There was no time for mourning. The dead man dropped Hughes, already forgotten, and took another pace up the corridor. Banks stepped up quickly, put the barrel of his weapon in the German’s left ear and fired, three rounds that should have blown the head apart. The reaction wasn’t as conclusive as Banks had hoped, and he only managed to blow a fist-sized hole where the ear had been, sending red-tainted shards of ice flying, but it was enough to drop the officer to the ground. Banks kicked the dead man’s head for good measure and immediately regretted it — it felt like kicking a solid piece of ice-cold stone.
He kept an eye on the other dead Germans, but none moved to attack him as he bent and with his left hand grabbed Hughes’ collar and dragged the dead weight back toward the rest of the squad.
He saw that Wilkes was struggling with another of the dead Germans, with Patel trying desperately to wrench a cold blue hand from Wilkes’ left arm. Sergeant Hynd had obviously seen how Banks dealt with the German officer. The sergeant stepped up and put three rounds into the German’s ear. The body fell to the floor like a sack of cold rocks.
The ranks of the dead took another step toward them, stepping up to stand just behind where the dead Oberst lay on the ground.
“Fall back,” Banks shouted again, and this time, the squad was all able to comply. Cally and Parker took charge of Hughes and dragged him away while Banks, Wiggins, and Hynd covered Wilkes and Patel. Wilkes looked pale and pained, but was able to walk, and brushed away Patel’s helping hand.
“Stop being a bloody auld woman,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Banks checked the corridor as they backed away toward the hangar.
The cold dead stood still and unmoving behind the two toppled bodies on the ground. The oberst twitched, twice, then, as if doing a press-up, pushed himself up off the floor. The movements were slow and stiff, almost stylized, but ten seconds later, the officer was standing upright at the front of the ranks of the dead.
Banks knew that the oberst had been shot in the left eye — he’d seen the crater for himself. But when the officer looked up and stared along the corridor, it was with two pale, milky eyes, each as round and iced over as the other. *
The squad backed away fast toward the hangar. When they reached the double door and went through, Wiggins moved to close the doors behind them.
“No, leave it. I want to see those bastards coming,” Banks said. “Leave the doors open, but barricade the entrance with tables, chairs, whatever you can find lying around here. It’s deep into injury time and we’re one-nil down, lads. We make our stand here, or not at all.”
“You heard the captain,” Hynd shouted. “Arseholes and elbows, get a fucking move on.”
Wiggins, Parker, and McCally moved quickly to drag tables over and overturn them in the doorway, stacked such that they blocked the entrance up to almost head height, and were jammed tight between the walls of the tunnel just in front of the doorway, holding the doors open.
McCally put his shoulder against the barricade, testing its strength. It didn’t give, and he turned to give Banks an okay sign with thumb and forefinger. Banks stepped forward and looked over. He had a clear view down the length of the corridor. Far down in the shadows, almost at the limit of what he could make out in the dark, the ranks of dead Germans still stood where they had left them, the tall oberstleutnant at their front. As yet, they showed no inclination to come any closer.
Banks called McCally, Wiggins, and Parker over.
“You three are up first. Keep an eye on the buggers, Cally. If they so much as twitch, shout.”
“Twitch? They’re already fucking dead, Cap,” Wiggins replied. “How the fuck are they up and moving?”
Banks knew they all had questions — he had plenty of his own, but he had no answers to give them, and turned away to see to Hughes, fearing the worst. Hynd was bent over the fallen man and turned at Banks’ approach. He shook his head and confirmed what Banks already knew.
“He was gone as soon as that fucker broke his neck,” the sarge said.
“Poor sod,” Banks replied. “No more, do you hear me, Sarge? One down is one too many.”
Hynd nodded, and Banks helped him drag Hughes’ body over to rest sitting upright against the wall near the door. Banks closed the private’s eyes before turning away, relieved in a way to see that there had been a dead stare looking back at him, and not a pair of milky marbles.
“We should maybe watch him,” Hynd said, keeping his voice low so that the three at the doorway wouldn’t hear him. Patel, who was helping Wilkes out of his jacket and flack vest, heard it clear enough though, and let out a harsh laugh.
“He’s hardly going to get up and walk, is he?” he said.
Hynd replied first.
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about, lad. You saw those fuckers out in the corridor, and you know they were dead fuckers themselves when we saw them earlier. So, we watch Hughes, and we watch him close, until we’re sure.”
Patel looked like he might reply, then looked like Banks felt, that there were no words, no questions that made any kind of sense here. All chat stalled as Wilkes finally got stripped off enough that they saw what had happened to his arm. A black handprint, as livid as any tattoo, curled around his biceps. When Banks moved closer, he saw that the skin itself was dead and crisp, as if it had been burned rather than frozen. Wilkes winced as he flexed the arm, all color draining from his face, and livid red cracks appeared in the wound, like volcanic fissures in a lava field.
“Don’t do that, lad,” Banks said. “You’re not helping. Let Patel get you bandaged up. We’re going to need you and your gun at the barricade.”
“It hurts like a fucking burn, Cap,” Wilkes said. “Here’s a wee tip for all of you. Don’t let one of these buggers near you.”
Hynd answered first again.
“Aye, we get that. And you saw how Cap here put the officer down. Don’t let them touch you, but get close enough to plug them in the noggin. That seems to be the only way to stop them.”
“Stop them? Did we do that, Sarge? Are they stopped?” Patel asked. This time, it was Hynd who didn’t have the answers.
Banks left Patel and the sarge to tend to Wilkes’ wound. He checked with McCally and got a shake of the head in reply — all was still quiet in the corridor. He reluctantly turned his attention to the thing he’d been trying to avoid ever since they’d returned to the hangar — the impossible saucer at their backs, silently hovering six inches off the floor. It looked like he could step over and push it with a finger to get it moving, but although he didn’t know much, he knew that would be a spectacularly bad idea in a day full of plenty of bad ideas already.
He didn’t move too close to the saucer. There was too much heat radiating from the glowing golden lines on the floor for one thing, and, for another thing, he felt the tug of the dark places between the stars, felt the call of that strange hypnotic dance that had taken him under its spell. It was seductive, far too much so. He’d lost one man here already, and if he gave in to the needs of the saucer, he was liable to lose even more, if not them all.