In the distance a gout of fire rose into the sky. Lord brand needed help. The Sergeant of arms was not surprised. It was about noon the sky was black with ash. Sergeant of Arms Maxum was going to kill his boss now would be the time. That's why he had been sleeping during the mornings for the last couple of days. It was to dangerous for the commander to sleep through the night and the other time to attack would be around noon.
"We need to organize reinforcements," declared the old Sergeant. "I need third platoon to formed up. We have to bail the lord out."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Musket fire came from the perimeter fences.
"Dead men!" shouted the perimeter lines. "North lots of them."
"Dead men! South!" was called out from another direction.
"Dead men! East!" shouted the other side.
"Dead men! West side!" shouted the last century.
"Should have seen this coming," whispered Maxum. "All men to the line! Wake the fuck up!"
The old soldier felt a large ball of ice fill his stomach. The number of dead men needed to surround the bank was not small. They were here to keep my men tied up or to kill us. The old sergeant looked around at the men. Most where sleeping inside after guarding the walls at night. He would have liked to let them sleep.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The number of gunshots coming from around the walls was more than what the watchmen were capable of.
Three runners came in through the gates. They raced each other to the Sergeant.
"South gate!"
"East gate!" shouted the men over each other.
"West gate!"
The men looked at each other gasping. They nodded and one man and stepped back.
"The dead men," gasped the soldier. "They figured out guns."
"Fuck!" shouted Maxum.
Another runner was coming through the gate.
"They are shooting back I know!" shouted to the old man.
The runner looked surprised when he saw the other men. He turned for the powder magazine.
"The dead are shooting at you," declared the old soldier. "Make sure you take back enough powder and lead to put those dead men back down."
"Yes sergeant," responded the men before turning and running to the powder magazine.
The rest of the men ran from the surrounding building and tents. To slow for the old man's taste.
"Hurry! UP!" screamed Maxum. "Those boys on the line need help. Get your asses to the barricades now!"
The men ran faster to the gates muskets and cartridge boxes in hand. They didn't have all their clothes on, but they had all the fighting gear. Seventeen older men in yellow uniforms, they caried blunderbuss, sacks of grenades and wore breast plates.
"Make sure these kids hold," ordered the Sergeant of arms.
The collection of grenadiers nodded and began jogging shouting orders to groups of men. The collection of men moved faster like sheep being chased by a well-trained hounds. The old soldier marched out the compound. He walked quickly looking at every man. They new to be faster than him. Anyone who was slower out the gate than him would die by his hands.
As he made it to the gate he saw the two blocks of city and the barricade made of whatever could be pulled from the houses. Broken carriages and couches made the bulk of it.
The inside of the wall was covered in men loading and shooting guns into a crowd of half rotten people. A musket round struck the barricade sending splinters into a nearby kids eyes. He screamed as his face began to bleed. The kid wouldn't be shooting anything for a long while. The kid screamed in pain.
"Get this man off the line he's useless," shouted the sergeant.
One of the men in yellow grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off the line. The yellow coat lit a grenade and threw it into the approaching mob. With a boom chunks of dead people scattered across the street. The hole left in the line of corpses was quickly filled in by yet more dead men as they inched closer to the barricade.
The corpses shooting the muskets where shot almost to raged bits. Despite most of their stomachs being shot out they kept loading and shooting. The deathless bastards where stubborn. They weren't accurate or quick but they where still a threat.
Maxum leveled his blunderbuss. A squeeze of the trigger.
BOOM!
The shrapnel ripped out a dead musketeers spine cutting the rancid corpse in two. As the top half hit the ground and its legs began to walk to the barricade another dead man shambled out of an alley and picked up the musket.
The dead men reached the barricade and began to slam rotten fists into the pile of junk the men hid behind. The muskets fired once more before the men resorted to musket buts and hammers. The dead men beat and chewed as soldiers crushed heads and arms.
"Ah!!!" screamed a man grabbed by one of the dead men and pulled into the mob of teeth.
Boom!!!
An explosion came from the north gate. The sound and the shaking of the ground. It reminded him of the ambush a week ago.
"Everyone back to the compound," shouted the old man.
"You heard him fall back!" shouted a man in yellow.
The command echoed across to other barricades and soldiers began to run back to the gate. One of the yellow coats threw a lantern at the barricade setting it alight. Men rushed inside the iron gate. Maxum stood outside urging men to move calmly and counting his boys as they got back. Gunfire and shouting from the other side of the compound was proof enough to him not all his boys would be getting back. The men with bight marks started to run and limp up. Men shouted from the banks stone walls encouragements for the survivors. Muskets fired into the surrounding street. The last living man made it to the gate. He was followed closely by the wall of walking corpses.
Once the young man limped inside the old man got inside and closed the gate behind him. the dead folk pushed into the iron gate crushing themselves. The men where fighting hard to keep the dead folks form coming over the walls. Even the men missing mouthfuls of arm and leg muscle.