“Thank you John, for being straight with me. As much as I wouldn’t wish this mess on anyone, I am glad to have been forewarned and be at the front of the fight withyou.”
Friendship was the only strength we had left in the world, and it could be our saving grace. Moriarty had his brainless monsters, but we upstanding Englishmen had our honour, duty, respect and decency, and that strength had kept our country and countrymen safe for hundreds of years. It would hold strong against a devious scoundrel, no matter how intelligent.
In the distance we could hear our train roaring towards us, it would be a long journey to Geneva, time for rest, to regain our strength, in body and mind. The train came into sight, but we did not move from the bench, expelling any energy unnecessarily was the last of our desires, laziness not even being a consideration in these circumstances.
Finally the train came to a halt, with our sentries still keeping an eye on either side of the platform. It was empty, thankfully, the last thing we needed were more civilians to get in the way of any potential combat.
Boarding the train all seven of us piled into one compartment, which seated eight but not comfortably, yet safety in numbers was the priority of the day. Every man sat, weapons still in hand, all knowing that safety was not totally provided until the locomotive was on its way to Geneva. All of us sat there for what felt like an age, until finally we began to move.
All of the group, content to be in a safe position, now slumped in their seats. We were exhausted from all of our adventures, but these men had to deal with our troubles after a day of work and heavy drinking, they were as exhausted as we were. We lay there desperately awaiting the train to set off, waiting impatiently, sweat dripping from our powder stained faces, in part from physical exertion and part from the high stress of the situation. No man could relax now, not yet. At last the train began to start our journey.
Jacob looked pale, he was feeling sorry for himself, still bleeding from the wound despite the wrap he had placed around it, there was little else I could do for him on this occasion. All the men lay back in their seats to sleep, all but Holmes, who was as alert as a pointer on a hunt. I did not understand his insistence on being so wide awake when sleep was essential to our combat effectiveness, though I was glad to have him watching over us.
With my rifle propped against my side, and with little room to move, having so many men filling the compartment, I rested my head as best as possible and quickly fell asleep. The sleep was troubled, but far from unwelcome. My dreams wandered from scene to scene, from the battle of Maiwand to the open plains of southern England, and back to the horrors of recent battles. A few hours into the sleep I was abruptly and shockingly awoken by a shot ringing out that deafened me and caused me to jump in shock. I looked around quickly to assess the situation, still dazed from being awakened so quickly. Smoke vented from Holmes’ shotgun, blood was splattered throughout the compartment, across much of our clothes and up to the ceiling. Jacob’s head had almost entirely erupted from the shot; the body laid lifeless, blood pouring down the upholstery. Holmes, shotgun in one hand, drew back upon the pipe protruding from his mouth, quite relaxed.
“Holmes! Please explain yourself immediately!” Cyril shouted.
“We now understand how these creatures expand their number in such a short period of time,” Holmes replied.
“Go on, and do not speak in riddles,” Cyril rightfully said.
“Jacob was bitten by a creature, his blood contaminated by theirs. He deteriorated quickly over a matter of hours, becoming pale, weak, as if dying, no symptoms of a flesh wound such as he received, until I finally saw him draw his last breath, and then return to this world as something completely different and unfriendly.”
Holmes had seen the very real fact that we had all ignored, perhaps subconsciously, not willing to accept the terrible reality of what he was saying. These creatures aimed to kill all among them, but those that survived, but injured from them, became them. No wonder the south of England had fallen at such a rate. Holmes’ cold heartedness was not warming him to our new friends, but they were quickly realising that he had our best interests at heart, even if his means and manner were ungentlemanly.
No one responded to Holmes’ words, not even me, everyone now truly understood our situation. As a doctor I had entertained the fact that disease through physical contact was a possibility, though the fact that our contact with the beasts had not resulted in infection had removed that possibility from my mind. Clearly we had not shared bodily fluid with the beasts and therefore not been infected by their disease. This reality made our task more of a mountain than it already was, and we all wondered if England could even survive such an outbreak.
All the men relaxed, uncomfortably accepting the situation, but all thinking about it carefully. The question remained though, were the first beasts we faced controlled or merely pushed in the right direction? The first beasts appeared to be specifically targeting Holmes, and yet all after had been attacking indiscriminately, rather implying two separate categories of beast. Perhaps those infected by those controlled became uncontrolled beasts, whilst those initially created by whatever means were carefully controlled or directed. It was a rather loose and farfetched theory, but the best I could assemble this late in the day.
So what now? The whole band of gentleman was thinking deeply about what we were doing and how we would save ourselves and all others from this nightmare. We had got far, and Holmes was quick to point out that this new knowledge not only explained a lot of what we had seen, but also showed how dangerous the following days would be.
“This is a horrible deed Holmes, and yet, I understand your reason, if not your cold emotions and manner in handling the situation. We must carefully consider our next actions,” said Matthey.
If the newly infected creatures were not controlled by Moriarty, we had to consider the possibility that ending him or his means of creation would not necessarily end the attack of the hordes. This now left us with two problems of equal proportion. The monsters, now spread across Europe, had to be killed in their entirety as well as all they infected, whilst Moriarty must be stopped in order to prevent further creatures being manifested. The group discussed this matter for some time, until Holmes asked for quiet, having reached the best conclusion.
“We are just six men in a cross country war, we can do little to assist the authorities of the countries involved. However, we are perhaps the only men who understand the root cause of this war and how to prevent it developing or re-kindling in the future, assuming the sovereign states can survive.”
“Then we soldier on to our task, only hoping that the countries in our wake can manage theirs?” Cyril asked.
“It is the only solution that presents itself which achieves some useful result and assists the world in the best way possible,” Holmes replied.
“Agreed,” said Cyril.
“Understand this gentleman, we now face a conflict the likes the world has not ever known. No standing army, declarations of war, loyalty nor uniforms, we fight an enemy from within our own countries. You can either fight and die in a stand-up fight, or come with us, and strike at the heart of the problem.”
The four men looked at each other, mildly shocked by the grim reality which had been laid before them in such brief but informative words.