Captain Scott moved out of the ditch to find they were near a road. In the distance he could see the flashes and tracer fire that indicated the distant battle. It was oddly comforting to see the living in battle against each other as opposed to these foul things. Behind him were several old houses and then much further back the village itself. Adrienne was closest to the collapsed tunnel when a hand pushed through the dirt, grabbing her around the neck and pulling her to the mud. Falling back screaming she knocked Madeleine over who landed flat on her back. A second, then a third arm appeared; each was filthy and covered in grime and mud and dragged the screaming Adrienne under the mud, biting and tearing as they went. Another head emerged and it was clear the undead were still there and would not stop. Madeleine tried to reach down to grab her but Jones pulled her away, just in time to avoid even more arms.
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.