“Why not lay in wait for this man and ambush him?” Jacob asked.
“Because Moriarty has let his foul scheme loose upon England. If we kill him, we doom our home country, a curse which will likely spread quickly to the Continent and beyond. We must discover the root of his foul deeds and find a way to revert it, or at least destroy all sources. Additionally, we must destroy whatever means or information he has in his possession to create such a disaster, so that no other can repeat his actions in the future,” Holmes said.
“Then lead the way and point our guns in the correct direction, for you know what has to be done and we are but soldiers now in your army,” Cyril replied.
Our next port of call would be Strasburg. Now satisfied that we were at least as best equipped as we could be, we set out of Cyril’s home, and onto the next part of our adventure. It was satisfying to now be leading a body of able and equipped men, though it was still a tiny force to be confronting such evil.
CHAPTER FIVE
Upon arriving in Strasburg on the Monday morning Holmes had telegraphed to the London police, and in the evening we found a reply waiting for us at our hotel. Holmes tore it open, and then with a bitter curse hurled it into the grate.
“The south of England, beyond London has fallen.” “All of it?”
“The authorities have established a perimeter around
the south of central London and called the militias and Yeomanry to arms. I think that you had better return to England, Watson.”
“Why?”
“Because you will find me a dangerous companion now,” said Holmes.
“Whilst I live, this man’s occupation is gone. He is lost if he returns to London. If I read his character right he will devote all his energies to revenging himself upon me. He said as much in our short interview, and I fancy that he meant it. I should certainly recommend you to return to England with the knowledge you have and do your best to defend our homeland.”
It was hardly an appeal to be successful with one who was an old campaigner as well as an old friend. We sat in the Strasburg salle-à-manger drinking tea, whilst I calculated a way to stay with Holmes, for as dangerous as it was to stay with him it was far more dangerous for him to be without me.
“I am sure our countrymen will discover the facts as we did soon enough, sooner than I can deliver such information to them. You are on a mission which potentially the world’s existence relies upon, and with only seven men in total, you cannot afford to lose a single one,” I said.
We sat arguing the point for twenty minutes before Holmes finally accepted that I posed a better asset to our country here with him than I did at home. All of Moriarty’s efforts were clearly being placed into ending Holmes’ life, whilst Holmes was the only man who possessed the knowledge of the villain we faced and therefore the capability to end him.
The seven of us sat quietly now around the table drinking tea, still armed for war, no man daring to ask our purpose. The group was clearly uneasy as a day had passed with no evidence of the danger and horrors that we had spoken of. Clearly John and Jacob began to question the situation and the others felt it, though nobody spoke of it.
It was a sad state of affairs when war was at our own country’s door. Despite the telegram the men remained uneasy about accepting our account of events, not at all concerned for the fears that lay ahead because they had yet to see them with their own eyes. Finishing his drink, Holmes spoke up.
“It is time to move on gentlemen, to Geneva.”
“And what of England, would you leave our country to burn?” snarled Jacob.
It was clear he had been festering on this situation for some time, and it was understandable, all common sense would suggest we head home, but Holmes and I knew otherwise.
“I takeoffence by your tone sir, and yet fully understand your reasoning,” said Holmes.
“Then why continue on?” asked Jacob.
“Because going home will only lead to a battle which ultimately cannot be won, going forwards to the root of the cause and ending it is the only solution.” Holmes said.
“And you are sure of this?”
“As sure as any man has ever been of any course of action in war,” I said.
Jacob fell silent, he was winning no support from his friends, despite all of them sharing his concerns. Fortunately, they all supported Cyril, and he continued to support us, a fortunate fact for all of us.
The men finished up, bored of the inaction and glad to be getting onto something. As we began to get up from our chairs, screaming rang out from just a few hundred yards down the fairly busy street. All of our company leapt from our positions, rifles in hand. The sound of screaming people was likely to mean only one thing, we now had a fight on our hands.
Civilians were running in our direction in panic, this could not be coincidence. Being the only people heading towards the centre of the troubles we had to drive through panicked masses. Despite not wanting a fight upon our hands, it was perhaps the best answer in securing the loyalty and trust of the men.
Getting a hundred yards through the crowd Cyril, who was at the front of our band came to an abrupt halt, clearly shocked by what lay before him. A hoard of bodies was ambling towards us, recognisable as enemies to us and to Cyril from our descriptions. The now familiar drone or hum of the horde, blood dripping from their disgusting jaws and congealed blood staining their clothes, was upon us. In the light of day it was clear to all that these beasts were not human and meant us only grievous harm, that much was evident by their current actions, none now hesitated.
One of the villains at the front was attacking a policeman on the floor who was desperately trying to fight back with his truncheon. Not wasting any further time to assess the situation, Cyril took aim with his rather excellent new Mosin Nagant 1891 model, a rifle which like the Schmidt-Rubin I had read great things about but not experienced firsthand. Before he could take his first shot the creature lunged at the man on the floor and bit into his neck, wrenching out a chunk of flesh. The truncheon fell from the man’s grasp as his hands cupped his throat, trying to stop the inevitable death that would ensue.
Not hesitating any further, Cyril let off the first round, aiming for the head as we had informed all of the men to do so. It struck perfectly at the skull, bursting out through the back of the head and causing the creature to immediately go limp and topple over the dying policeman.
“Form on me!” barked Matthey.
The band of gentleman resembling a militia lined up and immediately took aim as Matthey racked the bolt of his Mosin Nagant with perfect precision and timing.
“Fire at will!”
The group opened fire in perfect time, releasing a volley in to the ensuing mass of creatures, powder smoke swept across the street and the arid smell of sulphur surrounded us. Two of the creatures were immediately struck through the skull. One shot pierced an eye socket, whilst another skimmed a skull, revealing it to the fresh air but causing no severe damage. The two shotgun rounds created a bloody mess of the faces they hit, ripping flesh from the skulls, though one kept moving forwards. For a moment Cyril’s group paused to see the effects of our fire, but not Holmes and I. We immediately cocked and racked our weapons, releasing the next shot whilst they still gazed in astonishment. The volley had knocked just three creatures to the ground, whilst the horde was unaffected by the fire, an experience that is fearful for any soldier.