Free By the Blood of Heroes by Joseph Nassise Page B

intestines as it burrowed deeper . . .
    Better do something, Jack, before it’s too late!
    With his head spinning, Freeman did the one thing he’d been trying to avoid since first laying eyes on the hideous creature.
    He drew his pistol, shoved it against the rotting flesh of the shambler’s forehead, and pulled the trigger. Blood, brains, and bone splashed across his face as the shambler’s skull exploded beneath the force of the bullet.
    Heaving the now unmoving body off him for the second time that day, Freeman dragged himself several feet away and sat with his pistol aimed at the corpse, afraid that it might still find some way of coming after him despite all the damage.
    That was how the German soldiers who had been summoned back by his gunshot found him some time later. So unnerved was he by the shambler’s ability to continue fighting long after it should have stopped, he didn’t even look away from the corpse as the soldiers snatched his gun out of his hands and dragged him to his feet.

Chapter Eight
     
    THE LABORATORY
     
    B urke had been awake for over an hour by the time Sergeant Moore showed up to escort him to his appointment with Professor Graves. Burke probably could have gone on his own, as it wasn’t that far, but since he was still under the doctors’ care they wouldn’t let him out of the facility without an escort.
    So with Charlie there to steady him if the distance proved too much for his recovering body to handle, Burke headed off down the hall and out into the early morning. He could smell the corpse fires the minute he stepped outside; they had been burning overtime to deal with the aftermath of the latest attack. The air had a greasy, sooty feel to it, and the taste of ash clogged the back of his throat.
    Another beautiful day in the war effort, Burke thought sourly.
    It was only a few minutes’ walk from the entrance of the hospital to the bunker complex that Professor Graves had commandeered for use as his laboratory. The complex had started life as a deep dugout that served as protection for artillery and mortar attacks, and over the last several months had been expanded into a literal warren of passageways and rough-hewn chambers in which to test Graves’s various projects. Burke had never been beyond the main chamber; he had no desire to venture into the dark depths of that underground kingdom. Dealing with the professor himself was creepy enough sometimes; he didn’t want to see what peculiarities the man had generated down there in the dark.
    Apparently, the same held true for Charlie. As the two men approached the entrance to the “facility,” sandwiched as it was between piles of sandbags, the sergeant slowed, then said, “You all right from here?”
    Burke cast a glance in his direction. “Aren’t you going in with me?”
    “Not a chance.”
    “Coward.”
    Charlie laughed. “I like to think of it as the better part of valor. I’ll be waiting right here for you when you come out,” he said, settling back against a pile of sandbags and reaching for his cigarettes.
    “Thanks a lot.”
    “Anytime, Captain, anytime.”
    Entrance to the bunker was gained through a cast-iron door several inches thick. It was currently propped open with a packing crate to allow some fresh air to make its way inside. Two guards stood outside it and they nodded at Burke as he passed by. Just beyond the doors was a long flight of stairs, nineteen steps in all, which led down into the complex itself. Burke took his time on the stairs, not wanting to slip and fall with only one hand to brace himself.
    As far as Burke had been able to ascertain, the professor had only two interests in life: mechanical devices and shamblers. While one was certainly better than the other, as far as Burke was concerned neither of them was all that natural.
    Or healthy.
    Graves was one of Nikola Tesla’s prize students, so it made sense that he spent a good part of his time with his hands in the guts of a