by this development.

  “We need to check the rest of the roof, maybe we missed something.”

  Steiner lifted himself up and moved cautiously along the roof, heading to the eastern part of the house. In the distance, slightly to his left he could see the flashes of a big battle going on. Tracer fire lit up the sky as the ground based guns poked at the aircraft overhead. He could just make out the shape of parachutes off into the distance.

  The photographer crept up to him, speaking quietly.

  “Anything?”

  “No,” replied Steiner.

  “Then we need to get out of this place,” he said, repeating his earlier train of thought.

  “What do you have in mind? If you’re thinking of one of us running about like headless chickens you can forget it!” answered Steiner.

  A loud sound, like a substantial explosion came from the direction of the church. Almost immediately came a wailing sound from the creatures outside. Each of them seemed attracted to the loud noise and one by one they started dragging their foul bodies in the direction of the church.

  “The older man spoke, “What was that?”

  “Our diversion,” replied the photographer.

  Steiner nodded in agreement.

  “Watch my back, I’m climbing down. If you see anything, whistle twice. For fuck sake don’t use your gun, I don’t want to get my balls bitten off!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Corporal Chard was the only person left alive in the Church. He’d been clinging onto the statue of Saint Michael for over ten minutes now and his heart felt like it would explode. Luckily for him the statue was larger than life and for now this meant he was out of arm’s reach, only just though. Of more concern to him though was that near the statue was an unbroken window. He could nearly reach it but behind it he could see the shadows of arms and heads. More of the creatures were trying to force their way in and when they did they would be high enough to reach him. He looked up to the face of the Archangel, noticing that the helmet seemed to be wobbling each time he tried to get a better hold on the body. The helmet must be a separate part of the statue. He looked out to the right arm and spotted the dull metal sword. Could it be metal rather than painted stone?

  The glass smashed and three pairs of arms reached for him, one grabbing around his waist, another leg. Straining his body his hand just reached the hilt of the sword. With a firm tug it pulled away, one of the stone fingers snapped off as he retrieved the weapon. It didn’t look like any sword he’d seen before. It was short, like a Roman sword and had a heavy tip, maybe a Greek design of some kind. In another time he might be able to examine it in more detail. For now though he needed to deal with the creatures coming through the window. With a deft swing of the blade it cut deeply into the first creature’s arm, cutting halfway through the forearm and severing the muscle, it went limp and useless. With his confidence returning he started hacking and slashing with abandon, hands, heads and arms being ripped off and thrown down to the sea of monsters in the nave of the church.

  Once the last of the creatures was cleared he pulled himself up into the window ledge and away from the statue. He now had a clear view to the north of the church and was surprised to see no more than a dozen of the undead staggering about. Turning back it seemed that they were all inside the church. He sat down, looking at the weapon and then to the statue of Saint Michael, remembering the stories in church of the Archangel leading the Host of God against Lucifer. He smiled for a moment before reality kicked in and he remembered he was sat on the church window, surrounded by the undead and with just a sword in his hands. Life perhaps wasn’t quite as good as he thought.

  “Bollocks!” he shouted.

  * * *

  In the dark tunnel below the graveyard the survivors of the church battle made slow progress. Led by the sergeants they had travelled probably a hundred yards before they came to their first decision, which way to go? The tunnel was obviously very old and at some point had been bricked along the walls. Time and water had eroded this and at many points the tunnel was almost totally blocked. The problem though was that they had moved into some kind of underground storage room. Though they looked around it carefully, checking with their burning torches, nothing of use could be found. Whatever the room had been used for was of no help. Of more interest though, was that the room had dark doorways along three of its sides. One led back the way they had just come from, yet the other two seemed to slip off, one straight on and the other to the left.

  Smith and Jones split up, each of them were moving the short distance through the new tunnels to see what they could find. The rest of the group continued shuffling into the small room until only Archer was left, moving slowly behind the group, watching the rear. In the distance they could all hear the shuffling and banging sound of the creatures smashing their way into the catacombs under the church and continuing the pursuit. Nothing seemed to halt their progress.

  Jones had taken the left turn, moving out with the German close behind him. The tunnel was in a much worse condition, but the one positive bit was that he could see some kind of light far into the distance. Light could mean only one thing, which was this route took them back to the surface. The floor of the tunnel was a good third full of water and it ran up to his thigh. He turned back to tell the others only to find the German blocking his way. Jones tried to push past but the soldier grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground
. Jones could see nothing as his torch hit the water, plunging the tunnel into darkness. He disappeared under the wet grime of the tunnel floor, taking in a mouthful of muddy water before managing to sit up and then lift his head out of the water. He could hear sounds of a man sloshing through the water; the German must be trying to escape to the light in the distance. As Jones picked himself up he felt himself thankful that the man hadn’t tried to kill him. It made sense in a way; if they all got out he could look forward to years as a POW. In the darkness he staggered back in the direction he’d come from, luckily glimmers of light from the others in the room around the corner, gave him an idea in which direction to travel. As he walked he was positive he could hear the groans of the creatures. He turned around but he could see nothing. He kept still and listened carefully. At first he could just hear a little movement, then came the sloshing of dozens of feet.

  Jones muttered to himself, “Bollocks, they must have found their way into the tunnel. Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  He turned back and moved as fast as he could, shouting to the other survivors to get ready. He stumbled a few times, knocking his shoulders and head on the slime and muck of the filthy tunnel.

  Sergeant Smith on the other hand was still working his way through his tunnel. Though it was much drier it twisted and turned but gave no indication as to where it led. There was no sign of light ahead and the air smelt damp and stale, not a good sign. After walking for a good three minutes he decided to turn back, maybe Jones had found something better. After just a few steps he heard the roar of heavy weapons fire, it must be Archer. Either the rest had hit trouble or more likely, the undead had made their way through the basement and were on their way to the room under the ground. Smith started to increase his speed, wanting to get back as quickly as possible. More gunfire added to the Bren gun, the shots sounds like handguns, rather than the meaty roar of the rifles and carbines carried by many of the men. As he reached the small room he found Captain Scott, Trent and Harris all trying to fend off a number of the creatures at the entrance to the tunnel leading back to the church.

  There was no sign of Archer or where the gun shots were coming from. A couple more shots rang out; they were coming from the direction Jones had headed off in. The poor light thrown by the torches showed the shapes of figures coming back; the first was Jones who fell into the room, covered in mud. Right behind him was the young resistance fighter and then Archer, still firing.

  Smith ran over to Jones, pulling him over to the wall of the room. Jones was gasping; Smith didn’t understand what had happened. Jones shouted over the din, explaining what had happened.

  “I checked the route and it seems to lead to the surface. The German escaped though and before I could get away a load of those things came down into the tunnel. I think they must have spotted the German guy.”

  Smith punched the wall, “Shit, arse, fuck!”

  “So we can’t go back to the church and that route is filling up with more of the undead. We’re running out of options.”

  Captain Scott moved over to the men, interrupting Smith.

  “It’s no good, Sergeant. There are more of them coming from the church. We need to move and fast.”

  Jones answered first, pointing to the tunnel he had so recently returned from, “We can’t go that way, the place is crawling with those bastards.”

  Captain Scott turned to Sergeant Smith.

  “In that case we need to take your tunnel. Is it clear?”

  Smith, taking in a breath, answered.

  “The tunnel is clear but I’ve got no clue where it goes. I didn’t see or hear any of those things in there though.”

  The Captain looked around the room, examining their situation. Archer had held off the first wave coming from the left tunnel, whilst the few that had followed them were now in a dismembered pile on the floor. There was still the sound of more of them following though; they couldn’t stay there for much longer.

  “If the tunnel is clear of those things then it’s an improvement, get the rest and move out. There are more of them on the way. Keep the weapons to the rear, we need to keep them away as long as we can.”

  The officer made to move and then turned back, “Save your ammunition unless you really have to use it, in this space we should be able to go hand to hand. Keep the bullets for the surface.”

  The two men nodded in agreement. Smith lifted Jones to his feet and both men moved to the rest of the group.

  * * *

  Steiner dropped to the ground, the photographer holding his arms until the last minute, reducing his fall to only a few feet. As he touched the floor the sword that was still thrust into his belt tapped the ground. It wasn’t a loud sound but was enough to send his pulse racing. Steiner pulled himself up against the wall and kept himself still. He looked around, checking for any signs of the undead. So far so good, there was no sign of anything moving within a few hundred feet of the house. He looked up towards the roof, spotting the shapes of the photographer and the other man. He signalled to them both and then moved towards the small structure that housed the truck. Creeping very slowly he noticed that the truck was in a better state than they had assumed. It was covered up in thick canvas but several of its tyres were low or flat. It was pretty obvious that the vehicle hadn’t been used for some time. Steiner moved in closer, working his way around to the front of the vehicle. The bonnet was up and the engine bay was full of dust. Next to the truck was a broken down kubelwagen, the common German utility vehicle. The back of the car was crushed and the engine was in pieces on the floor. It looked like somebody had been working on it recently. Leaving the car he moved back to the truck, checking the engine for signs of damage or repair. Luckily the engine bay appeared clear of damage and the canvas sheeting had done its job by keeping dust and debris away from the vulnerable components.

  Steiner moved back a little and gestured towards the men on the roof to keep a good lookout. The last thing Steiner needed was for any of the creatures to catch him near the vehicle. In this position he had no way to escape and nobody to help him if he hit trouble. From their rooftop position the two survivors scanned the area, each looking down the barrel of his weapon, so far so good. Steiner turned back to the truck and looked for the ignition system. It was time to see if this old machine worked.

  * * *

  The situation underground was getting desperate. Since leaving the room they had found the tunnel condition worsening. At points each person had to crawl through small areas where parts of the wall and roof had caved in. It was incredible that they were still able to keep moving. Even worse, the undead seemed perfectly attuned to moving in the tunnel and in the darkness. It was as though the creatures could sense or even smell the living as they tried to get away. Smith led the group whilst Trent and Harris helped the civilians who were finding it hard to make progress. At the front they were stopped by something large blocking the tunnel. From what they could see it appeared to be the roots of a tree. It was much too substantial to move but luckily for them the soil was soft. Smith and Jones started digging away with their weapons, quickly revealing the tunnel behind. Captain Scott pushed himself up to the two sergeants.

  “What’s the problem? We need to keep moving.”

  Smith, without pausing explained.

  “Looks like a tree or something is blocking the tunnel. We’re digging through, it’ll be a minute or two.”

  The Captain looked back, the faint glimmer of the last two torches flickering at the end of the group. He looked back at the two men.

  “You get any ammo left?”

  Jones fidgeted, then handed over a pistol clip. Smith had nothing.

  “You two keep at it, I’ll do what I can at the rear. Move as fast as you can!”

  The two redoubled their efforts whilst the Captain moved back to Archer who was still watching the tail end.

  “Any sign of them?” he asked.

  Archer, without moving from his position whispered quietly.

  “
Yeah, I spotted a group a way back. They’ll be here real soon.”

  Captain Scott pulled out his Colt and held it up so he could see it more clearly in the flickering light. Taking out the clip he could make out the bullets at the top of the magazine. He could have no more than five or six bullet remaining. He whispered to the rest of the group.

  “Anybody with a weapon I need here, you have to hold them back. Until they clear the blockage we’re stuck.”

  Harris and Trent moved back to a help Captain Scott and Archer at the end of the tunnel. Though they had almost no ammunition left they did have two Enfields, both with bayonets fitted to them. These were wicked weapons and just what was needed for this kind of fighting. Trent held up one of the last remaining torches whilst brandishing his spike bayonet in his right hand.

  “Can you hear that?” said Trent.

  The group strained their hearing; they could hear a scratching sound. It wasn’t coming from the direction they were all watching. The young Frenchman, still brandishing his now empty Sten stepped back, moving himself to the wall of the tunnel. Almost immediately a hand pushed through the soft soil of the tunnel wall and grabbed at his throat. With a shout of surprise a mud covered head emerged and bit down into his throat, biting so hard that the young man fell down with the thing on top of him. Stood next to him the other three French civilians tried to pull the creature off him but it was too late. The blood loss was so great he was dead in almost seconds. Another part of the tunnel wall collapsed, burying the older man in the group. Three of the creatures crawled out of the filth, biting and grabbing at them.

  As if this wasn’t enough, the attack from the main tunnel finally started. A large group had obviously been trying to find them and the sound of the fighting had drawn them in. With the familiar wailing and groaning the pack of undead monsters hit the rear of the column.