The Shoebox Pursuit - Part 1 - Monsters and Machines Read online

CHAPTER FOUR

  The men daren’t move. The howling was bloodthirsty and menacing, and as suddenly as it started it ceased. The silence that followed was just as alarming, but it didn’t last long. They heard something else. At first they couldn’t quite make it out, except that it was like the sound of distant thunder. And then they all realised - it was the noise of galloping rolling down the hills. The pack was coming for them.

  The men barely had time to pull their guns, as from out of the shadows the Nazi-wolves attacked. They smashed their way through the camp like the rampaging wild herd they were becoming. They looked bigger, their uniforms were in tatters, they were more animal than man this time, and barked and snapped at the men as they ran along on all fours. Tents collapsed, soldiers flew through the air and guns fired. The battle was back on.

  There wasn’t a moment to spare. Yankee and Doodle tore out of their tent, screaming at the top of their lungs, guns in both hands, firing at anything not human. Charlie emerged behind them, the unconscious Billy draped over his shoulders and a shielding arm around Specks, who was carrying a lantern.

  It was absolute chaos. The soldiers fought with all their strength, running, leaping, shooting - anything they could do to stay one step ahead of the monsters. But there were too many of them, and they kept coming.

  ‘This way,’ said Charlie, leading the way through the clash.

  They dashed across the camp, doing their best to aid their comrades as they went. Then from out of nowhere an exceptionally large Nazi-wolf pounced, landing in front of them all, blocking their escape. It snarled at them and raised its sharp claws. The brothers didn’t even think. Fingers already on the trigger, they raised their guns and unloaded every bullet they had into the thing, yelling like crazy men, perhaps enjoying themselves a little too much. The beast roared back at them, but they just kept on firing. Yankee, out of bullets, quickly holstered his pistols and pulled the sub-machine gun from behind his back, immediately continuing with the onslaught, eager to kill the creature. Not wanting to feel left out, Doodle holstered his own pistols and grabbed his shotgun, taking a few brave steps forward and shooting the thing at close range. Until finally, at long length, it dropped.

  ‘Now that’s what I’m talking about,’ yelled Yankee in triumph, raising his sub-machine gun into the air.

  ‘Stars and stripes, you Nazi dog! Stars and stripes,’ remarked Doodle, standing over the beasts floored body, his shotgun resting on his shoulder.

  ‘Actually, as per my previous statement, if myth is in fact… Fact,’ harped up Specks.

  ‘It is,’ snapped the brothers, advancing on the geek.

  ‘Then… only a silver bullet would have any lasting effect on these werewolves.’

  The brothers faces dropped at the bombshell, and not a moment too soon. The Nazi-wolf quickly burst back to life, rising to all fours, then standing on its hind legs. Yankee, Doodle and Specks all screamed like school girls. It barked back at them, then lurched forward, going for the kill. But Charlie jumped in the way. Impressively using the unconscious Billy like a tool, still draped across his shoulders, Charlie twisted himself around and smacked the beast straight in the jaw with the young man’s metal arm. The impact was immense and the sound was nauseating - clearly something had broken. The beast fell to the floor, expelling all the air from its lungs. It wasn’t waking up anytime soon. The boys looked at Charlie awestruck.

  ‘What?’ said Charlie, noticing the stares. ‘Specks said it was stronger than steel. I wanted to test his theory!’

  The boys smiled at him, more than impressed, but the moment was fleeting. Around them the situation was going from bad to worse. They were outnumbered, and the Nazi-wolves were growing ever more hostile. They were losing. Charlie needed an idea and he needed it fast. He looked around, frantic. And then he saw it, their only chance of survival - the river.

  ‘Head for the river,’ he shouted. ‘We’ll take our chances downstream.’

  Over the mayhem the men could barely make out the order, but they were grateful for it. And with no shilly-shallying they began to make their move, battling their way through the Nazi-wolves, forcing themselves ever closer to the water. Charlie went to run, but Yankee grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, sounding perplexed. ‘You serious? We’re really gonna run?’

  Charlie stopped for a second. He could see the looks of concern on their faces.

  ‘Boys,’ he replied, his voice was soft and sincere, but time was of the essence. ‘A fight is only worth fighting if one stands a chance of winning.’ He allowed them a second to think on it. They nodded in agreement. ‘Good. Now let’s go.’

  Charlie ran through the conflict, his boys right behind him. They darted through stray bullets, claw swipes, horrendous profanities and vicious snarls. A few of the men were down, a couple had already jumped into the river, whilst the rest fought valiantly against the beasts.

  The group were getting close to the river. It was within reach. They could hear its running waters. But just then a Nazi-wolf collided into the group, separating Charlie and Billy from the boys. Charlie picked himself up and swiftly assessed the situation.

  ‘Get to the river,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll catch you up.’ But Yankee and Doodle took a step toward Charlie and the beast. ‘Boys,’ said Charlie, seeing their movement. ‘If you take one step closer you’ll find me and the Nazis have something in common!’

  Reluctantly, Yankee and Doodle obeyed, grabbing Specks, and heading towards the river, his feet barely touching the ground in the hustle. Along with the last of the soldiers they jumped into the water and were instantly washed downstream in its overpowering flow. They were all gone, leaving Charlie alone.

  Charlie and the beast locked eyes. The pair paced the ground, moving from left to right, matching each other step for step, whilst Billy’s unconscious body lay between them. The beast lunged at Charlie, but he was spry. Having placed himself exactly where he wanted to be, he leapt out the way and the beast tumbled clumsily into a tent, which collapsed. It rolled around the ground, its furious struggles doing little more than furthering its entanglement. Somehow it found its way to its feet, though it was lost in the confusion of the tent. Charlie wasted no time. Round and round he went, wrapping the thing up with wires and cloth, whatever the tent threw at him. The beast roared, and lashed out, but it was too entwined to do anything. Charlie chuckled to himself as he booted the beast over, watching it roll away, struggling to free itself. He saw the lantern Specks had dropped only moments ago. Snatching it from the ground, he threw it at the beast, and it shattered on impact. In spite of the damp conditions the oil inside spread, and the flame ignited, setting the defeated beast alight as it rolled off into the distance. Charlie couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. But his smile quickly vanished as he turned and saw the rest of the Nazi-wolves advancing on him. He looked around - all his men were either dead or somewhere downstream. Charlie had the pack’s full attention.

  ‘Evening chaps,’ he said, in a vain attempt to ease his own tension. The pack advanced, snarling and drooling. ‘Not much for chat, eh?’ He was stalling for time. ‘Still, you Nazis never were much for talking. Man or beast. Am I right?’

  All of a sudden Charlie bolted forward, ripped the top off a crate and booted the thing over. A wealth of grenades rolled out into the pack. The Nazi-wolves looked at them, almost smiling at the seemingly useless things. Not only would a grenade not be able to kill a group of such powerful beasts, but they all still had their pins in. But Charlie was smart. He had a plan.

  ‘Any of you gentlemen ever played dominoes?’ he asked, tossing a lone grenade in his hand like a cricket ball. ‘No? Me neither. But I really fancy giving it a go. And as they say… there’s no time like the present!’

  He pulled the pin on the grenade and bowled it into the pack. It landed at their feet. Charlie quickly took a few large steps backwards, buying himself a little bit of distance from the oncoming exp
losion. He knew his plan wouldn’t kill them, but it would do one thing. It went off, the detonation hitting the other grenades. And one by one, in quick succession, each and every grenade exploded. There must have been a hundred of them there, and the blast was big. The Nazi-wolves flew into the air from the force, the weight of their enlarged bodies smashing them to the ground in massive bloody heaps - it was time to move.

  Charlie picked up Billy and threw him back over his shoulders. He ran for the river with everything he had left. But the Nazi-wolves were already stirring. Two of the werewolves were quick to their feet, already chasing him down. One snapped at him, barely missing his heels.

  ‘Close. But not too close,’ remarked Charlie as he doubled his efforts. The second lashed out, ripping away at his trousers and scarcely missing his flesh. ‘Okay. Too close. Too close.’

  Charlie jumped, splashing into the river with Billy and disappearing into its waters. Moments later they resurfaced, Charlie gasping for air. They were already being swept away with the current, and he watched the pack quickly fading into the distance.

  ‘I wonder why they don’t jump,’ he speculated.

  It didn’t take long to find out.

  The river ran wild. It hooked left and right, weaved around jagged rocks, and through an abundance of gloomy trees. It was deadly. And it only got worse. Before him, coming up terrifyingly fast, and letting out a deafening roar, was a sheer drop. He looked around, hopeful to see his men struggling up the river banks somewhere. But there was no-one. They must have gone over.

  ‘I hope you can hold your breath, Mr Random,’ remarked Charlie, clinging onto the young man as best he could.

  There was no point in fighting it. If his men went over, then that’s exactly where he was going. He closed his eyes tight and muttered something to himself, the roar of the water overpowering his words. They reached the drop - there was no turning back now. Consumed by the sheer ferociousness of the water, they vanished from sight.