“What about the men they took into the garage?” asked Harvey.
“Well, I waited about half an hour and nothing happened so I went to have a look. I crossed the road and looked inside where they had taken the men. C’est le bazaar!”
“What did you find?” asked an inquisitive Harvey.
The old man looked at both the officers then back to Harvey, he leaned in close so that the girls could not hear.
“They were eating the prisoners!”
The officers recoiled in horror. Captain Scott moved closely to Harvey and spoke quietly, “Are you are we can trust this guy?”
Harvey looked at the old man. He looked well dressed, smart and completely in control of his thoughts. Harvey decided he needed more information from this man.
“Who are you Monsieur Poulain?”
“My family own a small chateaux a distance away on the road to the Orne River Bridge. We own most of the land you see here, we were farmers,” he replied.
“Were?” asked Harvey.
“Yes, were,” answered M. Poulain.
“The Germans keep taking the young men away. Both of my sons have already been sent to the military to fight the Russians. My wife died in the winter, it is just me left.”
Captain Scott continued the questioning, “Where is everybody else from the village?”
“Some of them have been attacking us, and the rest are in hiding. You arrived just in time,” M. Poulain sighed.
“What about the girls, why are they not in hiding?” said Scott. He was still not convinced.
M. Poulain looked at them and rubbed his forehead.
“They are not from the village, their family lives the other side of the wood, on the edge of the next village.”
He called to the girls, Adrienne came over and the two engaged in a conversation, in French that was way too fast for either of the officers to follow.
Whilst the discussion continued Sergeant Smith went back outside to check on the status of the unit. The whole front of the church reeked from the smell of recently used firearms. The walled area so recently defended by the soldiers was full of grubby and tired airborne soldiers. Smith called them to attention and checked the numbers. He walked along the perimeter that followed the length of the church, inspecting each man and his kit and noting details down in a small notebook, especially their ammunition and supplies. Though this current defence had been without casualties, he was appalled at the losses they had sustained since leaving England. When he finished he let the men return to their posts and re-entered the church to speak with the Lieutenant.
Back in the church Smith was greeted by the sight of a groaning Martinez, Corporal Chard was busy checking his wounds whilst Lieutenant Harvey observed.
“I don’t understand, Sir. His wounds stopped bleeding sometime ago and he seemed to be getting better, but now his heart rate is getting weaker.”
“Could it be internal bleeding?” asked the Lieutenant.
“Maybe,” answered an unconvinced Chard, he moved up close to Martinez and whispered into his ear, “can you hear me?”
Martinez groaned, turning towards the medic. Chard listened intently; with a couple of sighs the injured Martinez appeared to pass out. He certainly wasn’t dead as his chest was still moving up and down, albeit very irregularly now.
“What did he say?” asked Lieutenant Harvey.
“He said he could hear his heart in his ears, or something like that.”
The men stood around the wounded soldier, confused at what was going on. The old man said something more to the two girls and then joined the officers at the altar. He looked at Martinez and then spoke to Lieutenant Harvey.
“Yes, I have seen this before, it is not good.”
Martinez started to shake, his voice was slurred and blood started to drip from his mouth. His face was now pale and his eyes appear liked black glass. Martinez rolled first one side and then to the other. He started to cough. Chard shouted to the men, “Hold him!”
Harvey and Smith moved towards the wounded man, grabbing his arms and holding him down. Humphreys, who until now had been propped up against the altar, hobbled over and helped hold him down also. The coughing got worse and with each spasm more blood poured from his mouth. Humphreys went to wipe the blood away but was stopped by the surprisingly strong arm of M. Poulain.
“No, do not touch the blood,” said the Frenchman.
Martinez shook once more and then with one final cough he stopped moving. Chard looked closely at his face, it was lifeless. Carefully opening his eyelid revealed a strange, hazy blackness to them, not the eyes of a normal man. The two officers released their hold on the now dead Martinez. Captain Scott looked confused.
“I don’t understand, I thought the wounds were superficial, why did he start shaking like that?”
Lieutenant Harvey looked to the Frenchman. “Monsieur Poulain, you seem to have an idea what is going on, perhaps you could enlighten us?”
The old man nodded in agreement, moving closer to the officers.
“Yes, I have seen this before. Two nights ago one of the old men from the village was bitten by something in the forest. I didn’t see him until yesterday when I went to visit him at his farm outside the village. When I got there I found his wife dead and he looked like your man here,” he pointed at Martinez, “I think the Germans are using a poison like to turn people into animals.”
Captain Scott looked unconvinced.
“You’re saying those people outside attacked us because of some chemical weapon? Bullshit!”
Chard put a sheet over the body of Martinez that was still lying on the altar, whilst the men continued their discussion.
The old man ignored the American and continued.
“When I was in the army in the war we came across many different types of chemicals. Some burnt out throats, others our eyes, some even made the soldiers got a little crazy,” he gestured with his hand around his ear as if to say they were mad.
Sergeant Smith added his own thoughts. “This may be true, what I don’t understand though is how these things are able to keep going even when we’ve put half a dozen rounds into their chests.”
Out of the corner of Captain Scott’s eye he could see movement behind Smith, from where the Martinez’ body was. As Smith was talking he could see the Captain’s eyes looking at something behind him. He turned his head slightly. “What?” he asked.
The Captain pointed at the altar, Smith turned and the others followed suit. Incredibly Martinez was sitting up but the sheet still covered him. Smith muttered, “What the hell,” and made towards the body.
Lieutenant Harvey was closer and reached out to pull off the sheet. Smith stopped moving towards the body as he was distracted by the oozing black, congealed blood dropping off the altar and down onto the floor.
“Uh Sir, don’t do that,” he called out but too late.
Harvey had pulled the sheet to reveal the full horror. Martinez may have lifted himself up but he certainly wasn’t alive, not in the traditional sense. His composure was of the recently deceased and his eyes and face were expressionless. His mouth was wide open and revealed his teeth that were already dripping in some kind of foul, dark blood or gore. Martinez leaned towards the Lieutenant and grabbed him across the upper body. Chard rushed forwards only to be struck by the left arm of Martinez; the strike was surprisingly strong and knocked the soldier back several feet. With a thrusting motion Martinez’ head pushed forwards and he sank his jaws deep into the British officer’s neck. Lieutenant Harvey cried out in pain. Captain Scott already had his pistol out from its holster and fired off three rounds from the hip, two of which struck Martinez in the chest. The third bullet embedded itself into the stonework behind the altar. Captain Scott shouted out, “Everybody back!”