Red Devils

30

Steele looked for Wilkins, and Wilkins looked for the girl. She had to be here somewhere, Wilkins thought, but he kept glancing over at the hole in the border fence, wondering if she’d managed to escape. His energy was flagging, and his feelings of abject loss and desolation were increasing by the second. In some ways it would have been easier to have missed by a mile. To have come so close to success yet to have still failed was tantamount to cruelty.

Did he run now and try to get away, or did he keep looking until the last possible second? Was there any point in running and heading home empty-handed? Would there even be a home left to run back to?

He’d fought with so many dead bodies since being back out in the open that it had almost become second nature, like working on a factory assembly line where one slip could mean infinitely more than losing your job. He tried to focus on re-killing as best he could while he continued to look for the girl.

Go for the head.

Knife first, then fist, then pistol.

Keep fighting.

Don’t stop.

Don’t think about the odds.

But as he gouged his blade through the eye of a blood-splattered, grey-skinned dead SS officer, Wilkins couldn’t help but remember how heavily the odds were stacked against him now. He liked a flutter as much as the next man, but he wouldn’t have bet so much as a penny on him getting out of this scrape alive.

Still more corpses. For every one which went down without a fight, several more came at him with real tenacity and venom. His arms felt like lead… how much longer?

Another wave. Deep breath.

Wilkins dug in and struck out again, cutting into the neck of another obnoxious ex-SS cadaver. He miss-timed and carved a jagged slice across the creature’s neck, and when it slumped forward he was drenched in its foul-smelling rotten blood. The next one came at him and he stabbed at its face. His blade disappeared into its gaping maw, then sunk into the back of its throat. His hands still wet with blood, the handle of his clasp knife slipped from his grip and the ghoul tripped away with his knife still wedged between its jaws.

Just the pistol left now.

Only a handful of bullets.

He fired once, missing the brain but hitting the chest of another corpse. The impact of the shot was enough to send it spiralling away.

The next one was a perfect hit. Right between the eyes.

The next one was nowhere near as elegant, but he did enough damage to bring the vile thing down.

The next one wore the drab, blood-stained uniform of a prisoner. Particularly insistent, it managed to hook its gnarled fingers in the folds of his smock. Another caught his trousers. One crawling along the ground had his boot. Despite their slothful speed, he was in real danger of being overwhelmed. He tried to beat them off, but there were too many…

The next one was pointing a gun directly at him.

He froze. Panicked. Went to fire back but hesitated.

‘Lieutenant Wilkins?’

Wilkins realised he must have looked an awful fright, covered in dirt and discharge from the undead as well as his own sweat and blood. He was surprised Steele had even recognised him. He’d have told him as much, but he barely had the energy to breathe, let alone talk. Steele kicked out at another cadaver as it went to attack the lieutenant. Wilkins raised his pistol to fire at one more, but the chamber clicked empty. ‘I should have saved two bullets for us, Sergeant,’ he gasped.

‘Why, sir? I’ve no intention of falling at the last hurdle.’

And Wilkins realised that Steele was holding the hand of Doctor Månsson’s precious little girl.

‘Good Lord.’

‘She’ll help get us out of here, Lieutenant. Stay close to me.’

The numerous creatures which had, just seconds earlier, seemed intent on tearing the lieutenant limb from limb, were now doing everything in their limited power to get away from him or, more specifically, from Månsson’s girl. They scampered away from her like the rats they’d earlier seen spilling out along the castle corridors.

‘I think she’s dead, Lieutenant, but she’s not like the rest of them. She’s different. She’s the cure, I reckon. She seems to repel them like oil and water. It’s like they’re scared of her.’

‘Then let’s get her out of here and fast,’ Wilkins said, his energy and composure beginning to return. ‘She may well be mankind’s last hope.’

The girl gave the soldiers a degree more freedom than they were used to. Wilkins was already heading for the gaping hole in the fence, readying himself to try and run to the airfield, but Steele called him back. ‘Wait, Lieutenant.’

‘Come on, man… the plane will be leaving any minute. We don’t have time to delay.’

‘We don’t have time to get there, either.’

‘Then what do you suggest?’

Carrying the girl over one shoulder like a sack of coal now, Steele pointed back into the camp with his free arm. A vehicle compound. Ignored by the rotting masses. ‘Over there. Let’s help ourselves to one of Jerry’s supply trucks.’