Sherlock Holmes and the Zombie Problem.indb

by Nick S. Thomas; Arthur C. Doyle

  We were free and clear, the line of carriages behind us was losing speed at quite a rate and we were well on our way to Interlaken, just one carriage and the locomotive. However, what really concerned us at this stage in our journey was that the attacks were getting more common and more vicious, rather implying that Moriarty was pinning down our location and gaining in strength.

  “Based on the current events it would rather seem likely that Moriarty will try to end us finally in Interlaken. He evidently has some fairly accurate information on where we are and will know that our ammunition quantity dwindles upon each engagement. Additionally, our foe would not let us get close enough to his home and base without confronting us with everything he had, of which he has not done yet, though that platform was perhaps a precursor to.”

  At this stage, we were perhaps winging our way to our deaths, but none of us gave it too much thought. Finally, we sat comfortably and safely, attributes which were pure luxury in these horrid days. Everyone took stock of their weapons, reloading everything they had. We still had a good deal of ammunition in our packs thanks to Cyril, but it would likely be needed in its entirety if this next battle would be Moriarty’s big push.

  We were now getting ever closer to our final destination and Moriarty was clearly all too aware of that fact, trying desperately to stop us at every turn. However, he clearly still did not understand the exact co-ordinates of our location, which was never allowing him to funnel all his strength into one place, a fortunate fact for us. It was quite clear though that the closer we got to threatening his presence in Switzerland, the easier it would be to pin point us.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I awoke from a short but appreciated sleep to see that we were firmly in the daylight of the next day. Still trundling on down the tracks towards Interlaken, we must have been just minutes away. Holmes was sat upright and fully alert, gazing out of the window in deep thought, whilst the other four men were still asleep. I wondered if Holmes had gotten any sleep at all, or been in this state of alertness for the entire journey. Perhaps this is why he always looked so gaunt and fatigued, as he never slept more than the minimum required to operate.

  Interlaken would be an important hub for us, as it was for many, and it therefore only seemed logical that our enemy would have set some plan in motion involving the town. Sadly, we could do nothing now but head directly towards the place and hope for the best.

  The platform came into view and it was a sight to see, the most people we had seen in one place since we began this journey, all busy at work of some sort, it seemed overly busy for a small town.

  Nearing the platform we could see people on stretchers, with various civilians and policeman carrying an assortment of small arms. This was a familiar sight to me, from long before this latest adventure, the aftermath of a battle. Switzerland was not at war with anybody, and civil dispute was just not a possibility, and therefore, they must have been fighting the same creatures that had continually hounded us. Here was a dilemma, a town full of civilians, with a number of infected survivors among them. No authority would believe our story, and therefore, we could only attempt to leave this town as quickly as we entered it.

  Clearly Moriarty had set in place some plan for this town, but the hardy folk had resisted quite effectively. Unfortunately, as they would be soon to discover, the real fight was yet to begin. Fortunately our abundance of weapons would not stand out in this place, allowing us to move without question by authorities. The train came to a halt at what was another disaster waiting to happen, something we were all too familiar with now. Stepping out onto the platform we took a quick look around before Holmes strode on.

  “Should we not help these people?” asked Cyril. Holmes did not even slow down, but answered in mid stride.

  “There is nothing we can do for them, they will learn soon enough the true extent of the enemy they face, and they could well be the end of us if we stayed.”

  It was a harsh reality, but in an open space with people that were already infected, and many more potential victims, a group of civilians could quickly become an army of zombis. These people must have fought the creatures within the last twenty or thirty minutes, we had to be quick. Holmes led the way off the platform eastwards towards Brienzer See, the easterly lake of the town.

  “You are walking with intent Holmes, do you know which direction to head or are you merely getting out of this place?” I asked.

  “In my research over the previous weeks I had seen some mention of the town of Meirengen, and my gut tells me that it is a place of importance,” Holmes replied.

  We were making good distance through the streets, with a few people giving us odd looks, clearly looking like foreigners, and yet unusually well armed, but all were too busy or concerned to say a word to us. Now half way through the town, a hundred yards down the street, we could see a couple of dozen school children being herded by their teacher. This was a sight which we knew immediately would lead to a serious dilemma. It became quickly apparent that the children were being moved at quite a speed and urgency. This did not bode well.

  Getting nearer to the children screams rang out from the other side of the group. Holmes and the rest of us quickened our pace to confront this new problem. Nearing the group we could see bodies on the ground just twenty yards from the children with two of the creatures shambling towards them, fresh blood still dripping from their foul and disgusting jaws.

  Egerton and Matthey immediately took aim with their rifles, each targeting one of the creatures, though wecould already see a gathering mass of the beasts approaching from a distance. Egerton’s Mauser rang out and the bullet struck the eye socket of the creature, the eye ball exploding and blood gushing from the socket. The bullet cleanly exited the beast’s skull and it tumbled to the ground. Matthey’s Mosin fired at the second but skimmed the creature’s skull, cracking the very top of it and causing the beast’s own blood to drip down its face. In a split second Matthey re-cocked the weapon with supreme efficiency and put a further round directly into the brain, the beast was finished.

  The children were being herded by their teacher in through a doorway to a large wooden building of what was evidently their school, a wise move. More cries rang out from the direction we had come from. Civilians were being attacked randomly, a few gun shots rang out, but not near enough, it had begun, and we were just a matter of minutes too late to escape without a fight.

  “What do we do Holmes?”

  “Run and live or stand and fight?” he replied. Holmes was giving us an option, but no man could run

  in this situation. The town was overrun, but this school house was a sanctuary, one which could only stay as such with our support.

  “Into the school!” Cyril shouted.

  The men piled through the doorway after the children and Cyril slammed the door. This was not a good situation, shut in a building with now terrible odds against us, and yet our principals would not have us do anything else. The teacher who had led the children rushed towards us.

  “What is going on here?” she shouted.

  “Watson, the fair sex is your department,” said Holmes. The men were taking hold of everything they could

  place their hands on to barricade the door, which was fortunately reasonably sturdy to begin with. The woman expected answers from me but our situation was too desperate, no hand could be spared.

  “Please excuse me Madam, but get your children upstairs to a safe a place as exists and stay there!” I shouted over the screams of the children.

  She nodded in response, thank heavens, the last thing I had time for was an explanation let alone an argument.

  “John, Berty, get to the other side of the building and start barricading all windows. Watson, Egerton, do the same for the side windows and any doors, Cyril and I will handle the front,” said Holmes.

  They all rushed off with all urgency and understanding upon the tasks Holmes had given them, as I did. I took the easterly side whilst the two men rushed t
o the rear, Egerton mirroring me on the westerly side. There were three windows on my side of the school, all were a good four feet off the ground, a comforting basis for defence against an unarmed enemy.

  Fortunately, being a school, every room was laid out with furniture, and plenty of it. I upturned a large wooden table and propped it against the far window, sliding several cupboards in front to secure it. The middle window had a tall wardrobe near it, which I slid across to cover the access up. Just as I finished up, glass smashed at the third and final window and an arm reached through to hoist the body up and through. Damn, these were strong creatures, and either intelligent or highly determined. My rifle being propped against the inner wall and out of reach I pulled my service revolver from its holster as the beast’s head popped through the opening. Aiming at its head at just five feet away, I let the lead loose and plastered what were nicely decorated walls with arterial red blood, the creature slumped on the window frame, lifeless.

  Walking to the window where my latest victim lay, I could see more zombis trying to follow their dead comrade’s lead, big mistake. Laying my boot on the bloody head of my vanquished foe I kicked it off the window sill and onto the beasts below. Before they could recover, my revolver had the closest in sight, I fired and the bullet pierced the skull, driving down to the nerve stem, a gaping hole that left the beast tumbling to the ground. Turning my pistol on the next closest I quickly fired into the centre of the face, striking the bone of the nose, causing the bullet to deflect in to the eye socket and rip through the side of the head.

  That was enough to give me time to block the hole. Taking hold of a large sideboard I slid it across and turned it upright, continuing to fling every object in sight at its base to keep it where it stood. I was content that this side of the building was as secure as could be hoped for, but before I could consider any future actions, glass smashing and the scream of a man rang out, followed by several gun shots.

  I ran to the north side of the building, finding the window broken, a dead creature slumped in the bay, but no sign of the defender, just a trail of blood leading to the west side. I quickly pushed the beast over the edge with the stock of my rifle and upended a table in front of the window, weighted down by nearby chairs. Now following the path of blood, it was not a pleasant sight, nor the end I wanted to find. Furniture clattered off at the far end of the northern wall, I quickly ran to investigate.

  “Egerton, Watson!” Berty cried.

  Taking the corner into a new room I found a horrible site. John, now a zombe had Berty in his grasp on the floor, the two men tussled around in desperation. Not wanting to risk shooting Berty, but with a sick stomach I turned my rifle around and struck John hard on the head, he slumped to one side, unconscious. Egerton ran into the room as I offered my hand to Berty.

  “Have you been bitten?” I asked urgently.

  Berty looked confused, he was in shock, it was no easy task to accept your good friend has become an enemy, and especially at such short notice.

  “Berty! Snap out of it, we haven’t time to waste, are you harmed?” Egerton insisted.

  “No, I’m fine,” Berty replied.

  That was fortunate, as we had now lost one friend and ally already, another was not acceptable. The building was safe and secure for the moment, but the hum of the creatures at our walls was ever present, as well as the odd cry of another victim that was quickly silenced. This was a bad situation we had been placed in but one that defined us. Holmes ran into the room with Cyril, weapons at the ready. They paused and looked at the bloodied body of John lying lifeless on the floor beside us.

  “Was he infected?” asked Holmes.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Dead?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then we must finish the job,” Holmes replied.

  I argued with Holmes, we did not know the extent of this disease or whether it could be cured. There was a man who had until minutes before been our friend and ally, and now Holmes wished to remove him from this world. The very idea struck me at the core, as a doctor I could never give up on a patient so readily. Before I could finish my reasoning with Holmes a shot rang out beside me and blood splattered across the floor. Cyril had shot John in the back of the head.

  “He was one of us!” I shouted.

  “Us being the operative word, he was infected, he no longer had anything in common with the John I knew other than a facial resemblance. He would have brought nothing but suffering and disaster to this group. He was my friend before he was yours, and you know this to be the correct course of action, throw aside your medical ways and accept this as a necessary casualty of war!” said Cyril.

  They were harsh words, not any that could easily be accepted, but he was right. The infection was beyond our control, even if a cure could be found, we had no way to secure the victims to pursue a treatment. The fact also remained that as far as we had seen without own eyes, these creatures were humans that had died, so were they even the same person anymore? There was nothing else to do but accept this, and the fact that I may well have to do the same for one of my friends in the near future, a horrible thought.

  “What now?” Cyril asked of Holmes.

  “Egerton, Berty, keep a guard on the inner perimeter, Cyril, Watson, come with me.”

  We followed Holmes upstairs to a quiet room where he evidently wanted to discuss our situation and tactics. We were now in a siege situation, which was never an appealing idea. We pulled up chairs and sat down in the middle of the room, there was a permanent groan of the masses outside, but other than that, it was quite peaceful.

  “We are safe for now, but that safety can only last as long as the barricades do, or our ammunition, or until hunger finally takes us, as is the case in every siege,” I said.

  “It was not a wise move becoming locked in like this, and yet, one we must now deal with,” replied Holmes.

  “So what do we do?”

  “Stay and we may eventually be relieved by the military forces, if they can subdue the enemy, fight to break out, in which we may have too little ammunition, or divide our forces with a combination of the two,” replied Holmes.

  “But which is the best course of action Holmes?”

  “If Moriarty is not stopped then I see no hope for us, and whilst the onslaught may stop, we could face the potential of a wicked villain in power. Not just in England but across Europe, a dictator the likes none of us have ever known. Therefore, wemust continue on to Meirengen to either stop Moriarty’s scheme or finish him,” replied Holmes.

  We all sat back, contemplating the turn of events. It was becoming ever more clear to Cyril and I what Holmes knew had to be done. At least some of us had to continue on to the greater task at hand, but none of us would leave a school of children to such a wicked fate, except perhaps Holmes. Cyril scratched his chin with an uncomfortable contemplation, and finally spoke.

  “Do you still believe you can stop this villain?” he asked.

  “We can but try,” replied Holmes.

  “Then that must be done. It seems to me that you and Watson must continue on with the task that was placed in your lap, and we will do the very same here,” said Cyril.

  It was an admirable thing to hold the fort, not wanting glory or asking for the chance of survival, but merely doing what was gentlemanly. Holmes pondered the situation for a moment, I knew he would not want to lose such a great asset as three competent fighters, but it was also the best option available.

  “Then it is decided, thank you Cyril,” said Holmes.

  The great detective offered his hand out to Cyril, for all of Holmes’ cold-heartedness; he had once again shown some inner warmth as he had done when we first met again at the start of these unspeakable events. We were perhaps leaving three great men to die, but on their own terms and for all the right reasons, a fitting death for military men.

  We were all thoroughly exhausted, and were yet to devise a plan for us to break out. It was quite clear we needed the
help of the teacher, who was more familiar with the building and terrain than we were. “We need to talk to the mistress of the school, as we must be leaving within the hour for what could be the final battle of this war,” said Holmes.

  The three of us got up and strolled down the corridor to where we could hear the sound of conversation. Opening the door the room went silent, there were maybe twenty children sat with their nervous teacher biting her nails, she was in her early thirties. The children were completely silent, observing and listening intently to every move and word we made. Holmes explained to her that we had to be off within the hour, but that the other three would stay with them. She was still in shock and quite shaky, but fortunately still capable of assisting us, as well as able to speak near perfect English.

  “It might be useful to know that in the courtyard we have a cart with two horses, though one of the wheels is buckled,” she explained.

  “Do you have saddles? I asked?

  “Yes.”

  This was music to our ears, we had gained transport. Now we just needed a way to break out of the siege that would both provide a safe exit for us and not compromise the defence of the school.

  “Is the courtyard enclosed?”

  “It has a gate and high walls running all around and is adjoined to the school on the westerly side,” she replied.