Post by ryokowerx on Dec 27, 2011 9:04:31 GMT -5
Lieutenant Matthew Shrieve stared skyward at the dark rolling clouds and the peal of distant thunder. A flash of lightning followed shortly afterwards. Flying weather had been a-okay when they had taken off. Must be one of those weird storms that could brew up so quickly. Nothing that should affect their mission though.
His thoughts of reassurance were for himself alone but they could all feel the electricity building in the air, the faint tingle of the air, a deathly silence only broken by the rumble of their engines and an ominous feeling that something just wasn’t right. The instinctive fear that they were out of their ken and tottering on the brink of the unknown. Monsters or not, even they could fear the darkness.
Weird War Tales: Stare Not Into the Abyss
Part Five of Five
Written by James Stubbs
Krestler stared up in horror as Major Kluge’s chest erupted into so many bloody holes as the American’s fire put an end to the madman. First the cold blooded murder of a woman and now shooting a man in the back. This war was insane. Had no one any honor?
The captain scrabbled away with a yelp of terror when a eerie blue mist began to seep from the sides of the Kluge’s dead eyes and a mocking laugh echoed hollowly from his blood-flecked lips. Jeb pumped more bullets into the corpse to little effect other than the further desecration of dead flesh.
Nimue was on her feet with her hand still clutched at her blood soaked chest. “The separation between this world and the spirit world has been broken” she said “His life force was the only thing holding it back. There are things in the other world that want to come over and now they freely can.”
Blackhawk had snatched his pistol out of Krestler’s belt but stood uncertain at what to do. His hands were steady but you could see the fear creeping into his darting eyes. Ghosts of old fliers were one thing but now the living dead wanted to kill them all.
“Mein Gott!” Krestler screamed as the dead guard, Eichmann and Viktor also began to stir from the places where they had fallen, the same freakish blue glow surrounding the now animated cadavers.
“Get your gun, Captain!” Jeb yelled “We’ve got to kill these things!”
Krestler scrambled for Kluge’s discarded pistol like a man grasping for life itself. Jeb spared a second to look at him. Krestler was on the verge of shellshock. No sane man should believe his eyes right now but it was happening. It was only his association with the General and Nimue that had somewhat steeled him for this.
“We’ve got to destroy the Eye, Jeb!” Nimue yelled “It’s the doorway!”
“Krestler! Grab…” Jeb began to yell but Nimue cut him off.
“No! Don’t touch it!” she screamed.
Blackhawk’s pistol finally spoke and buried a heavy slug into the guard now regaining its feet. Other than likewise messing up the body further, it had no effect on the lumbering body. Bart Hawk stopped again, unsure as to what to do next.
General Stuart came through the wall, his snorting steed cantering sideways as the old warhorse brandished his ghostly saber. “I’ll hold ‘em off Jeb m’ boy! Just git rid o’ that confounded rock!” Jeb swore he could smell a waft of black powder and hear distant bugle calls but right now that old rebel was the best sight he had ever seen.
Jeb dove for the Eye underneath the stomping hooves of the General’s horse. He had no fear of being trampled but the things in the dead men certainly did not share his confidence as they backed away from the mount and the apparition with the sword who swung his weapon with such wild abandon, “Our Dixie forever! She's never at a loss! Down with the eagle and...” Stuart sang fiercely from his saddle. The man could belt Yankee Doodle for all Jeb cared as long as he was saving all their bacon.
The Eye was where it had fallen and Jeb was able to scoop it up into his helmet without touching it. He found himself near where Krestler was frozen in place and grabbed the man’s arm. “Time to go!” Jeb yelled and yanked the man to his feet. Blackhawk was suddenly at their side, the two men flanking the officer with weapons leveled at undying enemies.
The battle had gotten woollier and the way they had come in was now blocked by a mass of clutching grasping bodies. “Up this way!” Nimue yelled from the bottom of a staircase she had found. With the Eye rattling around in his steel pot like a Mexican jumping bean, Jeb and Blackhawk hauled Krestler up the stairs after her as several of the dead began to lumber in their direction after realizing that the old ghost wasn’t hurting them no matter how many times he ran them through with his saber.
“Krestler!” Jeb yelled. “These are not your men anymore. Shoot to kill!” Even Jeb knew that these things wouldn’t die that easily but maybe they could hold them off long enough. He thrust his helmet at Nimue. “See if you can find a way to break this thing,” he implored. “We’re running out of time.”
The German gulped and swallowed hard before putting a slug into what was once Eichmann. The bullet riddled body was thrown back down the stairs, limbs flopping like a discarded child’s doll, but immediately began to regain its feet, Eichmann’s head lolling grotesquely from the now broken neck. Jeb sprayed the stairwell with his gun sending the rest thumping back down from the impacts as well. The magazine ran dry with a loud click.
Blackhawk squeezed off two more shots. “Lieutenant, we’re going to run out of ammo at this rate,“ he warned. “Hold them off. I’m going to go see if I can’t find else to fight with. This place is full of old stuff, maybe we can find swords or something.”
Jeb watched the pilot go and prepared to use the empty gun as a club before his own tommy gun was thrust into his hands. “Your weapon, lieutenant,” Krestler smiled grimly, having regained his composure if not a steady voice. “If we are to die I wish to do so fighting.”
“That’s fine, Captain,” Jeb shot back as he drew back the charging bolt. “But I don’t intend on buying the farm just yet.”
Easy Company:
Easy sucked dirt as they came under fire as they broke into a sudden clearing. Of all the damned luck, Rock groused. This hadn’t been on the map and who would’ve known it’d be a damned tank staging area. At least the main force doesn’t appear to be at home. Maintenance crews and guards took cover and fired at the blundering Americans.
“Return fire!” he yelled thinking how stupid it was to say that given the circumstances. “Make ‘em count!”
A throaty roar cut the din as some enterprising Germans turned one of the turret machine guns on the top of a broken down tank on his soldiers. Rock clamped his helmet down to his head and tried to become one with Mother Earth. Screams and cries for the medic assailed his ears and he clenched his teeth.
A rocket streaked out from their lines and exploded the tank, raining deadly shrapnel amongst the Germans. Long Round had gotten their number. Lightning crashed from the strange clouds overhead and thunder almost drowned out the sounds of the firefight. War called on account of rain he wished.
Hands suddenly wrapped around his throat and he quickly rolled over to bring his own hands into play before the choker could get a firmer grip on him. It was Private Hill, eerily glowing eyes and bullet riddled torso leering down at him. Screams and curses in both German and English reached his ears. Rock grabbed its head and jammed both thumbs into its eyes. He had learned this from a Brit commando. It wasn’t fair. Hell, it was downright dirty fighting. Both eyeballs gave way and a numbing cold began to seep into his hands as they were bathed in the mist.
“Jesus!” he yelled and drew his legs underneath the body on top of him and kicked it off. Hill flew off him but quickly began to regain its feet. Rock grabbed his gun and emptied the clip into the man, walking his fire up the chest before exploding the head.
“Cease fire!” he yelled. “Attackers to the rear!” Rock looked and saw several men already embattled with former buddies. “Shoot to kill dammit! Shoot to kill!”
The Creature Commandos:
The small road they had been following emptied out into the expansive yard of a small villa, one currently occupied by several tanks being serviced. Shrieve began to stand the moment the car slowed.
“I' m hier, zum von HauptKluge zu sehen. Wo ist er?” he sneered at the man who ran up to the car. Warren stared at his lieutenant. Who would have ever thought that being a complete jerk would be an asset or universal? The arrogance was so thick you could cut it with a knife. If they lived through this war, the man would probably be a shoe-in for a career as a politician, which was a whole ‘nother reason to hate his guts.
The underling appeared sufficiently cowed and bowed his head and gestured towards the front door of the home. Shrieve turned smartly on his heels and strode over like he owned the place only to be blocked at the door by a guard.
“I' m traurig, Kapitän. Der Major ist in einer Konferenz jetzt. You' ll müssen warten.” The man apologized in that voice that let anyone know that he was under orders and to hell with what you thought.
It was a fight Shrieve didn’t want to pick and he turned back towards the car, a rivulet of sweat running down his back. Here he was stuck out in the open with a bunch of freaks that would be discovered the moment anyone took a good look. Right now he was being such a complete ass that all attention was on him but that wouldn’t last long. God, they were fubar.
The staccato ripple of gunfire snapped his attention back as everyone around him ran for cover from the puffs of dirt thrown up by rounds impacting the ground and the loud echoes of bullets deflecting off armor plate. He dove behind the car as everyone else inside did likewise and Myra rolled out of the trunk unnoticed in the confusion. Dear God thank you for the distraction, he rolled his eyes skyward, but it ain’t going to do me any good if I’m dead from it.
A machine gun on a nearby tank opened fire only to have the entire thing explode a few minutes later. “Jesus Christ!” Sgt. Velcro yelled but his words were drowned out by the cries of the injured and dying and his own ringing eardrums.
They huddled behind the car. “What do we do?” Myra asked taking a quick glance around the fender. “Those are our guys out there…”
“And we’re dressed like krauts,” Warren offered before Shrieve could say something ugly. He wrinkled his nose as he tried to ignore the smell of brunt flesh that got stronger.
Suddenly, Elliot reached out, his muscular frame finally bursting the seams of the jacket that he had been squeezed into, and dragged back the charred husk of a soldier, eyes glowing unnaturally as it hissed fetid breath back into the face of its captor. Myra screamed as Elliot viciously began to slam the undead thing into the side of the car until its head caved in with a sickening wet crack.
They all looked around and saw the fallen begin to stagger back to life and turn on their companions. There was no fire coming from the woods anymore and it didn’t take much imagination to believe that the same nightmare was unfolding there as well.
“Everyone stay together,” Shrieve said with a unusual tremor in his voice, “and kill any goddamn thing that comes near you.” Elliot wondered with no small amount of dark irony if the sight of real monsters had unnerved the stone-cold bastard.
Sgt. Velcro grabbed one of the animated corpses and tore open its neck only to stagger away retching a moment later. Warren pumped lead into it until it stopped moving.
Myra’s writhing hair refused to do anything and seemed to flinch from the unnaturalness of the things. She emptied her pistol time and time again to little effect as Elliot stood guard grabbing, rending and breaking anything that got near her.
All of them quickly learned that their guns weren’t going to be of much use and quickly discarded them in favor of their own natural weapons of whatever they could lay their hands on.
And there they stood, a small circle of defiance in a world gone utterly mad.
Nimue swore as the Eye bounced around the room unharmed from the impact of the old mace she had found in a spare room. Blackhawk looked over from where he was wrenching a pair of old dueling swords from their mounts on the wall. “I don’t think that’s going to work,” he stated the obvious and she bit back a reply. Nimue wasted precious time finding it underneath the bed and getting it back into Jeb’s helmet without touching it. She wasn’t going to be able to destroy it. Even if she had her magic and could have, Merlin’s curse would probably see to it that she couldn’t.
She yanked open doors as she ran down the hallway, the booming sound of gunfire echoed after her. Blackhawk went the other way, his arms full of various scavenged weapons. Little time was wasted as she quickly rummaged shelves and display cases, precious and rare items being cast aside without thought. What was it with Sommer? She desperately fumed. The man manages to collect a house full of antiquities yet doesn’t manage to have a single item that was mystical in nature outside the Eye of Calitant! The Gods truly hate me.
A coopery red urn drew her attention. Was that? She checked the engravings. Atlantean? Orichalcum? Yes! I take it all back! She thought staring skyward. Well, most of it anyway. It wasn’t what Jeb wanted but it was close.
“Well, hello, my little flower” a sultry voice interrupted her brief moment of triumph.
Krestler’s gun went empty first followed two shots later by Jeb’s. They had even rolled a large vase down the stairs but now they were truly without anything but bare knuckles. The dead men, eyes flaring, began closing in on them. Jeb and Krestler crouched into fighting stances. “Never thought I’d be killed by a dead man,” Jeb muttered grimly. “Ja,” Krestler agreed, “Fate can be cruel.”
And then they were upon them. Krestler drove blows into the chest and face of Viktor as it tried to grab the man’s neck. Jeb broke Major Kluge’s nose for all the good it did. Strong hands tore at their uniforms and flesh, the full fury of the living dead upon them. Krestler tried to kick his assailant down the stairs but it had a hold on him and the two collapsed to the floor, a rolling frenzy of elbows, knees and teeth. Jeb’s punch rocked the head of the major but it kept coming. Once Krestler went down, it opened up room for Eichmann and the dead guard to gain the top of the stairs. Jeb backed away towards the hallway as all three advanced on him.
Two inches of weathered steel slid past his ear and into the throat of Kluge’s former guard. “Took longer than I thought,” Blackhawk grunted from behind him as the hilt of its twin was thrust into Jeb’s hand. The blade withdrew and Bart Hawk surrendered it to Captain Krestler. “You know how to use this?”
“My ancestors would be insulted,” Krestler smiled grimly and dropped into a ready stance, “Ja, I can handle a sword.”
“Good,” Blackhawk picked up a battleaxe. “Let’s finish this.”
Easy Company:
Rock wasn’t sure if they just had fewer casualties or if their previous encounter had taught them to dead with these dead soldiers. It didn’t matter. If this was some Nazi weapon, they needed to put a end to it here. He looked over at Marie who had advanced up to his position. She seemed much less rattled now that she had a gun in her hand and had seen these things killed again. If there was any doubt left in his mind about her loyalty, it had been resolved the moment she had been attacked on the road.
This is your time, my chosen one, echoed in Marie’s head as the strong yet matronly voice of Boudica calmed her nerves and filled her with a confidence that even the strongest liquor lacked. Kill in my name. Kill for your survival. Kill for your world.
Sergeant Rock looked down at the makeshift depot and could see sporadic gunfire from a few survivors and way too many shambling bodies. Krauts or not, nobody deserved to go out like that.
“Reload, Easy! Prepare to advance!”
Nimue whirled at the voice as a woman stepped out of the gloom of the hallway. A purple silken dress accentuated her ample curves and blood red tresses spilled around her shoulders, complimenting a face that would have shamed many Hollywood starlets. Her presence seemed to expand to fill the confined space and Nimue felt small and insignificant and took a hesitant step backward.
“You don’t need that,” the woman cooed and stretched out her hand.
Despite her honeyed words Nimue felt exactly the opposite. Her body might not be responding but she knew that there was no way that she should surrender the Eye. She was being enchanted and her mind steeled itself to fight off the invasion.
The woman chuckled. “I know all about you, girl, pledged to neither Order or Chaos, you work in your own interests. You of all people should know better than to have trusted Merlin. He used you towards his own ends and cursed you to live like this.” She waved her hands at the dingy surroundings.
Nimue gritted her teeth. “I know what you are,” she scowled. “I live my life on my own terms, demoness. I don’t dance to the tune of your masters who want nothing but destruction. I should have guessed you’d have been behind this, Tala.”
Tala smiled thinly, her humor gone. “I don’t want destruction, silly little fae, it is just one of the delicious side effects. Once this world has been thrown in chaos, we can step in and take our rightful place as the rulers and guiding force for those humans who are enlightened enough to recognize our superiority.”
“And you expect me to just witness this?” Nimue almost laughed.
“Of course not, you’re nothing but trouble so I’m afraid that this is the end for you.” Tala advanced on the helpless Nimue.
“Heard that before,” Nimue released the willpower she had been building and her foot shot forward, slamming into the demoness’s shin.
As Tala bent over howling in pain and surprise, Nimue clutched the urn to her chest and ran back towards Jeb. She had no idea what to do now and that scared her more than anything else had in her long life.
The Creature Commandos:
“We’ve got the cavalry coming!” Myrra yelled as she saw the advancing G.I.s. Her elbow smashed into the face of one of the dead men, her hands long gone bloody and numb from the vicious hand-to-hand fighting.
“Great,” Shrieve grunted and swung his gore-splattered entrenching shovel again. “Let’s just hope they don’t get trigger happy and get us too.”
Eliott grunted his agreement as he ignored the dead thing trying to bite his arm in half long enough to pull the pin on a grenade on the German’s belt before slinging it away to explode amongst a few more of them. It didn’t really do anything other than cost them a few limbs which really only made them slower.
Velcro and Griffith fought side by side, blood staining both fur and pale skin equally. Myrra wasn’t sure if it was German or theirs. Not that it mattered. Her hands couldn’t even unwrap a bandage now if she wanted to.
“Give me a lift up, big guy,” she nudged Eliott in the side and he obligingly lifted her up onto his shoulders as he ignored the two soldiers clawing at his chest. Myrra frantically began waving her arms above her head and screaming for help.
They might be monsters but even monsters knew when hell got too hot for them.
Jeb turned at the shriek of pain and the sound of pounding footsteps. Nimue barreled into him and he instinctively pushed her behind him. He raised his axe and gasped as a curvacious woman emerged from the gloom but her once-beautiful face had slipped into a mask of rage, a mask that faded into amusement.
“So it seems that my disgraced sorceress has herself a champion. Human too. How... futile.”
“Lady,” Jeb said, keenly aware of the sounds Krestler and Blackhawk fighting behind him. “I don’t know what your beef is with us but we don’t want a fight.”
“A fight?” She laughed. “You are a insect to me!”
She extended her arms and the blue mist that had been coursing through the dead men shot out in jets from them and into her. The now lifeless husks collapsed to the floor. Spiritual energy crackled between her fingertips and a sense of impending death struck the men to their cores. Her eyes narrowed. “Fools! I am power! I am DEATH!”
Outside:
Easy Company and the Commandos had formed a uneasy alliance and incorporated the small handful of surviving Germans and, as a united front, the combined forces began to beat back the tide of dead.
“Thanks for the save, Sergeant,” Shrieve yelled over the gunfire to the scruffy man next to him.
“No problem, Lieutenant,” Rock replied. “I’m just pretending that your horror show is a figment of a touch of shellshock.”
“Best thing to do,” Shrieve shot back. “They’re need to know but they’re on our side.”
“Sir, the only sides here is us and them.” Rock corrected him as a German shot one of his dead buddies as it went after one of Easy. “The living and the dead.”
“No!” Nimue screamed and threw herself at Tala only to find herself being choked by the surprisingly strong fingers that suddenly appeared around her throat.
“Perhaps I’ll enslave your man there and use him for my pleasure before killing him like I did the Major. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep you alive long enough to watch.” Tala snarled.
“I doubt... it...” Nimue gasped as she grabbed the Eye of Calitant and quickly shoved it against Tala’s chest, where it latched on. “Witch!" Nimue released the cursed stone as soon as she felt the clammy touch of the otherworld begin to chill her blood. She was sure that she had been corrupted even more by the experience but you didn’t survive as long as she had without making sacrifices.
The demoness’s scream started off as a gurgled gasp and increased from there as the Eye began to leech off the souls of the dead men before beginning to work on hers. Icy blue flames shot out of her mouth, eyes and anywhere else it could find a outlet. If it had any notion of escape from the stone’s hunger, it had none.
The house shook from the assault of mystic energy within as the windows blew outward. Nimue staggered backwards grasping her bruised throat and the men with her where thrown from their feet. Tendrils of power lashed out wildly against the walls, knocking off plaques, pictures or anything else not secured as if to grab ahold of something to stop from being pulled into the Eye.
At first it was hard to see but soon the men saw the woman’s movements slow and grow jerky. An unearthly wail of desperation and misery, both feminine and male, assaulted their ears and both men fell to their knees clutching their ears against the sonic assault. Jeb stared through tear filled eyes the twisted and anguished faces that milled in the eerie mist that writhed against the irresistible pull. Oh God, Jeb thought with horror. Is this the afterlife?
Outside:
Easy and the Germans wasted a few rounds on the dead just to make sure as their former foes erupted into a blue light and streaked skyward only to be drawn through the walls of the house with a otherworldly shriek.
Four Eyes, Easy Company’s sharpshooter, scratched the back of his head. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle... anybody wanna explain what the hell just happened?”
“Not without a few slugs of hooch in me I don’t,” Warren Griffith said. “I think that’s the only way I could make sense outta this - if I was dead drunk.”
“Unser Vater, den Kunst im Himmel, geheiligt thy Name ist. Thy Königreich gekommen. Thy wird in der Erde getan, Wie sie im Himmel ist...” A young German mechanic breathed, his trembling hands still clenched on his rifle.
“I don’t know what you’re sayin’ but... yeah.” One of Easy’s grunts offered a cigarette.
Frank Rock looked around for Marie only to find her gone.
"Kiiillllllllllllllll... yyyoooouuuuuuuuuuuu...” screamed the disembodied Tala as one of the tendrils managed to lash itself around the corpse of Major Kluge and it began to stir.
“I ... will...” the raw vocal cords remaining in the body ground out a threat, only made more terrifying by the feminine quality of the raspy voice. It’s dead fingers closed around a discarded pistol and pointed it at Nimue.
Strike now, my child!
Mademoiselle Marie’s bullet caught the corpse of Major Kluge between the eyes, destroying the head in a shower of gore and bluish mist.
And then it was over. Kluge/Tala collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut as the battered and bruised Jeb and Blackhawk looked at each other with undisguised relief, while Krestler just slumped against the wall muttering a prayer. Nimue quickly scooped the Eye into the urn and closed its lid. “Its not destroyed,” she croaked. “I’ve just made it inert as long as it’s in this.”
They all walked quickly outside where the sun was now shining. The freakish storm had dissipated like some horrific nightmare in the light of day. None of them wanted to remain inside that house for any longer than it took their aching bodies to make the front door.
They were met by the massed group outside, even the presence of the Creature Commandos doing little to phase them after all they had been through in the last hour. Quite frankly they were just happy to see the dirty olive drab and gray mob - living people.
“Captain,” Nimue said, “That was the Eye you were sent to find. Do you still want something like that?”
“No, Fräulein,” Krestler answered quickly with a shudder. “There are things best left alone. That is not a weapon. It is Death and I want no part of it.”
“And you, J... Lieutenant?” Nimue offered him the urn.
“Nobody would believe me even if I told them,” Jeb answered simply.
“It is an object of great power. I could study…” Nimue was cut of by Jeb’s arms around her waist and his kiss. She felt him take the urn from her hands but didn’t care as a mixture of cheers and catcalls erupted from the peanut gallery.
“Captain, I think for the good of everyone that this thing meets its end,” Jeb murmured, his eyes only on Nimue.
“Ja," Krestler took the urn from Jeb and placed it underneath the sole remaining Tiger tank that had been under repair in the yard. He clambered up to the driver’s hatch and started the engine that coughed and grinded to life, vomiting black sickly exhaust behind it.
“Do not worry, lieutenant. It will move as far as we need it to,” Krestler shouted over the ailing sounds of the diesel.
“And what of you, Captain Krestler?” Nimue asked, her head resting against Jeb’s shoulder.
“I will accompany the lieutenant back to his tank and order my men to release his crew. I have had enough of this war. I am going to try to make my way to Switzerland. I hear the skiing is excellent there.”
“And what of you, Nimue?” Jeb echoed, staring into her eyes.
“I will wait for you, Jeb Stuart. Forever if I must,” she replied breathlessly. “When this war is over look for me in your New York City.”
Jeb and Nimue watched as the tank treads collapsed the urn and the loud crack of thunder as the Eye of Calitant closed at last.
His thoughts of reassurance were for himself alone but they could all feel the electricity building in the air, the faint tingle of the air, a deathly silence only broken by the rumble of their engines and an ominous feeling that something just wasn’t right. The instinctive fear that they were out of their ken and tottering on the brink of the unknown. Monsters or not, even they could fear the darkness.
Weird War Tales: Stare Not Into the Abyss
Part Five of Five
Written by James Stubbs
Krestler stared up in horror as Major Kluge’s chest erupted into so many bloody holes as the American’s fire put an end to the madman. First the cold blooded murder of a woman and now shooting a man in the back. This war was insane. Had no one any honor?
The captain scrabbled away with a yelp of terror when a eerie blue mist began to seep from the sides of the Kluge’s dead eyes and a mocking laugh echoed hollowly from his blood-flecked lips. Jeb pumped more bullets into the corpse to little effect other than the further desecration of dead flesh.
Nimue was on her feet with her hand still clutched at her blood soaked chest. “The separation between this world and the spirit world has been broken” she said “His life force was the only thing holding it back. There are things in the other world that want to come over and now they freely can.”
Blackhawk had snatched his pistol out of Krestler’s belt but stood uncertain at what to do. His hands were steady but you could see the fear creeping into his darting eyes. Ghosts of old fliers were one thing but now the living dead wanted to kill them all.
“Mein Gott!” Krestler screamed as the dead guard, Eichmann and Viktor also began to stir from the places where they had fallen, the same freakish blue glow surrounding the now animated cadavers.
“Get your gun, Captain!” Jeb yelled “We’ve got to kill these things!”
Krestler scrambled for Kluge’s discarded pistol like a man grasping for life itself. Jeb spared a second to look at him. Krestler was on the verge of shellshock. No sane man should believe his eyes right now but it was happening. It was only his association with the General and Nimue that had somewhat steeled him for this.
“We’ve got to destroy the Eye, Jeb!” Nimue yelled “It’s the doorway!”
“Krestler! Grab…” Jeb began to yell but Nimue cut him off.
“No! Don’t touch it!” she screamed.
Blackhawk’s pistol finally spoke and buried a heavy slug into the guard now regaining its feet. Other than likewise messing up the body further, it had no effect on the lumbering body. Bart Hawk stopped again, unsure as to what to do next.
General Stuart came through the wall, his snorting steed cantering sideways as the old warhorse brandished his ghostly saber. “I’ll hold ‘em off Jeb m’ boy! Just git rid o’ that confounded rock!” Jeb swore he could smell a waft of black powder and hear distant bugle calls but right now that old rebel was the best sight he had ever seen.
Jeb dove for the Eye underneath the stomping hooves of the General’s horse. He had no fear of being trampled but the things in the dead men certainly did not share his confidence as they backed away from the mount and the apparition with the sword who swung his weapon with such wild abandon, “Our Dixie forever! She's never at a loss! Down with the eagle and...” Stuart sang fiercely from his saddle. The man could belt Yankee Doodle for all Jeb cared as long as he was saving all their bacon.
The Eye was where it had fallen and Jeb was able to scoop it up into his helmet without touching it. He found himself near where Krestler was frozen in place and grabbed the man’s arm. “Time to go!” Jeb yelled and yanked the man to his feet. Blackhawk was suddenly at their side, the two men flanking the officer with weapons leveled at undying enemies.
The battle had gotten woollier and the way they had come in was now blocked by a mass of clutching grasping bodies. “Up this way!” Nimue yelled from the bottom of a staircase she had found. With the Eye rattling around in his steel pot like a Mexican jumping bean, Jeb and Blackhawk hauled Krestler up the stairs after her as several of the dead began to lumber in their direction after realizing that the old ghost wasn’t hurting them no matter how many times he ran them through with his saber.
“Krestler!” Jeb yelled. “These are not your men anymore. Shoot to kill!” Even Jeb knew that these things wouldn’t die that easily but maybe they could hold them off long enough. He thrust his helmet at Nimue. “See if you can find a way to break this thing,” he implored. “We’re running out of time.”
The German gulped and swallowed hard before putting a slug into what was once Eichmann. The bullet riddled body was thrown back down the stairs, limbs flopping like a discarded child’s doll, but immediately began to regain its feet, Eichmann’s head lolling grotesquely from the now broken neck. Jeb sprayed the stairwell with his gun sending the rest thumping back down from the impacts as well. The magazine ran dry with a loud click.
Blackhawk squeezed off two more shots. “Lieutenant, we’re going to run out of ammo at this rate,“ he warned. “Hold them off. I’m going to go see if I can’t find else to fight with. This place is full of old stuff, maybe we can find swords or something.”
Jeb watched the pilot go and prepared to use the empty gun as a club before his own tommy gun was thrust into his hands. “Your weapon, lieutenant,” Krestler smiled grimly, having regained his composure if not a steady voice. “If we are to die I wish to do so fighting.”
“That’s fine, Captain,” Jeb shot back as he drew back the charging bolt. “But I don’t intend on buying the farm just yet.”
***
Easy Company:
Easy sucked dirt as they came under fire as they broke into a sudden clearing. Of all the damned luck, Rock groused. This hadn’t been on the map and who would’ve known it’d be a damned tank staging area. At least the main force doesn’t appear to be at home. Maintenance crews and guards took cover and fired at the blundering Americans.
“Return fire!” he yelled thinking how stupid it was to say that given the circumstances. “Make ‘em count!”
A throaty roar cut the din as some enterprising Germans turned one of the turret machine guns on the top of a broken down tank on his soldiers. Rock clamped his helmet down to his head and tried to become one with Mother Earth. Screams and cries for the medic assailed his ears and he clenched his teeth.
A rocket streaked out from their lines and exploded the tank, raining deadly shrapnel amongst the Germans. Long Round had gotten their number. Lightning crashed from the strange clouds overhead and thunder almost drowned out the sounds of the firefight. War called on account of rain he wished.
Hands suddenly wrapped around his throat and he quickly rolled over to bring his own hands into play before the choker could get a firmer grip on him. It was Private Hill, eerily glowing eyes and bullet riddled torso leering down at him. Screams and curses in both German and English reached his ears. Rock grabbed its head and jammed both thumbs into its eyes. He had learned this from a Brit commando. It wasn’t fair. Hell, it was downright dirty fighting. Both eyeballs gave way and a numbing cold began to seep into his hands as they were bathed in the mist.
“Jesus!” he yelled and drew his legs underneath the body on top of him and kicked it off. Hill flew off him but quickly began to regain its feet. Rock grabbed his gun and emptied the clip into the man, walking his fire up the chest before exploding the head.
“Cease fire!” he yelled. “Attackers to the rear!” Rock looked and saw several men already embattled with former buddies. “Shoot to kill dammit! Shoot to kill!”
***
The Creature Commandos:
The small road they had been following emptied out into the expansive yard of a small villa, one currently occupied by several tanks being serviced. Shrieve began to stand the moment the car slowed.
“I' m hier, zum von HauptKluge zu sehen. Wo ist er?” he sneered at the man who ran up to the car. Warren stared at his lieutenant. Who would have ever thought that being a complete jerk would be an asset or universal? The arrogance was so thick you could cut it with a knife. If they lived through this war, the man would probably be a shoe-in for a career as a politician, which was a whole ‘nother reason to hate his guts.
The underling appeared sufficiently cowed and bowed his head and gestured towards the front door of the home. Shrieve turned smartly on his heels and strode over like he owned the place only to be blocked at the door by a guard.
“I' m traurig, Kapitän. Der Major ist in einer Konferenz jetzt. You' ll müssen warten.” The man apologized in that voice that let anyone know that he was under orders and to hell with what you thought.
It was a fight Shrieve didn’t want to pick and he turned back towards the car, a rivulet of sweat running down his back. Here he was stuck out in the open with a bunch of freaks that would be discovered the moment anyone took a good look. Right now he was being such a complete ass that all attention was on him but that wouldn’t last long. God, they were fubar.
The staccato ripple of gunfire snapped his attention back as everyone around him ran for cover from the puffs of dirt thrown up by rounds impacting the ground and the loud echoes of bullets deflecting off armor plate. He dove behind the car as everyone else inside did likewise and Myra rolled out of the trunk unnoticed in the confusion. Dear God thank you for the distraction, he rolled his eyes skyward, but it ain’t going to do me any good if I’m dead from it.
A machine gun on a nearby tank opened fire only to have the entire thing explode a few minutes later. “Jesus Christ!” Sgt. Velcro yelled but his words were drowned out by the cries of the injured and dying and his own ringing eardrums.
They huddled behind the car. “What do we do?” Myra asked taking a quick glance around the fender. “Those are our guys out there…”
“And we’re dressed like krauts,” Warren offered before Shrieve could say something ugly. He wrinkled his nose as he tried to ignore the smell of brunt flesh that got stronger.
Suddenly, Elliot reached out, his muscular frame finally bursting the seams of the jacket that he had been squeezed into, and dragged back the charred husk of a soldier, eyes glowing unnaturally as it hissed fetid breath back into the face of its captor. Myra screamed as Elliot viciously began to slam the undead thing into the side of the car until its head caved in with a sickening wet crack.
They all looked around and saw the fallen begin to stagger back to life and turn on their companions. There was no fire coming from the woods anymore and it didn’t take much imagination to believe that the same nightmare was unfolding there as well.
“Everyone stay together,” Shrieve said with a unusual tremor in his voice, “and kill any goddamn thing that comes near you.” Elliot wondered with no small amount of dark irony if the sight of real monsters had unnerved the stone-cold bastard.
Sgt. Velcro grabbed one of the animated corpses and tore open its neck only to stagger away retching a moment later. Warren pumped lead into it until it stopped moving.
Myra’s writhing hair refused to do anything and seemed to flinch from the unnaturalness of the things. She emptied her pistol time and time again to little effect as Elliot stood guard grabbing, rending and breaking anything that got near her.
All of them quickly learned that their guns weren’t going to be of much use and quickly discarded them in favor of their own natural weapons of whatever they could lay their hands on.
And there they stood, a small circle of defiance in a world gone utterly mad.
***
Nimue swore as the Eye bounced around the room unharmed from the impact of the old mace she had found in a spare room. Blackhawk looked over from where he was wrenching a pair of old dueling swords from their mounts on the wall. “I don’t think that’s going to work,” he stated the obvious and she bit back a reply. Nimue wasted precious time finding it underneath the bed and getting it back into Jeb’s helmet without touching it. She wasn’t going to be able to destroy it. Even if she had her magic and could have, Merlin’s curse would probably see to it that she couldn’t.
She yanked open doors as she ran down the hallway, the booming sound of gunfire echoed after her. Blackhawk went the other way, his arms full of various scavenged weapons. Little time was wasted as she quickly rummaged shelves and display cases, precious and rare items being cast aside without thought. What was it with Sommer? She desperately fumed. The man manages to collect a house full of antiquities yet doesn’t manage to have a single item that was mystical in nature outside the Eye of Calitant! The Gods truly hate me.
A coopery red urn drew her attention. Was that? She checked the engravings. Atlantean? Orichalcum? Yes! I take it all back! She thought staring skyward. Well, most of it anyway. It wasn’t what Jeb wanted but it was close.
“Well, hello, my little flower” a sultry voice interrupted her brief moment of triumph.
***
Krestler’s gun went empty first followed two shots later by Jeb’s. They had even rolled a large vase down the stairs but now they were truly without anything but bare knuckles. The dead men, eyes flaring, began closing in on them. Jeb and Krestler crouched into fighting stances. “Never thought I’d be killed by a dead man,” Jeb muttered grimly. “Ja,” Krestler agreed, “Fate can be cruel.”
And then they were upon them. Krestler drove blows into the chest and face of Viktor as it tried to grab the man’s neck. Jeb broke Major Kluge’s nose for all the good it did. Strong hands tore at their uniforms and flesh, the full fury of the living dead upon them. Krestler tried to kick his assailant down the stairs but it had a hold on him and the two collapsed to the floor, a rolling frenzy of elbows, knees and teeth. Jeb’s punch rocked the head of the major but it kept coming. Once Krestler went down, it opened up room for Eichmann and the dead guard to gain the top of the stairs. Jeb backed away towards the hallway as all three advanced on him.
Two inches of weathered steel slid past his ear and into the throat of Kluge’s former guard. “Took longer than I thought,” Blackhawk grunted from behind him as the hilt of its twin was thrust into Jeb’s hand. The blade withdrew and Bart Hawk surrendered it to Captain Krestler. “You know how to use this?”
“My ancestors would be insulted,” Krestler smiled grimly and dropped into a ready stance, “Ja, I can handle a sword.”
“Good,” Blackhawk picked up a battleaxe. “Let’s finish this.”
***
Easy Company:
Rock wasn’t sure if they just had fewer casualties or if their previous encounter had taught them to dead with these dead soldiers. It didn’t matter. If this was some Nazi weapon, they needed to put a end to it here. He looked over at Marie who had advanced up to his position. She seemed much less rattled now that she had a gun in her hand and had seen these things killed again. If there was any doubt left in his mind about her loyalty, it had been resolved the moment she had been attacked on the road.
This is your time, my chosen one, echoed in Marie’s head as the strong yet matronly voice of Boudica calmed her nerves and filled her with a confidence that even the strongest liquor lacked. Kill in my name. Kill for your survival. Kill for your world.
Sergeant Rock looked down at the makeshift depot and could see sporadic gunfire from a few survivors and way too many shambling bodies. Krauts or not, nobody deserved to go out like that.
“Reload, Easy! Prepare to advance!”
***
Nimue whirled at the voice as a woman stepped out of the gloom of the hallway. A purple silken dress accentuated her ample curves and blood red tresses spilled around her shoulders, complimenting a face that would have shamed many Hollywood starlets. Her presence seemed to expand to fill the confined space and Nimue felt small and insignificant and took a hesitant step backward.
“You don’t need that,” the woman cooed and stretched out her hand.
Despite her honeyed words Nimue felt exactly the opposite. Her body might not be responding but she knew that there was no way that she should surrender the Eye. She was being enchanted and her mind steeled itself to fight off the invasion.
The woman chuckled. “I know all about you, girl, pledged to neither Order or Chaos, you work in your own interests. You of all people should know better than to have trusted Merlin. He used you towards his own ends and cursed you to live like this.” She waved her hands at the dingy surroundings.
Nimue gritted her teeth. “I know what you are,” she scowled. “I live my life on my own terms, demoness. I don’t dance to the tune of your masters who want nothing but destruction. I should have guessed you’d have been behind this, Tala.”
Tala smiled thinly, her humor gone. “I don’t want destruction, silly little fae, it is just one of the delicious side effects. Once this world has been thrown in chaos, we can step in and take our rightful place as the rulers and guiding force for those humans who are enlightened enough to recognize our superiority.”
“And you expect me to just witness this?” Nimue almost laughed.
“Of course not, you’re nothing but trouble so I’m afraid that this is the end for you.” Tala advanced on the helpless Nimue.
“Heard that before,” Nimue released the willpower she had been building and her foot shot forward, slamming into the demoness’s shin.
As Tala bent over howling in pain and surprise, Nimue clutched the urn to her chest and ran back towards Jeb. She had no idea what to do now and that scared her more than anything else had in her long life.
***
The Creature Commandos:
“We’ve got the cavalry coming!” Myrra yelled as she saw the advancing G.I.s. Her elbow smashed into the face of one of the dead men, her hands long gone bloody and numb from the vicious hand-to-hand fighting.
“Great,” Shrieve grunted and swung his gore-splattered entrenching shovel again. “Let’s just hope they don’t get trigger happy and get us too.”
Eliott grunted his agreement as he ignored the dead thing trying to bite his arm in half long enough to pull the pin on a grenade on the German’s belt before slinging it away to explode amongst a few more of them. It didn’t really do anything other than cost them a few limbs which really only made them slower.
Velcro and Griffith fought side by side, blood staining both fur and pale skin equally. Myrra wasn’t sure if it was German or theirs. Not that it mattered. Her hands couldn’t even unwrap a bandage now if she wanted to.
“Give me a lift up, big guy,” she nudged Eliott in the side and he obligingly lifted her up onto his shoulders as he ignored the two soldiers clawing at his chest. Myrra frantically began waving her arms above her head and screaming for help.
They might be monsters but even monsters knew when hell got too hot for them.
***
Jeb turned at the shriek of pain and the sound of pounding footsteps. Nimue barreled into him and he instinctively pushed her behind him. He raised his axe and gasped as a curvacious woman emerged from the gloom but her once-beautiful face had slipped into a mask of rage, a mask that faded into amusement.
“So it seems that my disgraced sorceress has herself a champion. Human too. How... futile.”
“Lady,” Jeb said, keenly aware of the sounds Krestler and Blackhawk fighting behind him. “I don’t know what your beef is with us but we don’t want a fight.”
“A fight?” She laughed. “You are a insect to me!”
She extended her arms and the blue mist that had been coursing through the dead men shot out in jets from them and into her. The now lifeless husks collapsed to the floor. Spiritual energy crackled between her fingertips and a sense of impending death struck the men to their cores. Her eyes narrowed. “Fools! I am power! I am DEATH!”
***
Outside:
Easy Company and the Commandos had formed a uneasy alliance and incorporated the small handful of surviving Germans and, as a united front, the combined forces began to beat back the tide of dead.
“Thanks for the save, Sergeant,” Shrieve yelled over the gunfire to the scruffy man next to him.
“No problem, Lieutenant,” Rock replied. “I’m just pretending that your horror show is a figment of a touch of shellshock.”
“Best thing to do,” Shrieve shot back. “They’re need to know but they’re on our side.”
“Sir, the only sides here is us and them.” Rock corrected him as a German shot one of his dead buddies as it went after one of Easy. “The living and the dead.”
***
“No!” Nimue screamed and threw herself at Tala only to find herself being choked by the surprisingly strong fingers that suddenly appeared around her throat.
“Perhaps I’ll enslave your man there and use him for my pleasure before killing him like I did the Major. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep you alive long enough to watch.” Tala snarled.
“I doubt... it...” Nimue gasped as she grabbed the Eye of Calitant and quickly shoved it against Tala’s chest, where it latched on. “Witch!" Nimue released the cursed stone as soon as she felt the clammy touch of the otherworld begin to chill her blood. She was sure that she had been corrupted even more by the experience but you didn’t survive as long as she had without making sacrifices.
The demoness’s scream started off as a gurgled gasp and increased from there as the Eye began to leech off the souls of the dead men before beginning to work on hers. Icy blue flames shot out of her mouth, eyes and anywhere else it could find a outlet. If it had any notion of escape from the stone’s hunger, it had none.
The house shook from the assault of mystic energy within as the windows blew outward. Nimue staggered backwards grasping her bruised throat and the men with her where thrown from their feet. Tendrils of power lashed out wildly against the walls, knocking off plaques, pictures or anything else not secured as if to grab ahold of something to stop from being pulled into the Eye.
At first it was hard to see but soon the men saw the woman’s movements slow and grow jerky. An unearthly wail of desperation and misery, both feminine and male, assaulted their ears and both men fell to their knees clutching their ears against the sonic assault. Jeb stared through tear filled eyes the twisted and anguished faces that milled in the eerie mist that writhed against the irresistible pull. Oh God, Jeb thought with horror. Is this the afterlife?
***
Outside:
Easy and the Germans wasted a few rounds on the dead just to make sure as their former foes erupted into a blue light and streaked skyward only to be drawn through the walls of the house with a otherworldly shriek.
Four Eyes, Easy Company’s sharpshooter, scratched the back of his head. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle... anybody wanna explain what the hell just happened?”
“Not without a few slugs of hooch in me I don’t,” Warren Griffith said. “I think that’s the only way I could make sense outta this - if I was dead drunk.”
“Unser Vater, den Kunst im Himmel, geheiligt thy Name ist. Thy Königreich gekommen. Thy wird in der Erde getan, Wie sie im Himmel ist...” A young German mechanic breathed, his trembling hands still clenched on his rifle.
“I don’t know what you’re sayin’ but... yeah.” One of Easy’s grunts offered a cigarette.
Frank Rock looked around for Marie only to find her gone.
***
"Kiiillllllllllllllll... yyyoooouuuuuuuuuuuu...” screamed the disembodied Tala as one of the tendrils managed to lash itself around the corpse of Major Kluge and it began to stir.
“I ... will...” the raw vocal cords remaining in the body ground out a threat, only made more terrifying by the feminine quality of the raspy voice. It’s dead fingers closed around a discarded pistol and pointed it at Nimue.
Strike now, my child!
Mademoiselle Marie’s bullet caught the corpse of Major Kluge between the eyes, destroying the head in a shower of gore and bluish mist.
And then it was over. Kluge/Tala collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut as the battered and bruised Jeb and Blackhawk looked at each other with undisguised relief, while Krestler just slumped against the wall muttering a prayer. Nimue quickly scooped the Eye into the urn and closed its lid. “Its not destroyed,” she croaked. “I’ve just made it inert as long as it’s in this.”
They all walked quickly outside where the sun was now shining. The freakish storm had dissipated like some horrific nightmare in the light of day. None of them wanted to remain inside that house for any longer than it took their aching bodies to make the front door.
They were met by the massed group outside, even the presence of the Creature Commandos doing little to phase them after all they had been through in the last hour. Quite frankly they were just happy to see the dirty olive drab and gray mob - living people.
“Captain,” Nimue said, “That was the Eye you were sent to find. Do you still want something like that?”
“No, Fräulein,” Krestler answered quickly with a shudder. “There are things best left alone. That is not a weapon. It is Death and I want no part of it.”
“And you, J... Lieutenant?” Nimue offered him the urn.
“Nobody would believe me even if I told them,” Jeb answered simply.
“It is an object of great power. I could study…” Nimue was cut of by Jeb’s arms around her waist and his kiss. She felt him take the urn from her hands but didn’t care as a mixture of cheers and catcalls erupted from the peanut gallery.
“Captain, I think for the good of everyone that this thing meets its end,” Jeb murmured, his eyes only on Nimue.
“Ja," Krestler took the urn from Jeb and placed it underneath the sole remaining Tiger tank that had been under repair in the yard. He clambered up to the driver’s hatch and started the engine that coughed and grinded to life, vomiting black sickly exhaust behind it.
“Do not worry, lieutenant. It will move as far as we need it to,” Krestler shouted over the ailing sounds of the diesel.
“And what of you, Captain Krestler?” Nimue asked, her head resting against Jeb’s shoulder.
“I will accompany the lieutenant back to his tank and order my men to release his crew. I have had enough of this war. I am going to try to make my way to Switzerland. I hear the skiing is excellent there.”
“And what of you, Nimue?” Jeb echoed, staring into her eyes.
“I will wait for you, Jeb Stuart. Forever if I must,” she replied breathlessly. “When this war is over look for me in your New York City.”
Jeb and Nimue watched as the tank treads collapsed the urn and the loud crack of thunder as the Eye of Calitant closed at last.