You never think your plane will go down.

We were flying to a base in germany, where we were to be stationed. We were several miles from the base, when it happened. The clouds were underneath us, bright and fluffy. Underneath they were grey, probably crying.

I had decided to take a nap, and so I did. I closed my eyes, and drifted off, the dulled sound of the engine the last thing I heard.

The plane went down so fast I really didn't have time to wake up and recover my thoughts. I remember waking to a bunch of shaking, and I remember the heat I felt on my skin. Someone fell from a broken window, and we hit. All the while I didn't know where I was, who I was, or what I was doing.

I woke up soon enough, and the realization of what had happened hit me all to fast. I felt pain all over me, and when I looked up, all I saw was a smoldering crater. Someone's hand was laying a few feet from me, and a managed to sit up so I didn't have to look at it.

"Private…? Private Graham?" a voice said behind me.

I turned to see one of my fellow soldiers staggering to their feet. There were bruises all along his arms, and there was a nasty cut on his cheek. But I had a feeling he was a bit better off than me, as I was still trying to muster the strength to stand.

"Here," he muttered, lending me his blood-covered hand.

I took it, and pulled myself up on shaking legs. My right knee was in a lot of pain.

I looked around us, and saw the crater, several graves, and a run-down house with ivy growing along the sides.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Somewhere in Germany. Not to sure, though," he said, rubbing the wound on his cheek.

A thin layer of fog was setting in, and the November chill was starting to feel cold again on my burnt skin.

"Let's get inside," I managed, walking towards the house's front door, which was snapped in half.

I kicked it down (which was surprisingly easy) and peered inside.

It was very dusty, and relatively empty, other than the occasional piece of broken furniture. Not the ideal place to live, if you ask me.

I walked along the creaking wooden floor with my friend, taking in my surroundings. The house had a fireplace, which was good. It was getting progressively colder as the sun went down. It might even snow soon.

"Is there any lumber, here?" I asked.

"I'll check out back," he said, walking towards a back door.

While he was gone, I busied myself with the task of finding a replacement for the front door to keep some of the cold out. I searched the whole house, but I eventually had to settle for a round table, propping it up and securing it with a moldy old blood-stained couch.

Private Freeman returned, with a few old logs that had been chopped at least ten years ago, and had seen a lot of weather. He set them down in the fire place, and minutes later, we had a decent fire burning in the old place.

"I think that helps a little," I told him, standing in front of the fire.

"Yeah," he said. He looked around, and started to talk again, "This place gives me the creeps. And the fire doesn't help, 'cause of the shadows it's makin'. I say in the morning we try and make a signal to get out of here," he said.

Yes, I had to admit it: the old empty house was very spooky, and every little sound, like the house settling, made me nervous.

"Yeah, I said simply, walking away to pull up a few fallen chairs that were in decent condition. We sat down, letting our aching bodies rest in the fire's meager heat.

I must have drifted off, because a moment later, Freeman was shaking me lightly.

"Hey, did you hear that?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"It sounded like… like a panther or something. Like a woman screaming," he said.

"Do they even have panthers in Germany?" I said sleepily.

"Damned if I know. But that was cree- there it was again!" he exclaimed.

I sat still and listened intently. A moment later, I heard what did resemble a woman screaming. Or a panther, either one.

"Maybe it –"

The window shattered.

I jumped up, pulling out the pistol I had kept in my belt on the plane ride. Someone was crawling into the house.

"Who goes there?" Freeman yelled.

The person just gave this weird choked yell, and fell onto the floor. They staggered to their feet, and at first I thought it was a wounded soldier.

I was half right.

The person's skin looked charred and grey, and bits of it was flaking and hanging off. They were very thin, and they were missing several teeth. Their face was sunken in, their uniform looked like a very old… well, Nazi soldier uniform, and their eyes were red.

"Stop right there!" Freeman shouted, yanking out his gun aswell.

The person started to hobble towards us, growling like a rabid animal.

"Do we shoot 'em?" I asked nervously.

"Uh, yeah!" Freeman said, backing up.

I aimed for a second, and fired, hitting them right in the head.

He staggered a little, and then his legs buckled, and he fell flat on his face.

"That wasn't right… that couldn't have been a –"

Another window shattered in the kitchen, cutting me off. And then another. And then a third… rabid person, started crawling through the first window, followed by another.

"Oh crap!" I exclaimed, killing the first one I saw by emptying three rounds into it's chest.

"What's with these guys?" Freeman said, killing one.

"I don't think their guys!" I said, backing off towards the stairs, firing at anyone who got near.

More and more of these things were climbing into the house via window, and our situation was starting to look grim.

"What do we do?" Freeman cried, reloading his gun.

"Keep shooting," I said as calmly as possible, killing one with another headshot.

We backed into the upstairs bedroom, and slammed the door shut. We pushed the old bed in front of the door, and sat behind it, giving it extra support. The attackers were scratching and biting the door, growling and moaning.

"This is like a zombie movie!" Freeman said, reloading his last clip.

I was already out of ammo.

"You know, I think you're right."