Red Devils

24

The bodies were mounting up.

Less than forty troops had brought down treble that number of advancing undead creatures. They were finally starting to thin out, stumbling onto the airfield in dribs and drabs now. Some were little more than withered husks, the reanimated remains of locals. Others, however, had once been soldiers, and despite having lost every shred of humanity, the urge to maim and to kill remained. They dragged themselves along until they saw one of the Americans when the scent of the living seemed to reinvigorate them, transforming them from mindless shambling shells to brutal killers in seconds.

Half of Captain Hunter’s men were still fighting back their unnatural attackers, the other half removing the debris of battle from the airfield. Men moved quickly in pairs, picking up corpses by the hands and feet, then carrying them over to near the hangar and leaving them in a pile. Hunter thought he’d like to torch the grotesque mound and keep throwing more and more of the bastards on top of the heap, but the flames would inevitably attract even more of them.

Sergeant Hennessy was unrecognisable. Dripping with blood. Panting with effort. Steam rose from his sweat-soaked body. ‘I think we’re there, Captain,’ he said, breathless.

‘I think you’re right, Hennessy. Clear the decks, hold the perimeter, and keep the damn noise down.’