More noises came from the direction of the village, the horizon seeming to move like a sea.
It could only mean more of them and they were moving in their direction.
Captain Scott moved out to the road, shouting as he left.
“Come on, we need to move!”
Jones grabbed Madeleine and in seconds the six survivors were on the road and running towards the distant flashes of the battle.
Behind them the horde shambled slowly towards them.
* * *
Steiner had no idea where he planned to go just as long as it was away from the village.
As they drove to the outskirts he spotted scores of the creatures, all wandering around in large groups.
As he moved passed them they seemed to stare right at him and then turn to follow, moving at their normal shambling pace.
As he looked ahead a large group stood, blocking the road.
He jammed his foot down, the truck sliding and then coming to a stop at a slight angle in the middle of the road.
The photographer climbed down and lifted himself up into the passenger seat next to Steiner.
“Why are we stopping?”
“Look!” answered Steiner as he pointed his finger ahead.
“Shit!” swore the man.
“Can we go back?”
Steiner lifted himself out of the cab window and looked backwards, a large number of the creatures were now on the road and following.
He pulled himself back and in slammed his foot down onto the accelerator.
With a shake the truck built up speed.
“Hell no!” shouted Steiner.
“Hold on!”
The truck continued accelerating, moving towards the centre of the large group ahead.
There must have been at least twenty of them and more were converging on the same point in the middle of the road.
The truck was now moving at a good speed, the photographer leaned out of the cab and shouted at the other man to hold on.
With a wet thump the truck ploughed into the group, sending body parts over the bonnet and onto the street.
As soon as they’d smashed through the group the truck had already dropped substantially in speed.
More of the creatures were in the road ahead and yet more converged from the village itself.
Steiner kept his foot firmly on the floor and the tired truck kept up its slow progress through the mass of people.
Further ahead he could see a small group running away from the village.
At first he simply dismissed them as more of the undead until it dawned on him, they were running.
He turned to the photographer.
“Look, survivors!”
The photographer looked at him with derision.
“So!
We can’t stop, keep moving!”
“Fuck you!”
shouted Steiner.
“If they’re alive we’re getting them.
I’m not leaving anybody else in this place.”
The photographer lunged across the cab, trying to take control of the wheel.
As the truck veered on the road something clunked and the truck spun to the side and off into a hedge.
The impact threw Steiner against the dashboard, his shoulder smashing hard and the steering wheel slammed into his chest.
With the thud the engine stalled and for a moment there was total silence.
* * *
“What was that?” shouted Jones as the group kept up their running pace on the road.
Smith, checking over his shoulder as he ran, was sure he could hear the sound of a vehicle but in this light it was hard to make out, especially with the number of undead behind them.
The sound got louder and louder until it was obvious something big was heading their way.
Captain Scott stopped and turned to see a truck swerving across the road.
“Watch out!” he cried as he dived out of the way.
By some miracle the truck steamed past them only to drift to the right and then ploughed into the hedge running along the road.
Trent picked himself up off the ground and made to move towards the truck only to spot several of the undead hanging from the back and at least three on the bed of the truck biting and clawing at the body of a lifeless man.
Only a hundred yards behind them was the first of the horde and behind them came untold hundreds, all presumably heading for this small band of the living.
Trent and Harris moved in with their bayoneted rifles whilst Smith and Scott checked the cab for survivors.
Inside the truck the impact almost knocked Steiner out.
He was slumped over the steering wheel and the world around him was spinning.
From the corner of his peripheral vision he saw people moving towards the door.
Rolling to the side he picked up his shotgun and fire a wild shot through the broken window.
Amazingly the shape dodged to the side and then moved back, tearing open the door.
His vision started to return but before he could reload the gun he noticed one of them was carrying a rifle.
He shook his head and could finally work out that the person in front was a soldier, not just any soldier but what looked like a British soldier.
His first instinct was to grab a weapon but the man raised his hands, as though he either wanted to surrender or didn’t want to fight.
Steiner turned back to where the photographer was sat to find the seat empty and the door open.
He reached over to shut the door but another soldier, this one looking like an American officer appeared.
Behind him stood two of the undead creatures, Steiner shouted and Captain Scott, spotting the sword on the seat grabbed it and duck down to the right.
The creature, reaching out with both arms missed the Captain whilst the second moved to climb inside the truck.
Captain Scott withdrew the blade in one smooth motion and then with little idea how to use it simply swung the weapon at the closest creature.
He expected the slightly curved weapon to hit with a hard impact but instead it cut cleanly though the shoulder, taking the arm off cleanly.
Surprised by the power of the weapon he slashed several more times until the creature fell to the ground in a bloody mess.
Turning back to the truck the second one was half inside and being kicked by the German sat in the driver’s seat.
Lifting the blade high he brought it down hard onto the creature back.
This time it embedded itself deep into the thing’s upper back, crushing the spinal column and turning the creature into a limp piece of meat.
Placing his boot on its back he yanked out the blade.
Sergeant Jones appeared next to him and dragged the carcass off to the ground before plunging his spike bayonet into its skull.
Harris jumped back down from the truck to knock another one back to the ground only to be felled by another three that emerged from the side of the road.
He tried to fight them off but the weight of number forced him down and in seconds they had taken multiple bites from his arms and throat.
A blast from a shotgun came from the back of the truck, one of the survivors obviously finding the now unused weapon.
The first shot knocked back the one of the creatures, the second hit Harris square in the chest, ending his misery quickly and painlessly.
Steiner, still shocked by the violence of the situation just sat there as the American jumped in and slammed the door.
He spoke to Steiner but the words meant nothing.
He didn’t speak much English and with his head pounding from the crash he was having a hard time concentrating.
A few gunshots rang out and the truck shook as more people seemed to be climbing on board.
The British soldier at the door looked at his uniform and then spoke.
“
Ich bin Sergeant Smith, sprechen Sie Englisch?” he asked.
Steiner, thinking for a moment spoke the best English he could manage.
“Steiner,” he pointed to himself.
Sergeant Smith pointed back into the road, “Untoten?”
Steiner nodded and
with a superhuman effort he pushed himself back up and tried to restart the engine.
The people on the truck, whoever they were, started firing with their weapons as the undead staggered closer.
The American sat in the passenger seat picked up the shotgun.
Steiner nodded acknowledging the fact that right now they needed each other, and proceeded to load it.
The truck shook as the rest of the survivors clambered on board.
Smith jumped up onto the bonnet and then lifted himself up to the top of the cab.
With a cough and splutter the engine roared into life.
Steiner slammed the gearstick into reverse; the crash box clunking as he roughly engaged the gears and then floored the pedal.
The rear of the truck shook as it pulled itself out of the ditch.
With a squeal of tyres the truck left a cloud of dust and blood and then moved off down the road and towards the sight of the flashing lights and tracer fire ahead.
Back on the bed of the truck Madeleine sat along with Trent, Smith and Jones.
Between them they now carried just the one firearm and only a few shells.
Madeleine said nothing, the shock of what had happened and the relief of being on the truck and escaping simply numbing her to an almost lethargic state.
Smith was watching her and thought she seemed to be very pale.
Damn, he vaguely remembered someone saying she might have been bitten.
Perhaps he’d imagined it and hoped he was wrong, but unfortunately he would have to keep a very close eye on her!
* * *
Just a few miles back sat Chard, still at the window frame as he watched the sun start to rise in the distance.
Inside the church the undead still numbered in the dozens and outside many more staggered about though now they seemed confused and dazed.
Holding the sword of the Archangel across his lap he leaned against the wall and allowed himself to rest for a moment.
The sound of distant gunfire and the occasional groaning of the undead reminding him that sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
As his heavy eyelids closed down he felt something tugging at his leg.
As he opened his eyes he panicked, realising he was falling to the floor.
The pain in his leg as he hit the stone floor was agonising, he must have easily broken his ankle in the fall.
The sword clattered to the ground nearby.
Looking upwards the light of the new day flooded into the building, lighting the face of the man stood over him.
Like the rest of the undead this one had the pale face and blood dripping mouth but unlike the rest, this one and the two stood next to it were dressed in the black uniforms of the SS.
The closest one snarled, moving quicker than the other creatures he had met so far and lunged towards him.
Rolling to his side his right hand grasped the sword, and with one powerful swing he sliced through its throat and sent its head catapulting through the air.
Holding onto the stone wall he lifted himself up.
The pain was excruciating but he could just about stand straight.
He lifted the sword up high and staggered forwards, swinging the weapon and shouting as he moved towards the two soldiers.
“Come on, you square headed bastards!”
THE END