“Good work...that was looking a bit hairy.”
Jones grinned, “That’s two you owe me now!”
Jones returned to the nave, taking M. Poulain with him. The two Frenchmen stayed with Smith and Clarke to defend the chancel. All the windows were now shattered, leaving over a dozen places for the creatures to pull themselves up and through. With four armed men now there it would hopefully be enough to hold another assault.
In the nave Captain Scott surveyed the battle. Archer had managed to stop yet another attempt on the southern part of the church, including another group in the doorway. There was almost nothing left of the doors and that worried him...a lot. On top of that they were running low on ammunition and had suffered their first injury to Wilks at the chancel. He knew in his heart that this meant he would need to deal with him before the end. It wouldn’t be easy, the man was popular in the unit and his death would not be taken well. The tower seemed to be the part of the church that was being hit the least, quite possibly because of its thick walls and small windows. He made a mental note to make use of this if they needed a strongpoint, should the rest of the church prove indefensible at any point. He moved off the main entrance, calling over to Jones and M. Poulain to help him. They helped him to move several of the containers into the doorway and up against the door. Their timing was perfect as with another two thumps the rest of the damaged doors were ripped away to reveal a terrifying sight. Jones was the closest and from his position all he could see were the undead, literally hundreds of them, all pushing up to the door and walls of the church.
Jones fell back, shouting out to the Captain, “Sir!”
As Jones retreated he lifted his Sten, emptying yet another magazine into the mass of the creatures. The bullets slammed into the stacked containers as well as the undead trying to force their way through. The rest of the defenders in the nave added more fire; even the middle-aged couple did what they could until it seemed nothing could live at the door. With a groan the containers started to move inwards, the overwhelming weight of numbers proving an irresistible force. Jones ran to the small amount of weapons and ammunition that as yet had not been claimed. He grabbed a couple of the grenades and threw one at the Captain who deftly caught it.
Back at the base of the tower a number of the creatures had made it to a window and were trying to lift themselves through the shattered frame. Lewis fought them off with his Enfield, shooting and stabbing in sequence but more kept pulling at him. He drew a grenade and pulled the pin, ready to throw outside. The walls were strong and easily capable of stopping any blast damage to those sheltered inside. After waiting long enough he approached the southern window of the base of the tower and threw the grenade gently out of the window making sure he didn’t hit the frame. Astonishingly as the grenade left his hand one of the creatures lifted itself up, blocking the window. The grenade simply bounced of its body and rolled back inside the room. Lewis staggered backwards, trying to get away but it was too late. With a flash the grenade exploded, sending shards of metal into his torso and face, killing him instantly. His shredded body flew back into the nave, leaving the base of the tower completely unguarded.
Trent, from his spot immediately above the grenade saw what happened with a look of horror on his face. He shouted to Harris and Gardner who were still shooting.
“Get down there and secure the floor, we can’t let them in!” he shouted.
The two men grabbed their weapons and equipment and rushed down the narrow staircase. Trent, now alone with just his sniper rifle for company, simply concentrated on the horde outside and kept firing. At the bottom of the stairs Harris reached the floor just in time to find one of the creatures dragging itself in. With two shots fired smoothly from his Enfield he killed the creature instantly and then took up watch at the window. Gardner was close behind and within seconds the floor was secure.
Humphreys, momentarily leaving his position on the northern face of the nave turned to put fire down on the entrance as a dozen of the creatures forced their way inside. M. Poulain was the only person between the doorway and the rest of the nave and he took the full brunt of the rush of the creatures. The first of them crashed into the man and forced him to the ground. One of the Frenchman from the chancel left his window position and jumped back to help with the fight. The three survivors from the village moved backwards, away from the door whilst the two girls ran and hid in the corner of the nave.
The glass from the windows along the northern face of the nave shattered and dark figures fell through the framing into the aisles. The old woman, too slow and frail was immediately caught, as was the old man who was knocked down by the creatures. The girls started screaming at the horror of the situation. Wilhelm, who until now had kept away, probably because he had no useful weapon, rushed ahead, swiping at the monsters with his mallet. With a couple of deft strikes he made it to the wall and proceeded to halt the tide, knocking one after another to the ground. The third of the locals joined in, hitting the creatures with a small pitchfork.
The Frenchman, who until now had been adamant about not arming the German, threw a pistol to him. He must have been carrying it somewhere inside his coat. The German caught it and with a look of familiarity cocked it and emptied several rounds into the last of the creatures along the northern aisle.
Captain Scott, pocketed the grenade thrown by Jones and emptied the full magazine from his carbine into the horde. Jones waded in, smashing his now empty Sten at the monsters before drawing his handgun and then added his fire to the Captain’s.
Even though half of the creatures were down an equal number kept pushing forwards. Archer, who had been loading more ammunition into his Bren gun stood up, the gun hanging down low to his waist and proceeded to fire from the hip. Round after round pounded into the rush, filling the porch with bone and gore. Chard, from his position at the window dropped a grenade outside; the blast came moments later and sent dust and debris in through the doorway and windows. A loud cry from outside signalled that yet more of the things were there but at least the immediate assault had been stopped.
Captain Scott looked down to see the wounded old man. M. Poulain had sustained multiple bites from the creatures and was losing blood at a rapid rate. Before the officer could even try to move him the old man reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling the soldier’s pistol to his forehead. The look on the man’s face told him exactly what he had to do. Closing his eyes for just a moment he fired a single shot from his handgun. M. Poulain, the crazy old man with the blunderbuss was dead. There was no time to grieve though as the creatures were still massing in numbers outside and more were making their way to the doorway. Moving the body up against the wall, Captain Scott approached one of the south facing windows where Chard was defending. Shouting up to him, Captain Scott passed up his grenade, which Chard deftly armed and then threw twenty feet out in front of the doorway. From the other window Jones threw out two more grenades. The men ducked down and the thuds and piles of debris announced the detonation of the devices. Chard looked back out of the window; the grenades had done their job well. At least thirty of the creatures were down, some still moving but none on their feet. Looking out further the numbers were still substantial but at least this part of the church had held.