I had to wrap my wounds, both to stop the bleeding, but also to save myself from infection; both normal and zombi. At the same time, thick bindings would only restrict my hold of weapons. Thin bandages would make holding any weapons painful, but pain was eminently preferable to death. My jacket sleeves were snagged and ripped from catching on glass and broken wood, but they had served exactly the purpose desired when Holmes insisted on us keeping our jackets on. Holmes was the very reason I was now still here and alive, and I could only wish he was either still safe or victorious.
Getting to my feet, I put my sword belt back around my waist and took my rifle in hand, following Peter to the stairway. The three patrons were there waiting, they had thrown several doors into the stairwell and weighted them down with as much furniture as they could find. It was a fairly strong barricade, providing someone kept watch over it.
“Come with me,” I said to landlord.
Peter was a sensible man, he evidently wanted me to take charge of the situation, but he was now going to be my right hand man, and rightly so, he was the most capable of all here. I led him to a room away from the hearing distance of the others so that we could discuss a plan in peace. Settling in the room that Holmes and I had spoken just the night before, we both sat to discuss the serious matter at hand.
“Is the entire building surrounded?” I asked. “Yes, absolutely, my boy only got free because the horde was far fewer and we were able to cover him whilst he ran like the wind.”
“Then we cannot run, we must choose between staying here and waiting, hoping for some relief, or fighting our way out.”
“Will relief ever come?” asked Peter.
“Not likely, the last soldiers we met were in as much trouble as us.”
“Then we fight.”
“Agreed.”
It was nice to have a practical man to assist me.
“Firstly, we must establish if the horde has reached a peak or if it continues to grow. Go and check in all directions, we must know if more come to the fight or not.”
“It isn’t likely, this place has a small population, as do the surrounding villages, there cannot be many more,” he said.
“Still, let us be certain, from these upper windows, check in all directions, see if more come to join the fight.”
Peter rushed off, but was soon back in a matter of minutes. No more gunfire had sounded since we left the other men at the stairs, the barricade was evidently holding for now. Peter returned and sat back down.
“A couple of stragglers, but this appears to be it,” he said.
“What do you estimate the total number of beasts to be in and around the building?”
“Perhaps a hundred or more,” said Peter.
I sat for a few minutes, but it felt much longer. This was a desperate situation to be in, but sitting around waiting helped no one, not least ourselves. I needed to get to Holmes’ aid, and these people needed to have the threat to their lives removed, action was needed to solve both problems.
“Then this is a numbers game, we have a number of weapons and a safe position to use them from, if we have more ammunition than they have numbers, the fight is ours. How much ammunition do you have?” I asked.
“About thirty rounds for the rifle, maybe a similar number for the shotguns,” Peter replied.
I took my satchel off and emptied it and my pockets onto the bed, forty eight rounds for the rifle, thirty six for the Adams.
“Do you have the hand weapons up here?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“How good a shot are you?”
“As good as any soldier,” replied Peter.
“Then here is the plan, exchange your shotgun for the rifle, and we will cull our attackers until we are out of ammunition. Every round will count, so take your time, only fire at static targets that you are confident of hitting, always to the head, get the rifle and meet me at the front rooms.”
Peter went off to the stairs, whilst I took my rifle in hand and moved to the front bedrooms. I gathered up all of the ammunition I had placed on the bed and loaded it into the satchel, which I took in hand. I now wished we had tried a little harder to persuade those soldiers to join us here, for they were likely on a course of suicide in Interlaken, when they could have been a saving grace here.
Getting to the window of a front room I laid down the satchel on the floor at the foot of the frame and swung the glass open; the mass of foes below was a disgusting site. Blood, fresh and congealed mess covered their foul jaws, still dripping onto their clothing. The sound of the window caused a number to look up at my position, I was glad to have the high ground. Taking aim at the first who looked at me, its jaw opened and eyes widened in aggression. My rifle had ten shots left in the magazine, a squeeze later it was nine, and one less beast. Footsteps rung out behind me as Peter rushed to the room, rifle in hand.
“As I said, choose your shots carefully, we must not waste any more ammunition than necessary. Also, we must avoid shooting to the same target, therefore, you only fire at targets right of the doorway below us, whilst I will fire at those to the left. We should have enough rounds between these two rifles to clear the worst of them,” I said.
Peter nodded and with no further ado opened a nearby window and took aim with his rifle. I observed him for just a moment, a second after shouldering the rifle he had acquired his target and fired, hitting just off centre to the skull, creating a satisfying hole in to the beast’s brain and sending it lifelessly down into the crowd. I was glad to see him control his breathing well and aim and fire in the shortest order and most efficient manner. Good, he was as capable as I had hoped.
What ensued was a bloodthirsty butchering, one that would make any man feel sick, saved only by the knowledge of what these foul creatures were and what they would do to us. I had fired thirty four rounds and was about to reload when a shotgun rang out behind me, I turned.
“Peter!” a man called from the stairs.
Dropping my empty rifle to the floor I drew the two Adams guns and rushed to the stairs. As it came in sight I could see one of the men at the top of the stairs firing both barrels of his shotgun, they were both out. I reached the stairs alongside him where one beast had nearly reached the top, the barricade forced half open. I kicked the creature in the face, knocking it back to the barricade. I fired the Adams, more shots than I would have liked to use up.
I kept firing at every target I could see, fabric parts ripping and blood spurting from various wounds. I killed perhaps four with all the rounds in my guns, whilst the further rounds at least served to hold them back.
“Close the barricade!” I shouted.
The four men rushed to the barricade, but new creatures were already forcing against the opening that was clogged by their dead. I dropped the Adams guns to the floor and drew my cavalry sabre, taking a few paces closer to the obstacles I drove the hilt in to the nearest beast’s face before cutting down on to its skull. Peter was forcing the battered doors of the barricade down towards the wall but a creature’s hand was firmly grasping it. I smashed the pommel down onto the beast’s fingers four times until they were broken and mangled, blood splattered across the wood, causing it to loosen its grip.