Sherlock Holmes and the Zombie Problem (16 page)

Within a few minutes all of the plates were clean, we had all witnessed horrible events, but none of it had ruined our appetites, thankfully, because we two were on the limits of our energy. When we had finished up, Peter and his boy began clearing away, and just for that short time in the inn, we had truly relaxed.
“We must set watches for the night,” said Holmes.
“Indeed, but you are tired. I will take the first, my guests will cycle every hour, this will give you four hours rest before I call one of you to take over,” said Peter.
A wise plan, the barricades appeared well prepared by the landlord, but we still could only speculate at the enemy’s strength and capability, we would all sleep better knowing someone was on watch.
When all was done, Peter showed us upstairs to our rooms, where we were sure to take all of our weapons and ammunition before settling down, he then left us for the night. I removed my jacket and placed it upon the dresser, shortly followed by my shoulder holsters. Sitting down on my new bed, I took off my shoes and socks and sat in bliss at the relative comfort I now possessed, at least for a short while. The room was truly a wonderful place to be, and certainly the calm before the storm, it was decorated with lovely wood furniture, maintained and cleaned to such exceptional standards, this was a proud landlord.
Holmes strolled into my room and sat down on the chair beside the bed, sitting back comfortably in it, experiencing the same relief that I had. He had clearly been doing some hard thinking about our current position, for we were momentarily safe, but I knew, before long, we must set off to end this matter once and for all.
“This new information could lead to the final leg of our journey tomorrow, for whether either of these two locations lead to Moriarty, we will likely find some conclusion before the day is out,” said Holmes.
“You mean either we or him will die?” I replied.
“Indeed.”
“There are no more precautions to take, no more plans to make, we can only step into the mouth of the lion and give him hell,” said Holmes.
We did indeed face the possibility of our deaths tomorrow, but how would that make tomorrow any different than today, or yesterday? I for one would be glad to see an end to this adventure, for I was weary in every way. Our ammunition drew thin, our bodies were worn and our minds at their wits end.
“Do you believe Peter and his patrons can hold this inn?” I asked.
“No, not for more than a few hours, or against large odds,” said Holmes.
“Is there nothing we can do for them?” I asked
“Yes, we can soldier on and complete our task,” Holmes replied.
It was indeed true, the two of us could only extend the length of a potential siege, that was no good to anyone. We had left many people behind since this journey had begun, it never felt any easier, but it did re-enforce our resolve to end this villain quickly and completely.
“Let us at least get some sleep tonight, for we shall likely need all the strength we can summon tomorrow,” said Holmes.
This was music to my ears. Sleep had been all too few and far between recently, and in less than desirable settings. Now we could lay down in what at least was still internally, a lovely inn. Holmes rose to his feet and left my room for his. We both had watch duty tonight, but a few quiet hours would be wondrous. I lay down on the bed, with my shoes removed but fully dressed, I had laid my pistols on the dresser, but kept the holsters on, we could not risk being caught unawares if a fight came to us. It was just a few short moments until I was comfortably asleep.
Hours had passed of soothing sleep, when I was abruptly awoken by multiple loud gunshots. I leapt from my bed and snatched up my two Adams guns, rushing to the stairs, still barefoot. A breech in the perimeter or worse, a horde attack at this time of night was about the worst timing that could be. I reached the top of the stairs; all was silent and motionless, this was unsettling.
I stepped carefully and cautiously down each step, both revolvers held ready to fire. Reaching the bottom of the stairs I took the turn into the hallway and a pulsing light caught my eye, it was Holmes’ tobacco pipe. He stood casually looking at me, lighting his pipe in a triumphant manner. Peering behind him I could see a window smashed, its barricade half destroyed and a zombi slumped on the window sill, its blood dripping down the wall to the floor. The gaping hole that the shotgun had caused at such close range had left a whole larger than a cricket ball in the beast’s head, and you could simply peer in and see the bloodied remains of its brain.
“Any more?” I asked.
Holmes drew back on his pipe, before finally looking up at me.
“No, these were simply stragglers.”
“Then we were lucky.”
“Without a doubt, we can only hope that there are not more within hearing distance of the shots already fired.”
That was not a desirable thought in that we had to simply wait to find out whether an army bore down upon us or whether we were still safe for the night. Both of us took chairs and sat down, I holstered my Adams guns whilst Holmes casually drew back on his pipe, shotgun propped against the wall. We dared not make a sound. The sound of people storming down the stairs above us was all too late and now the last of our desires. Peter stormed into the room, stopping at the sight of the slumped body.
“Shhhh!” said Holmes.
The landlord and guests stood silent at the command of Holmes. Shocked at the sight, but willing to follow his word. Holmes then whispered to them.
“The gunshots may draw more, so be silent and ready.”
“Are these beasts drawn by sound?” asked Peter.
“We do not know for sure and can only rely on what we have seen. They appear to be drawn by sight and sound, just as we are, their senses likely being just as effective as ours, seeing as they inhabit the same bodies as we do,” said Holmes.
Peter nodded in response and stood like a statue, waiting for the unwelcome sound of further beasts. We waited for five minutes, the only movement being Holmes’ pipe smoke wafting across the room. We could only hope that we were now safe, for many of our weapons and ammunition lay upstairs, and I had no desire to fight for my life with no shoes. However we saw or heard nothing more. Finally Holmes broke the silence.
“Peter, get this window secured and then let us get the further rest we need.”
“This must be my watch,” I said.
Holmes nodded, and watched as Peter pushed the dead creature from his window with a broom and began to stack chairs and other furniture up in the hole that now breeched the building. We had just an hour till light, and it was my turn, I was glad of the few hours sleep I had gotten. The broken window was now as secure as it could be.
“Go and get what rest you can before dawn, I will keep watch,” I said.
Holmes, Peter and the others returned upstairs without argument. The last moments of the night went without incident as I sat casually in the kitchen area.
In just a few hours we would be setting off, two men, with limited ammunition, it was woefully inadequate for the foes we face. Watching the sun rise was one of the few beautiful sights that I had witnessed in the last few days, but it made me long to be home in England, free of the zombis of course.
As the light hit the inn, Peter was already making his way quickly down the stairs to me, whilst Holmes was firmly asleep. He would only awaken if someone made him, though Peter made to preparing breakfast, and the smell of food soon got him moving.
As Peter busied himself in making breakfast I began stripping my guns down to clean them with cloths and oil that the landlord had kindly provided. All of the weapons I carried were now dry and caked in residue, jams and misfires were becoming ever more likely if this maintenance was not done. I never liked putting a gun away dirty, but hard times called for such mistreatment.
Over breakfast Peter explained our pending journey to us, though he could not provide any more information on the person who we suspected to be Moriarty, and was evidently sceptical about our assumptions. Our day’s journey would be a beautiful one, only marred by the knowledge that it would likely end in a significant battle, perhaps our last.
At Peter’s advice, on the afternoon of the 4th we set off together with the intention of crossing the hills and spending the night at the hamlet of Rosenlaui. However, making a small detour to the falls of Reichenbach, which are about halfway up the hill on our route. In all honesty, not even the great detective had any idea what to expect, if anything, at either location, only that both were of some relevance to our villain’s travels and were therefore our only leads.
Despite this feeling of impending doom, we managed to stay surprisingly sprightly along the paths, admiring the rolling mountains, rocky and craggy terrain, lakes and rivers, it really was a fascinating country. Eventually we came across the sign for Rosenlaui, and the turning that Peter had told us about to the Reichenbach. Following the path he had explained the massive falls eventually came in to view.
It was indeed, a fearful place. The torrent, swollen by the melting snow, plunged into a tremendous abyss from which the spray rolled up like the smoke from a burning house. The shaft into which the river hurled itself was an immense chasm, lined by glistening coal-black rock, and narrowing into a creaming, boiling pit of incalculable depth which brimmed over shooting the stream onward over its jagged lip. The long sweep of water roared forever down and the thick flickering curtain of spray hissed forever upward. It would turn a man giddy with their constant whirl and clamour. We stood near the edge peering down at the gleam of the breaking water far below us against the black rocks, and listening to the half human shout which came booming up with the spray out of the abyss.
The path has been cut halfway round the fall to afford a complete view, but it ended abruptly, and the traveller had to return as he came. We had turned to do so, when we saw a Swiss lad come running along it with a letter in his hand. It bore the mark of the inn which we had just left, and was addressed to me by the landlord. I already did not like the look of this, for Peter would never have despatched his lad into this war torn land to find us without a very good reason.
The letter had been written quickly and abruptly. It appeared that just a short while after leaving, they had come under attack by a few dozen zombis and their number continued to rise. The lower floor had fallen quite quickly. The inhabitants had safely barricaded the stairway to the upper floors and were holding out with just the few guns and ammunition they had, not enough to survive for long. The boy had escaped via rope and covering fire to safety to alert us. The letter requested my urgent assistance as a former soldier and good soul. Here was a tough choice before me, for our mission was more important than anything in the world now, but the thought of those who had assisted us now fighting for their lives was not a good feeling.
The appeal was one which could not be ignored. It was impossible to refuse the request of innocent and decent folk. Yet I had my scruples about leaving Holmes. It was finally agreed, however, that he should retain the young Swiss boy with him as guide and companion while I returned to Meiringen. My friend would stay some little time at the fall, as bait to the villain, and would then intend to walk slowly over the hill to Rosenlaui. Should conflict and victory ensue, I was to rejoin him there in the evening. As I turned away I saw Holmes, with his back against a rock and his arms folded, clearly deep in thought and planning the next conflict, gazing down at the rush of the waters. It was the last that I was ever destined to see of him in this world.
When I was near the bottom of the descent I looked back. It was impossible from that position to see the fall, but I could see the curving path which wound over the shoulder of the hill and lead to it.
Along this a man was, I remember, walking very rapidly. I could see his black figure clearly outlined against the green behind him. I noted him, and the energy with which he walked but he passed from my mind again as I hurried on upon my errand.

It may have been a little over an hour before I reached Meiringen, far from the easy pace that I had made on the way up, this was a rushed affair that left me flustered and tired, I was rushing as much to assist the inn as I was to get the task over with so that I could return to Holmes. My mouth was now dry, for I had not had water since leaving Peter’s establishment. My knees ached from both the initial climb and the fast descent, but willpower drove me forwards with all the momentum needed. When this was all over I would likely spend many days in pain, for all the damage my body had received, but for now, I did not care, being alive was good enough.

Arriving at the edge of the town I could see the odd zombi staggering towards the inn which was not yet in sight. Shotguns roared in the direction of Peter Steiler’s place, the sound was clearly drawing in any nearby creatures. In the rush to get back here I had not truly given any serious consideration to tactics, how was I to get to the survivors?

Shouldering my rifle I quickly took aim at the nearest creature that was blocking my path, and fired to the side of the head. The round struck the beast’s right ear, chipping the top of it off before cleanly bursting into theskull, the power of the round throwing the beast sideways to the ground, lifeless. One creature now blocked my path and the gunshot alerted it to my presence. The beast turned towards me as I pulled the straight pull of my rifle. Its jaw widened as it hissed in spite and hatred at me. The beautiful over-engineered racking of the rifle bolt clicked forward, ready to deal out death once more. The creature stumbled towards me now ten yards away, but the rifle was firmly aimed at its head. For a moment I looked at it, a woman. She likely had been in her twenties and wearing the ruined remains of a beautiful frock, blood now dripping onto it from her foul mouth. This was once an upstanding and beautiful lady, just one moment of doubt ran through my mind before sense prevailed, I squeezed the trigger and the round ripped through the creature’s skull. Still standing, blood drained from the gaping head wound down the dress, the eyes went lifeless, and finally she toppled to the ground.

Conscience could be a dangerous emotion in this new time of supernatural war. Whatever these beasts used to be they are now all the same, equally as dangerous and disgusting, there was no time for hesitation, for that could quickly lead to death. I had at least made a small culling of the soon to be besiegers.