Undead in the Eternal City: 1918 by Will Hill

Author:Will Hill
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-02-18T05:00:00+00:00

“After it!” shouted Captain Quincey Harker. “After it, men!”

The foul creature that was floating away down the alleyway was not the same abomination that had killed Thorpe; that had been Quincey’s first terrible, panicked thought, when its eyes had turned red and he had seen the bright white fangs in its mouth, and it had paralysed him, so much so that he had not actually given his men the order to fire.

The initiative had been taken, as it so often was, by Private Potts. Before Harker’s eyes, the drunken, swaying boy had disappeared, replaced instantaneously by a professional killer with a target before him. The Lee-Enfield rifle had been at the young man’s shoulder so quickly it had appeared a blur, then the first deafening report had echoed through the narrow alley, snapping the monster’s head backwards, blood spraying into the air. His paralysis snapped by the ruthless, frightening precision of his sniper, Harker had grabbed his Webley from its holster and joined in, firing at the writhing, howling creature, reloading and firing again. Now he and his men were running, their boots clattering on the street as it tried to escape them, its partner’s body slung around its back like some sort of grotesque shield.

They were gaining on it when the monster reached the end of the alleyway, burst out on to Via del Tritone, turned west, and disappeared momentarily from view.

“It’s getting away!” yelled Kavanagh, but then a chorus of screams pierced the night air ahead of them and they knew he was wrong.

The Special Reconnaissance Unit hurtled out of the alleyway at a flat sprint and accelerated down the wide street. Via del Tritone was crowded with people: gangs of soldiers reeling drunkenly in swaying lines; couples strolling arm in arm; vendors and thieves and pickpockets working their patches with consummate professionalism. But through the middle of the crowd there was a wide, empty corridor, formed by gaping men and women who were staring in the direction the creature had fled.

The five men ran through the crowd, ducking and dodging as the frozen onlookers began to emerge from their shock, their brains already working overtime to rationalise away what they had just seen with their own eyes. Potts, the youngest and the lightest, was in the lead, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his feet flying across the cobbles as he fought to catch up with the thing with the red eyes and fangs.

They could see it now, less than fifty yards ahead of them, weaving from side to side. It was now no more than five feet above the ground, and the body of the woman hung low across its waist.

It’s tiring, thought Harker, his head pounding with excitement. We’ve got it.

At Via del Corso, the shambling, broken creature turned north-west and the soldiers followed. They were gaining with every step, now close enough to see the fear in its eyes as it looked over its shoulder at ever increasing intervals. Potts suddenly skidded to a halt, dropped to one knee, and brought his rifle to his shoulder.

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