SNAFU: Heroes: An Anthology of Military Horror

He winced as sudden pain flared along the ribs on the left side of his body, reminding him of his injury. He hadn’t told anyone about it after returning from the skirmish in front of the church; he didn’t want to take the chance that they’d force him out into the night the way they’d forced Hauppman out the day before. After making sure no one was looking in his direction, Stefan carefully unbuttoned his shirt and stole a peek at the wound.

It didn’t look good.

The claw marks the beast had left in his flesh were raw and inflamed and weeping some kind of yellow-green fluid that reminded him of the pus that had leaked out when the doc had lanced his infected finger the year before. That had been nearly a week after he’d slashed his finger on the rusty piece of metal at the shop; this was barely a few hours after he’d been injured.

It just didn’t make sense.

Of course, then again, none of this made sense.

He’d been here in town, picking up a few things he needed at the hardware store, when several of those hideous creatures had burst in through the plate-glass window near the front and slaughtered everyone they could get their hands on. Braun had snatched a set of pruning shears off the shelf in front of him and jammed them through the skull of the creature that lunged for him from around a stack of shelves moments later. After that it had been a cat-and-mouse game of survival out on the streets until he found his way to the church and the sanctuary it offered.

Stefan. Come to us, Stefan.

The voice was more insistent this time and with it came a strong compulsion to move. Before he had given it much thought, Stefan found himself on his feet, carefully stepping over the forms of those sleeping around him, and making his way down the length of the nave toward the doors at the back of the church.

Doors that led down to the basement.

Moments later he was standing in the darkened basement, wondering what the hell he was doing down there.

The answer came quickly.

Over here, Stefan.

The room was pitch-dark, but he crossed it in the direction that the voice was coming from without difficulty. He wasn’t even aware of the issue; to him, the room was as bright as if the lights had been flicked on.

He moved to the back of the room, where some old furniture had been covered with tarps and stored there. The voice was still calling to him, so he pushed the chairs and tables out of the way until he reached a large wardrobe that stood against the back wall.

Move it aside.

The voice was everything now and Stefan listened to it without hesitation. He didn’t think about what he was doing, didn’t think about the pain in his side or the way the voice seemed to be getting louder and stronger inside his head, didn’t stop to reason out what was happening to him – he just did as he was told.

The wardrobe hadn’t been moved in some time and he ended up having to heave it with his shoulder to get it to move aside, but move it did.

Behind it was an iron door set directly into the wall, reminding him of the doors on the furnace at the steelyard where he’d worked in his youth. The handle – a thick iron bar that you pulled down – even looked the same.

Open it. Let us in.

Stefan did so without hesitation.

CHAPTER SEVEN

One minute Duncan was sleeping peacefully, the next he bolted awake as screams of fear and pain exploded throughout the room.

He snatched at his weapon and lurched to his feet, only to stare in horror at the wave of demons that were flooding across the room in his direction, killing as they came. A half-dozen people had already fallen prey to the savage creatures and even as he watched another young woman collapsed to the floor beneath the weight of the demon that had just collided with her. Seconds later the woman’s blood spilled across the floor as the demon tore out her throat with its teeth.

Then Duncan had no more time to look as the first of the oncoming wave reached him and he found himself fighting for his life amidst a swirling dervish of claws and teeth, all intent on ripping the life from his form. For the next several minutes all he could think about was survival.

He did his best to keep his back to the wall, preventing any of the creatures from come up from behind. He caught occasional glimpses of the others as they fought their own battles. Once he heard Cade calling out for his men to form up on him, but he was unable to move or even respond to the summons, for even the lack of focus on his enemy for even the few seconds it would have taken him to do so was all that would have been needed for the creatures to make short shrift of him. He hacked and slashed and did his best to stay on his feet and stay alive.