Red Devils

27

The Nazi’s boots echoed off the walls of the castle tower. He’d used an entrance hitherto unseen, but the noise Obersturmbannführer Scherler made as he barked orders and abuse at Doctor Månsson left Wilkins in no doubt as to where he was heading.

Wilkins skidded around a corner to see the Nazi just ahead. He ducked back under cover as the German officer fired at him, one bullet hitting the wall above his head, showering him with dust and debris.

‘There’s no way out, Fritz,’ Wilkins shouted, but the German was in no mood to capitulate.

‘You are right. There’s no way out for any of us, you British fool. We are all going to die here today.’

‘I told you, it doesn’t have to be this way.’

‘I rather think it does.’

Scherler was heading upwards now, to the top of one of the towers either side of the castle entrance. Wilkins was exhausted and the thought of climbing again filled him with dread. Less than half an hour to go… it seemed that all was lost. What was the point?

Everything depends on what you do now, old boy, he told himself. Everything!

Wilkins began to ascend the spiral staircase, pressing himself flat against the wall as another ferocious volley of bullets was sent his way. As soon as they’d stopped he ran on, but he’d been lulled into a false sense of security and the German fired at him again, hitting his left shoulder. Wilkins screamed out in pain but kept moving for all he was worth. Just a flesh wound, but by God it hurt.

At the very top of the tower, weak with effort and soaked with sweat and blood, knowing his enemy could go no further from here, he readied himself to face the German. He emerged onto the flat roof of the tower, the highest part of the castle.

The doctor was on his knees with the Nazi’s gun aimed at his head. When he saw Wilkins, Scherler aimed at him instead.

‘Let the doctor go, and I’ll let you go,’ Wilkins said.

The German laughed. Nervous, slightly maniacal. ‘Do you really believe you have any bargaining power? You British are so arrogant, so superior… and so predictable. You think you hold all the aces where, in fact, you hold none.’

‘We’ll all have been dealt a pretty awful hand if this infection isn’t stopped, don’t you think?’

‘Not at all… with Doctor Månsson’s help, the Fuhrer’s plan to create the Aryan master-race will soon be complete.’

‘Never,’ Månsson spat, and he caught a vicious thump to the back of his head for his troubles. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

‘You bloody fool,’ Wilkins sighed. ‘He’s our only hope. Don’t you see that? Månsson can help us stop this germ in its tracks.’

‘But we have no need to do that. Our beautiful disease must be allowed to flourish. Doctor Månsson has been working on a cure, a way of ensuring only those we want to survive will stay alive. A way of cleansing the planet like no other, leaving only the master race behind. Do you not yet realise you’re beaten, you British pig?’

‘And you think Månsson will help you?’

‘You make it sound like he has a choice.’

‘There’s always a choice.’

Wilkins raised his pistol higher and aimed directly at the German’s head. Scherler glared at him. ‘I’ll put a bullet in his brain if you take another step nearer. Now put down your weapon.’

And then a single shot rang out, echoing through the early morning gloom.

Wilkins checked himself for further injury, but there was none. The German staggered back, clutching his chest. But who had fired? Wilkins looked around and saw Steele on the top of the opposite tower, gesticulating wildly for his commanding officer to get moving.

But the Nazi wasn’t finished yet.

With the last dregs of energy he could summon, he fired his rifle repeatedly at Doctor Månsson. The scientist’s body twitched and jerked violently.

‘You evil bastard!’ Wilkins shouted, and he fired his weapon at the German again and again, each shot forcing him further and further back towards the battlements. ‘Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve condemned the entire world to a fate worse than death.’

The Nazi grinned through blood-stained teeth. The sickening smile was too much for Wilkins to stand and he fired twice more, the final shot sending the kraut over the top of the tower’s battlements. He fell like a stone, bouncing off the roof of another part of the castle below, then landing in a crumpled heap in the courtyard. Wilkins peered down after him. The dawn light was sufficient now for him to be able to make out every detail as hordes of the dead descended on the fatally wounded German officer.

Månsson lay shuddering on the cold ground, his life draining away with the blood that trickled down the spiral staircase. Wilkins crouched down and the doctor pulled him closer. He said something, but it was hard to make out. ‘What are you saying, man?’

‘The girl,’ Månsson said, his voice little more than a drowned croak now as his lungs filled with blood. ‘She’s the one…’

‘I don’t understand. What girl?’

‘She’s the cure…’

‘What girl?’ he asked again, frantic now, but it was too late. Månsson was dead.

Steele appeared from the staircase. ‘Come on, Lieutenant. We need to move. We’ve barely minutes left to get out of here.’

Wilkins knelt over the dead doctor. ‘There’s no point running, Steele. It’s over. I fear our number’s up.’

‘Not quite,’ he said. ‘There’s something you need to see.’

Steele had to drag Wilkins over to the side of the tower and force him to look down. At first all Wilkins could see was chaos. Vast numbers of the dead had escaped the confines of the concentration camp and were swarming out through the surrounding countryside, many of them heading for the airfield at Leginów where the sounds of distant action could be heard. Many more remained trapped in the camp itself, either unable to get out or still intent on hunting down the remaining few survivors. Another crowd had formed around the hut where the last few desperate prisoners of war continued to shelter.

And down there, right in the middle of the madness, was the small girl that Doctor Månsson had clung onto so desperately. She was easy to see, because the dead weren’t attacking her. In fact, Wilkins realised, the foul things were positively avoiding her. A significant bubble of space had formed around her, and the space moved as she did. Creatures backed out of her way, tripping over each other to move.

‘It’s incredible, isn’t it, sir,’ said Steele, ‘she must somehow be immune.’

‘Good Lord, you might be right. Whatever she is, she’s our best chance,’ Wilkins agreed. ‘In fact, as far as I can see she’s now our only chance. Come on, man!’