“Thank you friend, this is the best information we have received in days, and gives us a direction for tomorrow.”
“Do you believe that Wilkinson is at the heart of this wickedness?” Peter asked.
“If he is the very same man I described, then I know without a doubt that he is,” replied Holmes.
“These are more than sad days, when we must fight and kill our neighbours, defend our homes with our lives and find that what friendly acquaintances we may have left here are villains,” said Peter.
“Indeed, but I have no more comforting information for you, other than my promise, that we will do all in our power to stop this. If it were not for our weariness from travel and combat, we would continue on immediately,” said Holmes.
“Then please, sit, let us share a good meal and forget the wolves at our door for just a few hours,” said Peter.
“Thank you, I wish there was some way we could pay you, but we have nothing to give,” I said.
“You have done and continue to do what is best for all of us, now let us forget money and such nonsense, and enjoy the company we have,” said Peter.
It was an offer that we could not accept quickly enough. The two of us propped our long guns up in a corner, and placed our satchels of ammunition beside them, but kept our gun belts and holsters on, this was a time where to be unarmed at any point in the day was suicide. We took seats at the table in the kitchen whilst Peter was moving the weapons from the table onto another top.
“How safe is this place from attack?” Holmes asked.
“The doors are strong and secure, and what few windows we have on the ground floor are barricaded, it has held so far,” said Peter.
The landlord, tired but eager to provide for us all, took four bottles of wine from a nearby cupboard and placed them in the centre of the table, quickly joined by glasses. It was a kind gesture, and one we could hardly refuse.
“This is not my usual standard for the inn, please accept my apologies, I must now prepare some food.”
The humble and kind man, who just ten minutes before had been a hardened defender of his home, was now scurrying around the kitchen that we sat in, preparing a meal for us. We sat for quite some time, all silent, watching Peter cook, it was the most pleasing thing to do. Peter’s son, Henry, neatly set the table before us as we sipped back on the wine. Eventually food was served, Leberkäse and Rösti, a sort of mashed and baked meat with ground potato, a basic and crude meal, but exactly what our stomachs needed.
Within a few minutes all of the plates were clean, we had all witnessed horrible events, but none of it had ruined our appetites, thankfully, because we two were on the limits of our energy. When we had finished up, Peter and his boy began clearing away, and just for that short time in the inn, we had truly relaxed.
“We must set watches for the night,” said Holmes.
“Indeed, but you are tired. I will take the first, my guests will cycle every hour, this will give you four hours rest before I call one of you to take over,” said Peter.
A wise plan, the barricades appeared well prepared by the landlord, but we still could only speculate at the enemy’s strength and capability, we would all sleep better knowing someone was on watch.
When all was done, Peter showed us upstairs to our rooms, where we were sure to take all of our weapons and ammunition before settling down, he then left us for the night. I removed my jacket and placed it upon the dresser, shortly followed by my shoulder holsters. Sitting down on my new bed, I took off my shoes and socks and sat in bliss at the relative comfort I now possessed, at least for a short while. The room was truly a wonderful place to be, and certainly the calm before the storm, it was decorated with lovely wood furniture, maintained and cleaned to such exceptional standards, this was a proud landlord.
Holmes strolled into my room and sat down on the chair beside the bed, sitting back comfortably in it, experiencing the same relief that I had. He had clearly been doing some hard thinking about our current position, for we were momentarily safe, but I knew, before long, we must set off to end this matter once and for all.
“This new information could lead to the final leg of our journey tomorrow, for whether either of these two locations lead to Moriarty, we will likely find some conclusion before the day is out,” said Holmes.
“You mean either we or him will die?” I replied.
“Indeed.”
“There are no more precautions to take, no more plans to make, we can only step into the mouth of the lion and give him hell,” said Holmes.
We did indeed face the possibility of our deaths tomorrow, but how would that make tomorrow any different than today, or yesterday? I for one would be glad to see an end to this adventure, for I was weary in every way. Our ammunition drew thin, our bodies were worn and our minds at their wits end.
“Do you believe Peter and his patrons can hold this inn?” I asked.
“No, not for more than a few hours, or against large odds,” said Holmes.
“Is there nothing we can do for them?” I asked
“Yes, we can soldier on and complete our task,” Holmes replied.
It was indeed true, the two of us could only extend the length of a potential siege, that was no good to anyone. We had left many people behind since this journey had begun, it never felt any easier, but it did re-enforce our resolve to end this villain quickly and completely.
“Let us at least get some sleep tonight, for we shall likely need all the strength we can summon tomorrow,” said Holmes.
This was music to my ears. Sleep had been all too few and far between recently, and in less than desirable settings. Now we could lay down in what at least was still internally, a lovely inn. Holmes rose to his feet and left my room for his. We both had watch duty tonight, but a few quiet hours would be wondrous. I lay down on the bed, with my shoes removed but fully dressed, I had laid my pistols on the dresser, but kept the holsters on, we could not risk being caught unawares if a fight came to us. It was just a few short moments until I was comfortably asleep.
Hours had passed of soothing sleep, when I was abruptly awoken by multiple loud gunshots. I leapt from my bed and snatched up my two Adams guns, rushing to the stairs, still barefoot. A breech in the perimeter or worse, a horde attack at this time of night was about the worst timing that could be. I reached the top of the stairs; all was silent and motionless, this was unsettling.
I stepped carefully and cautiously down each step, both revolvers held ready to fire. Reaching the bottom of the stairs I took the turn into the hallway and a pulsing light caught my eye, it was Holmes’ tobacco pipe. He stood casually looking at me, lighting his pipe in a triumphant manner. Peering behind him I could see a window smashed, its barricade half destroyed and a zombi slumped on the window sill, its blood dripping down the wall to the floor. The gaping hole that the shotgun had caused at such close range had left a whole larger than a cricket ball in the beast’s head, and you could simply peer in and see the bloodied remains of its brain.
“Any more?” I asked.
Holmes drew back on his pipe, before finally looking up at me.
“No, these were simply stragglers.”
“Then we were lucky.”