Their confidence returning, the Nazis stepped further out into the open, but they hadn’t reckoned on Barton and Jones and they were brought down by a volley from Jones who came screaming at them from out of nowhere.
No more Germans. Jones peered in through the window, but could see only a mass of prisoners inside. ‘All clear,’ he shouted to the others.
But it wasn’t clear.
Jones threw the door open, only to be mown down by several more Nazis who’d remained inside the hut, hiding amongst their captives. Jones was dead before he hit the ground.
‘Bastards!’ Barton yelled, giving away his position. He attempted a run on the hut but was driven back by still more gunfire. Wilkins tried to get to him, but he too was under attack the moment he stepped out from cover, and a handful of approaching bodies were also getting too close for comfort.
Up high, Steele tried to make sense of what was happening below him. There was another loud crackle and he saw that the weight of the advancing undead were in the process of bringing a section of the border fence down. They appeared unstoppable from this distance, and when the power to the fence was terminated, there was little left to deter them. The wire-mesh began to bow and sag under their weight, and soon it was low enough for them to trample over and escape out into the wilds. Their progress initially slowed by numbers, many more of the dead had begun to double-back towards the hut again.
‘Schnell, schnell… bekommen die Hölle hier raus!’
Faced with the imminent return of a sizeable number of the undead hordes, the few remaining Nazis made a run for it. They moved alongside innocent prisoners, using them both as cover and bait. Steele set up the Mauser again, but by the time he was ready to take a shot it was already too late. The captors were indistinguishable from their captives from up here.
He watched as Wilkins emerged from his hiding place and walked out into the open, behind the crowd of prisoners the Nazis were herding towards the castle. ‘I say,’ he shouted, ‘I think you should stop right there. We have you covered from in front, behind and above.’ He glanced over his shoulder nervously. Several of the furthest forward dead were heading in his direction, but he stood his ground. He had a few seconds yet. Steele took a couple of the nearest of them out with aces. ‘Nice shooting,’ Wilkins said under his breath.
‘Britische Abschaum Sie sterben!’ a furious Nazi officer bellowed, and he came at Wilkins with his rifle raised. His British counterpart stood his ground and refused to move. Two more Germans separated from the main group and moved closer, leaving only a couple to corral the remaining prisoners who were gathered in an uncomfortable mass in the middle of a relative ocean of space. The light was definitely improving. Wilkins scanned the crowd and, in the midst of all the faces, he caught sight of one he’d committed to memory. Doctor Egil Månsson. The Swedish scientist looked as terrified as those civilians he now stood alongside. He clutched the hand of a dishevelled little girl who appeared completely traumatised, her face devoid of all emotion.
The Nazi moved towards Wilkins, stopping only when he saw that more of the undead were creeping uncomfortably near, and when he realised that Barton was close at hand with his rifle aimed directly at him. Wilkins noted from his dress that he appeared to be a senior officer.
‘I suggest you calm down and listen to me,’ Wilkins said. ‘Are you in charge here? Rather, were you in charge here?’
‘I am Obersturmbannführer Scherler.’ His accent was strong, but his English was impeccable.
‘Obersturmbannführer, eh? That sounds mighty impressive.’
‘I run this camp, you infidel,’ Scherler screamed at him.
‘Well I hope you don’t mind me saying, you’ve not made that good a job of it.’
‘How dare you! I should kill you right now,’ the Nazi threatened.
‘How tedious. You bloody fool, there are far bigger things at stake here than you and I, do you not understand?’
‘Do you really believe any of us will be getting out of here alive?’ Scherler replied.
‘Yes I do, as it happens, and if you play ball you might make it out of here too. Now if you’ll just hand Doctor Månsson over to me I’ll…’
The doctor immediately began to protest. Wilkins couldn’t make out a damn word he was saying, but he was becoming increasingly agitated. He continued to hold onto the little girl who remained impassive; detached and unemotional. No doubt permanently scarred by the ordeal she’d endured at the hands of the Nazis here at Polonezköy.
A surge of movement from way over to the left of the group distracted Barton. Another herd of corpses, hitherto held back by a wooden gate which had given way and collapsed under their weight, made directly for the British soldier and the crowd of innocents gathered close behind. Barton opened fire on the dead immediately, and whilst many of them were felled, many more were not. The gunfire caused panic among the remaining prisoners and Nazis alike, all of them scattering in every direction like startled sheep. From relative calm to absolute chaos in seconds. The slender advantage Wilkins and the others had fought to gain was immediately undone.
A horrific scream. Over to Wilkins’ left, one of the prisoners was brought down by three of the corpses attacking at once.
To his right, a Nazi lay on his belly in the dirt being torn to pieces by more cadavers. Another had been pinned against a wall and was being disembowelled by a SS guard he’d once stood alongside.
Dead ahead, Barton was doing everything he could to protect the prisoners whilst beating back more of the advancing undead.
Obersturmbannführer Scherler made his move.
As the area descended into chaos once more, he ran for cover, pushing Doctor Månsson ahead of him at gun point. In the confusion Månsson had let the little girl go. He screamed for her to follow him but she appeared catatonic. There was nothing any of them could do to stop her being swallowed up by the rotting hordes.
Wilkins knew what he had to do. ‘Barton, get these innocent people to safety, then get to the rendezvous point and tell Captain Hunter I’m on my way. And hurry, we’ve barely any time!’
Barton did as he was ordered, ushering those prisoners still at hand back into the shack where they’d previously been held at gunpoint. He paused only to dispatch four more Nazis – three already dead, one who’d still been alive – before shutting the civilians inside and leaving them with as many guns as he could quickly lay his hands on. ‘I don’t know if you can understand a single word I’m saying, but stay here. We’ll send help. You’ll not be left here long.’
He closed the door and ran for the hole in the border fence as Wilkins had ordered.
27
The Nazi’s boots echoed off the walls of the castle tower. He’d used an entrance hitherto unseen, but the noise Obersturmbannführer Scherler made as he barked orders and abuse at Doctor Månsson left Wilkins in no doubt as to where he was heading.
Wilkins skidded around a corner to see the Nazi just ahead. He ducked back under cover as the German officer fired at him, one bullet hitting the wall above his head, showering him with dust and debris.
‘There’s no way out, Fritz,’ Wilkins shouted, but the German was in no mood to capitulate.
‘You are right. There’s no way out for any of us, you British fool. We are all going to die here today.’
‘I told you, it doesn’t have to be this way.’
‘I rather think it does.’