“Where is he?” called out Lewis.
He was answered shortly after by Smith who had spotted the old man, no more than a hundred yards away.
“There! Come on!”
They sprinted the last few seconds till they were within speaking distance. They were greeted by the bizarre sight of the old man. He wore a tweed jacket, a dark brown hat and had a vintage, nineteenth century blunderbuss in his right hand. He sported a thick leather belt from which a gunpowder flash hung. Next to this was a military issue revolver.
Lieutenant Harvey moved closely to the man, holding out his hand. The old man gave the three men a quick glance, looking from their feet to their heads, making a mental note of their attire and equipment. As the two men shook hands the old man spoke is almost perfect English.
“Good morning gentleman. I am Monsieur Raymond Poulain.”
Sergeant Smith looked to Harvey in surprise, the officer spoke in response to the friendly greeting.
“Good morning to you, sir. I am Lieutenant Harvey of the British 6th Airborne Division.”
M. Poulain smiled, baring gleaming white teeth to the men.
“I have been waiting five years for you to come. I think you have arrived just in time,” he gave the men an almost mysterious look as he spoke.
“What do you mean?” asked Harvey.
“Have you not seen the living bodies?” said M. Poulain.
Sergeant Smith interrupted.
“You mean the ones that have been attacking us, that look like they are already dead?”
The old man said nothing, just looking at the sergeant. Smith looked a little confused until he spotted the man’s hand; he shook it and introduced himself. “Sergeant Smith, pleased to meet you, sir,” he said awkwardly.
The old man chortled to himself, perhaps at his discomfort.
“Yes, the dead ones. They appeared three days ago, just after the German trucks arrived.”
The three British soldiers looked at each other, Harvey made the decision before the conversation could go on any more.
“Will you come with us please?” he asked the old man.
He nodded and the four turned to make the return journey to the church. M. Poulain made surprising progress for a man of his age and in a matter of moments they were almost back to the perimeter wall on the western part of the church. Up to their right they could see the shape of the church tower with its highest window being occupied by Trent. For a moment Lewis thought he saw a blinking light at the window. Before he had time to move he felt something whistle past his left ear, followed by a meaty thump. Spinning around he found himself face to face with one of the creatures. It must have been crawling amongst the tombstones. The top half of its head was missing and it started to tumble backwards to the floor. The rifle report sounded, catching up with the supersonic speed of the bullet.
“Fuck me!” called out the relived soldier as he waved to Trent up in the tower. “I didn’t even hear it,” he muttered.
Trent gave him the thumbs up and then slipped back into the darkness of the church tower.
The small group was now at the wall and the men the other side helped manhandle the old man over the low wall and into their compound. From this position they could make out all three walls that formed the front courtyard area of the church. Each wall was manned by a few men and a knocked over mortar lay in the middle along with several bags of what looked like ammunition.
“Come with me,” said Lieutenant Harvey as he led M. Poulain into the church. Inside was as they had left it, the two wounded men, the soldiers and Madeleine and Adrienne. As they moved into the nave Adrienne spotted the old man.
“Monsieur Poulain!” she cried and lifted herself up, running over to the man. Madeleine, noticing what was going on followed closely on her heels. As the three were reunited Lieutenant Harvey walked over to Captain Scott.
“The old man could be useful; he knows something about these things that have been attacking us.”
Scott nodded, “What is it like out there now?”
Harvey started to walk backed towards M. Poulain whilst speaking to the Captain.
“It’s pretty quiet, I think we’re okay…for now,” he stopped in front of the three civilians.
Lieutenant Harvey spoke first, “Monsieur Poulain, this is Captain Scott of the American 101st Airborne Division. Could we have a word?”
The old man smiled at the American officer and held out his hand. The two shook hands.
“It is nice to see the Americans have decided to join in now.”
The American captain wasn’t too sure if he was being sarcastic, Lieutenant Harvey on the other hand new exactly what he meant and allowed himself a short smile. He turned to the girls and whispered something to them both, they gave him a last squeeze and then moved off a short distance to sit in the pews.
“First of all, are you here for the invasion we have been waiting for, or to study these animals?” he pointed out to the porch, presumably to the outside where the creatures had come from.
Captain Scott answered. “We are the first Allied soldiers in France, and more are coming. This is the beginning of the end for the Nazis.”
The old man looked nonplussed. “Perhaps, I think things are maybe different to how you thought they would be, it isn’t just soldiers in this place anymore.”
Lieutenant Harvey spoke to Scott. “I think he’s talking about the trucks he said came to this area. They apparently brought something here. Do you think they knew we would be coming to this location?”
Captain Scott frowned. “I don’t understand, we’ve heard nothing about anything unusual in this area. Are you sure this happened when the trucks came?”
“Yes,” answered M. Poulain, “I was out with my dogs when I saw them..” he mumbled for a moment, trying to find the correct word, “carrying…no, unloading large containers at the garage.”
“The garage in the village?” asked Lieutenant Harvey.
“Yes, you have seen it,” said the old man.
“How do you know that’s what started this?”
“Well, I saw one of the tucks had men on it, they weren’t from around here, and they sounded foreign, maybe Russian. I don’t know,” he moved his head as he spoke, “there was something strange about them, like they were hurt or drunk, who knows?”
“Go on,” said Captain Scott.
The old man thought for a few seconds.
“I have seen these trucks taking away people before, so I hid and watched to see what happened. Some soldiers came and forced the men into the garage. There was a lot of noise and then guns shots. The Germans came back out and left.”
Lewis was not really paying attention, he was more interested in the antique firearm the old man had been carrying. M. Poulain noticed his interest and handed it to Lewis, “Be careful, it is dangerous!” he said with a smile.
Lewis held onto the weapon, handing it with the care he might give a small child or baby. The gun was truly exceptional and something he wouldn’t expect to see on any operations. It was in mint condition, it looked as though it was brand new but that couldn’t be so. It was presumably a family heirloom and sported a folding root wood stock that itself was fine inlaid with silver wire. The detail was incredible, a work of art in itself. The barrel was inlaid with silver and brass. The blunderbuss had a belt hook so that it could be easily carried when on the move and its short barrel was fitted with a wide oval muzzle. The lock mechanism was of the more modern percussion cap variety and the hammer was pushed forward, presumably due to the fact it had recently been fired.