"Bloody hell..." thought Col. Murdock. He rubbed the back of his head as he got up. There was a bolt of pain coming from there. "What the hell happened here?" he thought to himself. "Oh, right. The accident." He looked at all the debris of the plane that was on the ground. "Goddamned yanks don't know how to fly a plane. Well, better look for shelter..." He thought. "Wonder if there are any survivors."
Suddenly he saw someone coming towards him. He was moving kinda weirdly, as if he didn't have any balance. "What the...? Is there a drunk out here?" Through the thick fog, Murdock didn't see if it was a Jerry or a Yank. He drew his browning revolver and cried out. "Hello? Who are you? Are you american? Ich bin.." Damn...what was the word for armed? "ah-rmead." He said in a weird german accent.
Suddenly when he saw clearly what it was, he fell to his knees. He couldn't believe his eyes. He did not know what he was looking at. He raised his gun slowly and aimed for it's head. He fired one shot. Some blood came out of his head but he did not fall down. He kept walking drunkenly towards him. He said a quick prayer. Very quick. The words barely made sense. "hailmaryfullofgrace..." He fired another two shots and then it started running towards him. He sat down on the ground. He just watched the thing dashing towards him. He did not try to run away. He did not even scream. He was paralysed. He just sat there, thinking about something personal in his life, probably a daughter he has or a dog he played with when he was a young lad.
He just sat there thinking about those things while the thing ate his flesh and opened his stomach and gored him to death. Only when the thing ripped his jaw off did he scream a terrible, inhuman shriek.
"Okay, gotta find shelter..." thought Capt. John Grant. He scratched his beard and went looking for a place where other survivors might have gone. He heard a yell not far from where he was. He decided it to be wise to start moving fast. He started running in a random direction when suddenly he noticed a house. "Oh thank god." He thought. He drew his colt and went up to the boarded up house. "Is anyone in there?" He yelled, not so wisely he thought right away. A man looked out from the window.
"Flash!" He yelled.
"Thunder." The Captain noticed there wasnt a door. "You americans?"
"Hey John! It's me Micky." A third voice yelled. Oh thank god, thought Grant.
"How'de you get in here?"
"Just tear down one of the boards, we'll fix it up." Grant wondered how many survivors were there in there. Five. Maybe six? He was surprised when he noticed a total of ten survivors. Eleven counting himself. He already knew a few of them. Micky, James, Krysinski and Ralph, an asshole with the loudest mouth ever.
"So, what do we do now?" Asked John.
"Well, we don't know to be honest. We thought we'd wait 'till daylight before making any plans." John nodded his head.
"Yeah, alright. Uh... Ralph... you, Krysinski and me are on watch." After some smartass remarque from Ralph, they each went to a barricaded window, while the others went to try and get some sleep. Not ten minutes later, Krysinski said.
"Contact." Captain Grant went up to him.
"Let him pass. Hopefully he didn't see us."
"You sure sir? I could kill him now, he ain't with nobody." Meanwhile, the nazi kept approaching to the house.
"Shit, is he drunk? Okay shoot him. But no loose ends huh? One shot in the head." Krysinski shot him and he fell to the ground. He chuckled.
"Huh...looks like this is going to be an easy night." That's when the nightmare began...