“It seems the second wave is arriving,” he said.
Captain Scott pointed at the light in the distance and the substantial amounts of tracer fire that blasted through the sky. Sergeant Smith swore, and then looked back inside the church.
“We don’t have enough ammunition to stop another attack. Even if those guys are ours they could take half a day to get here, assuming they aren’t stopped by these things,” he said.
Gunfire erupted to the east of the church, the sounds coming from the chancel. Smith cocked his Sten gun and moved for the stairs, speaking briefly to the Captain.
“I’ll check on Jones, he said he found something in the basement, maybe it could help.”
Captain Scott nodded and followed him downstairs. Upon entering the ground level of the tower it was clear that the gunfire wasn’t sporadic, it was time for yet another attack. Jones ran over to the two after spotting the signal from Smith. More gunfire started from the tower and also in the nave. Smith shouted to make himself heard.
“We need to fall back, can we use the basement?”
Jones considered his question for a few seconds, looking back to the entrance to the basement area.
“There’s lots of space but the only way out is through the locked gate. If we can blow it we can see where it goes.”
Before any decision could be made the blocked doorway to the south ripped open again to reveal at least twenty of the undead who staggered inside. Archer opened up with the Bren and the battle continued its bloody progress.
Captain Scott continued.
“Take what you need and get down there, we’ll hold here as long as we can.”
Jones saluted uncomfortably, forgetting for a moment that the officer was American then rushed to the ladder that led to the basement. Scott and Smith looked around, the defence was solid but for how long? Scott pointed to the chancel and Smith rushed back to his original position to assist Clarke and the French resistance fighter still fighting near the altar. Captain Scott kept himself placed firmly in the centre of the nave, he wanted to see exactly what was happening and this was the best spot. Archer had decimated the undead at the doorway but more fire was needed to stop anymore reaching the open space inside. The Captain was now out of ammunition for his rifle and dropped it so he could make use of the capture MP40 given to him earlier. Holding down the trigger the friendly clatter of its mechanism left him feeling confident, especially as one after another of the undead dropped to the ground. He could see movement to his left as Smith and Clarke fought a number of the undead in hand to hand combat. Another of the creatures was on top of what looked like the French resistance fighter. He aimed carefully and emptied a short bust into the creature, throwing it up against the wall. He couldn’t quite see if the young man was still alive.
Back in the tower Trent was starting to panic. He’d just used his last magazine and the number of undead seemed to be growing by the minute. Outside were hundreds and hundreds of them, all heading towards the door and windows of the church. Abandoning his position he dumped his rifle and ran down the stairs to find the desperate defenders fighting off the monsters at every wall in the church. All the windows of the tower along the ground floor were smashed and arms and heads were trying to force themselves in. Part of the stone frame around the tall windows on the north of the nave collapsed under what must have been the immense pressure of scores for the undead. Their bodies collapsed inside and on top of them followed dozens more. The northern wall had amazingly been breached and the creatures streamed in.
Chard, who until now had been treating the injured Humphreys and Wilks, turned his fire on the horde. Before they could even attempt to stand the three men were hit by the avalanche of undead. Wilks was torn apart whilst Chard leapt over the pew and grabbed at the large statue of Saint Michael, trying to get a purchase on the body to lift him up. Chard stumbled backwards towards Archer and fell flat on his back. Archer, who was still blazing away at the creatures working their way through the porch entrance of the south didn’t even notice him fall. The remaining resistance fighter stepped out in front of the retreating Chard and emptied a full magazine from the Sten gun. None of them managed to reach him but that was his last clip. Throwing the weapon down he drew out his pistol, a lightweight standard issue Pistole Revolveur Modele 1892. Popularly referred to as either the 'Lebel' or 'model d'Ordonnance' it resembled the British Webley but fired six 8mm rounds. He aimed carefully and squeezed off a couple of rounds, each once striking firmly into the bodies of the enemy.
At the altar Sergeant Smith held down one of the undead onto the heavy table. His Sten was on the ground, now empty and effectively useless. Reaching around he grabbed at his pig sticker bayonet, ripped it out and stabbed it down hard into the monster’s forehead. It stopped moving almost immediately. Clarke was the only other man left and even he was low on ammunition for his Enfield. As more undead climbed in through the windows they started to retreat to the nave. With a cry one of the things pulled at Clarke, dragging him down. He dropped his rifle but Smith grabbed it and swung it hard into the creature before it could sink its teeth into Clarke’s defenceless throat. Helping the man up they turned and ran into the hell that was the nave.
All the survivors in the church now made their desperate way to the tower. Archer, now standing kept firing as best as he could but even the Bren couldn’t stop them all. A small group of the undead blocked their line of retreat only for Humphreys and the German soldier to leap at them, striking with their weapons and clubbing them to the ground. The last of them managed to take another bite out of Humphreys who collapsed in pain to the ground. He tried to get up but another two creatures appeared and fell on him, biting and tearing at his body.
Under the church the small group of civilians cowered in fear. The sound of the battle had turned from masses of gunfire to the sounds of shouting and running. Whatever was going on it didn’t sound good. The trapdoor opened and the soldiers started throwing themselves down. The first to make it was Trent, quickly followed by Harris and then Captain Scott. More gunfire ensued as Archer covered the rest as they climbed down. His shooting saved them as his controlled accuracy made the best use of each .303 bullet. None of the undead could get close as he fired round after round into them. The last man to make it to the trapdoor was Smith who swung down inside, pulling Archer behind him.
Jones pulled the door down tight and slammed the large metal bolt across the hatch from inside. They were now in darkness, with the only light coming from the torches that the old man had lit prior to them all moving to this place. Above their heads they could hear the sound of the monsters, each one either trying to find the survivors or perhaps picking over the bodies of the wounded or dead that had been left in the church.
Jones and Smith dragged a number of the large containers over to the hatch to block it from underneath. It would help but not for long. Captain Scott headed towards the spot that Jones had described to examine the locked gate. Just as he had feared the gate and lock were incredibly strong and would not break just by hitting or pulling at them with tools.
Smith came over and examined the metal, he whispered to the officer.
“We need something more powerful for this.”
Jones, who was nearby looked lost in thought, before moving over to the tools resting against the wall. He moved back to the Captain, carrying the weapon on his shoulder.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier, this is the Panzerfaust!”
“Fuck me Jones, how could you forget that?” called out Sergeant Smith.