Necrocide (15 page)

Genevieve sighed loudly, almost enough to draw the attentions of both men. Clearly this was not good news for the woman Mother who was a resident there.

“So it's you against the might of a dead army. I don't fancy your chances.” Hawkins offered his opinion despite being rather morose.

“It is the only thing left for me to do. I do not have anyone to go home for. If I fail now, then maybe it will be too late to stop them at all.”

“Are we talking the end of the world here?” Hawkins made light of it.

“What do you think?” Bauer replied, his expression one of sincerity.

“I think we are wasting time here.” Genevieve jumped in. She was a tough little bitch at times and far more resilient than anyone could have guessed.

Bauer slapped his knees and puffed up his chest.

“I do not expect you to come with me to Caen. There has been enough suffering here for one day. It is quite clear to me now that the war as we knew it is at an end. I have no obligation to keep you as prisoners.” The German announced glumly. Hawkins nodded in appreciation of the German's humanity. The Brit however was in a difficult position. He had no clear goal; home was far away and distant in his memory now.

“If it's all the same, I’d like to come with you to Caen...see what's what and all that. Anyway, I promised Genevieve I would take her to find her mother. If any good can come of this day, I want to be part of it.”

Genevieve nodded gratefully.

“Thank you John.” She replied, humbled by the bravery of the young man.

“Very well. Three guns are better than one and clearly, all three are well trained.” Bauer looked over to Genevieve who could not escape the scrutiny of the soldiers. She had handled herself on the occasion of battle to an exemplary degree. Resistance links or not, the soldiers were under no illusion that this young French girl had been well versed in small arms combat and had  shed blood for her cause before.

Bauer slurped up the final dregs of strong tea that remained in his mug and hoisted himself to his feet. Hawkins bent double to rummage through his pack producing a small bread roll and an apple which he had snaffled the previous night and left it upon the coffee table.

“Excellent.” Bauer whispered as he recognised the fact that Hawkins had the orphaned boy fresh in this thoughts.

“I
will
be back for him.” Bauer said with assertiveness. Hawkins had no reason to disbelieve him; he had yet to give him any reason to doubt.

CHAPTER 18

Hawkins drove the smoking truck cautiously as Genevieve sat beside him with Bauer, both clutching the vanquished enemy’s MP44 assault rifles, the Germans' poking out of the open passenger side window. It seemed the nearer they grew to the sizeable town of Caen, the more destruction was evident as they trundled down the road. For the first time, Hawkins caught a glimpse of a formidable Tiger tank. It sat dormant in the adjacent field; its bulk was smoking heavily as if it had been silenced by an artillery shell or 'Panzerschreck' grenade launcher. A few yards further down the road, a tracked troop-carrying vehicle was also heavily damaged and its complement of grey clad Wehrmacht soldiers were strewn asunder across the tarmac and into the verge. Hawkins was glad he missed the battle which had clearly not ended well for the defending German soldiers. He looked over to Bauer who was melancholy in his expression. Hawkins tried not to forget that some of these men were colleagues and possibly friends of acquaintances.

The truck suddenly slowed and Bauer glanced over to Hawkins who had seen something significant as he passed by.

“What are you doing, John?” Bauer inquired as the truck squeaked to a stand-still.

“We only have a few mags left for the MP44's.” He said as he opened the door and jumped from the driver's seat. Bauer knew his young ally was right, if they were to encounter more enemy, then more plentiful ammunition would be essential. They had chosen to take the powerful and highly accurate rifles to use in favour of the British armaments. If there was one thing the German engineers got right, it was their superior small arms.

Scouting the area where at least twenty or thirty bodies lay, the familiar acrid stench of a fallen 'Kalter Soldat' filled the nostrils of the scavengers. Whilst Bauer picked up the destroyed soldier's magazines, Hawkins made a beeline for a more devastating weapon, an MG42 which lay stricken beneath a dead soldier. Bauer sniffed a chortle of laughter as he saw Hawkins efforts to retrieve the gun which was essentially a very long barrel accompanied by a heavy box of rounds.

“One and a half thousand rounds per minute. It will be good while it lasts.” Bauer said as he slapped Hawkins upon his back.

“We need enough fire-power to buy us time. Grenades will be useful.” Hawkins replied but Genevieve had already begun to load her arms with 'potato mashers'. Bauer and Hawkins shared a moment of amusement as they watch the slim woman scurry about the dead raiding them of their unused explosives.

“If all of these guys could only take down a single dead soldier, how are we going to manage?” Hawkins said as he stopped to reflect on the carnage.

“We are not travelling to Caen to wage war on them, John. We are going to find a way of putting an end to them permanently. At the heart of these beasts, there will be a machine which is enabling their control. I have seen it,
used
it. I intend to find it and destroy it.” Bauer remarked nobly.

“What do you think the machine was for originally?” Hawkins pondered, remembering that this technology was something dug up from ages past.

“I truly do not know. Perhaps it was a way for these ancient people to live through each other's eyes, experience something that cannot be achieved through normal means, to leave one's own body and be someone else entirely. Or, perhaps it was a tool for conquest; maybe the human race was destined to be enslaved but something went wrong or they changed their minds. I do not know. I rather like to think that the first idea was the right one.”

Hawkins struggled to take in Bauer's revelatory information.

“So when you used it, you enjoyed the control?” Hawkins plundered his reserves of free thinking.

“I quickly understood the power of the machine. There were elements of pleasure but also great horror. Whoever is using this machine must be experiencing incredible feelings I can only dare imagine. I understand why they must use the dead to do their work, for if they controlled the living, they would share every sensation both physical and emotional as part of the experience. I have already died once; I could not do it again.”

Hawkins face was a picture; he was certainly out of his depth philosophically. Genevieve rejoined the men, her arms full of deadly grenades and Bauer quickly changed the subject.

“I trust you know how to use them.” He asked the girl sarcastically. Genevieve did not even give him the pleasure of a dirty look.

Loading the rear of the truck with as much weaponry and ammunition they could muster, they were once again back on the road and traversing the cloud covered Bocage. Genevieve discussed entry strategies into the sprawling town and favoured a narrow back road which would allow them to take a view of the town before them without committing themselves to a major road or passing by a check point. The men had no reason to distrust her. Although Genevieve's destination was set in her mind, Bauer was yet to discover his goal and much would depend on what state the town itself was in. Certainly the plumes of grey which were viewed ahead in the distance were an indication that there may have been a full scale battle in the past twenty four hours. Hawkins was still undecided upon his fate. He felt compelled to aid Genevieve as promised but he now felt duty bound to help his new German friend in what was altogether a more vital if not suicidal mission.

As the truck climbed over a rise, its occupants were offered the first real view of the Caen vista. The centre of the town was dominated by the taller buildings, a tall church's double spires were prominent and as the buildings lessened in their dimensions, the outskirts seemed to be populated by quaint town-houses and sporadically dotted trees. Hawkins slowed the truck to a grinding halt, steam now escaping the radiator; it was not long for this world. Looking out across the town in contemplative silence, they noted the tell-tale signs of conflict across the whole conurbation. Thick, acrid smoke and damaged buildings from artillery fire conjured memories of other major towns which had seen full scale battle such as Brest, Warsaw and to some extent, Stalingrad.

“My God, is there anyone who could have escaped alive?” Genevieve whispered as she craned her neck to get a better view.

“If the source of the soldiers was indeed Caen, it can be assumed that the residents may have suffered terribly.” Bauer replied, knowing full well that Genevieve's mother was likely to be one of the many casualties.

“But you said there was a strong Wehrmacht presence here, Panzer divisions; how could they have been routed by so few so quickly?” Hawkins was sceptical that even the might of the 'cold soldiers' was not great enough to overpower hundred if not thousands of German troops.

“I estimated only that there were two or three hundred 'Kalte Soldaten'. I may have been incorrect or perhaps they have processed more in recent days or hours?”

Hawkins turned to Bauer with a thoughtful look upon his face.

“Hang on; are you saying that more might be produced even now after they've turned on their creators? How is that possible?”

Bauer shook his head.

“You are asking questions that I myself am thinking! When you are an army consisting of dead men, recruiting another soldier is surely as easy as pulling a trigger of a gun.”

Genevieve pitched in, contrary to her usual style, she offered an opinion.

“It could not be that simple. We have seen the bodies need processing, surgical implantation, specific nutrition. It seems unlikely that the dead soldiers would have the means to perform these tasks.” Genevieve seemed sure of herself and she was most probably right too.

“Then we must hope that the German soldiers here have reduced their enemies' number and have died for something. If indeed they are multiplying, the world will surely fall.” Bauer was unusually downbeat.

“I don't get it.” Hawkins butted in. “Conquest is different to extermination. If whoever is controlling these things wants power to rule, then surely it doesn’t seem right to just kill your new subjects.”

“I agree.” Bauer replied. “It does not make much sense at the moment. Perhaps they are buying time, fortifying their stronghold. If the processing of numbers takes time, then it would be logical to wipe out anything that moves whilst they build their forces.”

“This is insane.” Hawkins added perhaps only now realising the scale of what was to come.

“However, if they have not multiplied and are recovering from heavy losses, now would be the time to strike!” Genevieve remarked boldly, she had grown in confidence in recent hours and appeared far less concerned for her mother's well-being than seemed natural.

“How do you want to proceed?” Hawkins asked Bauer as he rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Slip in quietly, move from house to house. On foot we are elusive. There will no doubt be others who lay in wait for the right time to fight back.” Bauer seemed focussed and intense. Retribution was at hand and more than a good helping of redemption to boot. Bauer understood that this was his mess that he must clean up should he ever again walk with his head held high.

CHAPTER 19

Hawkins, Bauer and Genevieve unloaded the truck and took with them everything they could possibly carry. Utilising Granger's blood soaked back-pack, Bauer emptied then filled it. Ammunition was the most important factor now and other survival paraphernalia was laid to waste at the roadside. Hawkins took a few moments in silence before leaving his friend for what would likely be the last time. He made a solemn promise to at least seek some atonement for his untimely death before stepping down from the vehicle with the aid of Bauer, who had become an emotional rock for him in recent hours. Hawkins and Bauer once again watched the resilient Genevieve prepare herself for the incursion into enemy territory and it begged the question that Hawkins seemed reluctant to ask.

“She is a strange one.” The Brit commented to Bauer as he closed the ludicrously heavy pack that would be a great effort to even lift let alone carry.

“Indeed. I would not become too attached, she serves only one master.” Hawkins frowned at Bauer's cryptic message.

“Do you mean she's married?” The Brit asked foolishly. Bauer shook his head knowingly.

“She does not need looking after; clearly she can take care of herself. Just do not be distracted by her needs, you know what lay ahead for us, hmm?”

Bauer put his hand upon Hawkins' shoulder. The young man knew what he was being asked, it was to take responsibility and rise to the occasion. There was something historic about the opportunity that presented itself here and it did not escape the Yorkshire man. He was in a position to make a difference. From his formative years in the Marines, that was all that he ever wanted. With the advent of war and the disgraceful loss of life on all sides, it seemed almost impossible to feel as if his efforts were in aid of something great and good. After months of fighting, the insignificance of his role seemed to grow by the day and his life less important than it ought to be. By taking action now, he was perhaps one of the very few that remained with a shot at ending the War that was about to be renewed, but with a far more insidious and lethal enemy than ever before.