Sherlock Holmes and the Zombie Problem (11 page)

Time was going on and we needed to be on our way, it would likely be morning again by the time we reached Interlaken, though that would at least give us some rest overnight on the train.
“It is time to move on, good luck to you gentlemen, and good afternoon,” said Holmes.
We set out into the street, the bodies of twenty creatures, that we now knew were probably called zombis, lay across the cobbled street. Blood trickled into the crevices of what was a beautiful place. After losing Jacob, we moved through these bodies cautiously, we could not afford such a mistake again, now knowing the risk these beasts presented beyond physical harm. Stepping from body to body, my SchmidtRubin held at low port, a creature just a yard from my feet opened its eyes, without hesitation I aimed the barrel at its head and let loose, the powerful round cleanlyfinishing the beast off instantly. As weedged through the bodies, two more rounds were fired from my colleagues for the very same reason. We were now through the carnage and feeling a little more comfortable, though no man relaxed. Each of us held their rifle or shotgun at the ready and continually looked around for potential risks. We made our way towards the station, which at this guarded rate took us at least ten minutes, though it felt much longer. The heat was bearing down upon us, which felt worse for the amount of equipment we were carrying.
As we came to a small side alley I looked down it to check for threats, a man was leaning over something. I gestured to the others and took a few steps down the alleyway with Holmes alongside me and the others keeping an eye on all other directions. A few more steps in the man looked up at us in anger, blood dripped from his jaw onto what we could now see was his victim. Raising both our guns, we fired simultaneously to the head. I know my shot was accurately placed, but it vanished in the destruction which Holmes’ shotgun had caused, blowing the top half of the zombi’s head off, blood and gore splattering across wall and causing the lifeless body to keel over. Without hesitation Holmes racked the action of his shotgun, took a further few steps to the monster’s victim and fired directly at his head.
“That poor man was dead, but he may soon have returned as a foul beast, we have both saved him from that fate and us from potential danger,” said Holmes.
It was cold hearted, but totally necessary, these were wicked days and we must rise to the task, weak stomachs would achieve nothing. We walked back to the others who were still a little shocked by Holmes’ actions.
“Move on!” shouted Holmes.
In such a time of need we were blessed to have such a fearless leader at our front, and yet, it was no easier to accept. We continued on our cautious move towards the station, in what was the longest and most uncomfortable way I had ever covered such a short distance.
Finally we reached the platform, it was empty. As we had found previously, trains and their stations were both a blessing and a curse. For having to wait was a daunting task, and likewise, the potential to be delivered into the jaws of the beast was always in the back of our minds, if only we still had the luxury of Mr. Fogg’s dirigible, I did indeed hope that the fine gentleman and his aide found safety.
As before, we posted men at each end of the platform whilst the others rested on the benches. This time is was mine and Holmes’ turn to post guard. I took the north end of the platform, twenty feet ahead of the seating, whilst Holmes did the same for the south side.
I stood on an empty platform, just under the shade of the roof, a small luxury. My suit was now clinging more uncomfortably than ever, with sweat infesting what felt like every thread of it. I looked down at myself, my shoes were caked in mud and grime, dried blood was splashed across the base of my trousers. My jacket was covered in powder residue, several holes were present on my right shoulder, probably from the Marlin’s misfire. I had never felt this dirty and grimy in all my life, not even in war. I truly hoped for a wash basin at the nearest opportunity, though a change of clothes was probably too much to ask for.
Having been stood for quite a while, my feet now ached, in fact most of my body did. Was there no end to this nightmare? Staring out into the distance at the snow capped mountains, my mind wandered on to more joyous things. Thinking of England, my wife, and a more relaxing time, I fell into a day dream. The death and destruction around us didn’t seem to matter any longer, only our ultimate goal, and perhaps survival, though that was perhaps overly ambitious.
I was startled from my standing dazed state by the hoot of a train, a pleasant sound right now. As I became fully awake I focused on the locomotive in the distance.
The sound of a train trundling towards the platform you awaited at was always a relief, but never quite as much as this one. As the sheer excitement of getting away from this place began to take me to a happier mood, movement flickered off to the side of the train, along the length of the platform as a man stumbled onto it. In the shade and at distance I could not make him out. Another followed and then another, the familiar stumble of the zombis became clear to us, damn, this was not good timing.
“Holmes!” I shouted.
The men leapt up from their relaxed and semi-sleeping state on the benches, Holmes coming to the front.
“We must hold them off long enough to get on board this train, or we are all done for,” said Holmes.
“Form up!” shouted Cyril.
The group quickly formed a line, we had efficiency, technology and proficiency in our arsenal, we only lacked numbers, a fact that was becoming ever more problematic.
“Aim for the heads only and take your shots carefully, shotguns, hold fire, rifleman, fire at will!” Cyril shouted.
We opened up, the first four rounds taking two creatures down. We were firing from a standing position at fifty yards, to hit a man was easy, to hit the head of a man under this pressure, less so. We continued firing, the other men needing to reload before me, with Cyril having his Mosin Nagant, the other two men using Mauser rifles.
The train was approaching at a steady speed, there was no doubt we would get onboard. It was only a question of would we get moving again and if so, how many enemies were on the train? We fired as fast as we could, by the time I had fired my twelve rounds and Matthey two stripper clips worth, the train was pulling up alongside us and the beasts were just twenty yards away.
Egerton ripped the nearest door open and we began piling into the carriage, it would at least provide a lot more defence than the open platform, just as we had done previously, we however faced a much larger enemy this time around. Holmes waited alongside the door for us to all be safely onboard. He then jumped on, just as the creatures were reaching the door, slamming the door behind him, hoping it would delay them by any degree, it didn’t. The door was immediately wrenched open and the first beast jumped aboard. Holmes put his shotgun firmly into his shoulder and fired into its face, destroying all recognisable features and making the body slump on to the oncoming horde.
“Don’t stop, keep going, we must reach the engine, get this thing moving, and then worry about what enemies we have onboard,” Holmes shouted.
The group kept on the move, we could fortunately move substantially quicker than the zombis. I reloaded my rifle as I moved, no easy feat with such a long rifle in a narrow corridor of the carriage. We ran through three whole carriages until we got to the front of the train, shocking the driver and crew.
“Get this thing moving immediately!” shouted Holmes.
The conductor who was talking to the driver tried to accost Holmes with the expected response, but Holmes smashed him across the jaw with the stock of his shotgun, knocking him down, he then aimed the weapon at the driver.
“Do it, now!” he cried.
The driver no longer took issue with Holmes and got immediately to work, no matter what he thought we were or our intentions, they were irrelevant. Any harm bestowed on these men to get the train moving they would likely thank us for later, when they saw the extent of the disaster the world now faced. A bruised jaw and ego was quite minor when the other option was death. The men were busy shovelling coal in when Holmes turned back to us.
“Egerton, stay here, make sure they get us moving in the shortest time possible, the rest of you come with me,” said Holmes.
We ran a carriage and a half back where we found the horde bearing down upon us. Spreading out across the benches the five of us took aim.
“Fire!” shouted Holmes.
An ear shattering volley rang out in the enclosed carriage. The first zombi was riddled with lead, with the second taking enough damage from the volley to drop also. We gave it our all, everything we had. Bullets struck the creatures in every area of their bodies. The shotguns at this range were delivering wicked damage, one took a head clean off, another blew an arm from its socket. The carnage was as much devastating as it was an amazing thing to behold.
The train lurched into motion, the most important thing in our lives at this time, and yet, the creatures were still coming at us. God knows how many of these beasts had got aboard the carriages in the last few minutes, it could be a hundred easily. All of our guns were now empty, with a mass of bodies in front of us and further enemies trying to clamber over their dead.
“Back to the next car, we must sever the link between the cars!” shouted Holmes.
It was a fine idea, as perhaps the only solution to our survival, as we would quickly run out of space with our backs to the engine. Whether we had enough ammunition was not the just the issue, whether we could reload and keep up the firing in the short spaces we had was. Quickly turning and fleeing to the next car, we shut the door behind us and Holmes took up a shovel from the outer of the carriage and wedged it against the door.
“Cover me!” he shouted.
Quickly reloading our weapons as the horde came ever closer to the door we had just left, Holmes got down onto the carriage linkage, he was evidently struggling to get it loose. Only Cyril and I could fit in the doorway to the carriage to give assistance to Holmes. Lifting our rifles, one creature was at the doorway, putting its fist immediately through the glass. We both fired, two shots into the head of the lead zombi, it went immediately limp against the doorway, slumping over the now broken window, giving us clear shots to the next creatures.
The bolts of our rifles racked in time and we fired until our rifles were dry, but could not really see the extent of the damage we had caused, because for every creature we killed another would fill its place, desperately trying to push through the door, a perfect bottleneck. Below us Holmes was still struggling, he took up his shotgun and began striking the pinion with the stock, desperately attempting to loosen it. Cyril and I drew our pistols and simply fired though the window continually, our only aim here was to give Holmes the time he needed. My Adams revolvers were now empty, but Holmes had his hand on the pinion and was in the last stages of pulling it out. The door in front of us burst open and a creature broke through just as the pinion was released. Holmes rolled over to our side as the creature leapt at him, but with his shotgun at his hip he fired directly at the chest, knocking it back just enough to stop it from reaching our carriage, its head being obliterating by the oncoming carriage it had come from.
We were free and clear, the line of carriages behind us was losing speed at quite a rate and we were well on our way to Interlaken, just one carriage and the locomotive. However, what really concerned us at this stage in our journey was that the attacks were getting more common and more vicious, rather implying that Moriarty was pinning down our location and gaining in strength.
“Based on the current events it would rather seem likely that Moriarty will try to end us finally in Interlaken. He evidently has some fairly accurate information on where we are and will know that our ammunition quantity dwindles upon each engagement. Additionally, our foe would not let us get close enough to his home and base without confronting us with everything he had, of which he has not done yet, though that platform was perhaps a precursor to.”
At this stage, we were perhaps winging our way to our deaths, but none of us gave it too much thought. Finally, we sat comfortably and safely, attributes which were pure luxury in these horrid days. Everyone took stock of their weapons, reloading everything they had. We still had a good deal of ammunition in our packs thanks to Cyril, but it would likely be needed in its entirety if this next battle would be Moriarty’s big push.
We were now getting ever closer to our final destination and Moriarty was clearly all too aware of that fact, trying desperately to stop us at every turn. However, he clearly still did not understand the exact co-ordinates of our location, which was never allowing him to funnel all his strength into one place, a fortunate fact for us. It was quite clear though that the closer we got to threatening his presence in Switzerland, the easier it would be to pin point us.

I awoke from a short but appreciated sleep to see that we were firmly in the daylight of the next day. Still trundling on down the tracks towards Interlaken, we must have been just minutes away. Holmes was sat upright and fully alert, gazing out of the window in deep thought, whilst the other four men were still asleep. I wondered if Holmes had gotten any sleep at all, or been in this state of alertness for the entire journey. Perhaps this is why he always looked so gaunt and fatigued, as he never slept more than the minimum required to operate.

Interlaken would be an important hub for us, as it was for many, and it therefore only seemed logical that our enemy would have set some plan in motion involving the town. Sadly, we could do nothing now but head directly towards the place and hope for the best.

The platform came into view and it was a sight to see, the most people we had seen in one place since we began this journey, all busy at work of some sort, it seemed overly busy for a small town.

Nearing the platform we could see people on stretchers, with various civilians and policeman carrying an assortment of small arms. This was a familiar sight to me, from long before this latest adventure, the aftermath of a battle. Switzerland was not at war with anybody, and civil dispute was just not a possibility, and therefore, they must have been fighting the same creatures that had continually hounded us. Here was a dilemma, a town full of civilians, with a number of infected survivors among them. No authority would believe our story, and therefore, we could only attempt to leave this town as quickly as we entered it.