The Sharp End

The Sharp End - Part Two

Sergeant Moore put one foot against the creature's chest and simultaneously pushed the corpse away while yanking the trench knife free of its skull.

Burke barely noticed. He was staring at his injured hand and the blackish pallor that was moving in a slow trickle beneath his skin in the direction of his wrist.

Somehow he knew that the minute it reached its destination the major veins in his wrist would swiftly carry the infection, for that was what it was, he was sure of it, an infection, directly to his brain and his heart. He had a sudden image of his own corpse rising again, becoming the same kind of shambling ghoul that Perkins was, and the vision was enough to spur him to action.

"Cut it off," he said hoarsely.

Sergeant Moore was trying to get Burke to put his mask back on and not paying attention to Burke's injury. "It'll be all right, Lieutenant," he said, his voice muffled by his own mask.

Burke was not going to be denied.

"My hand!" he shouted, knocking Moore's hands out of the way and brandishing his own in front of the sergeant so he could see the changes already taking place near the wound. "Cut it off before it's too late!"

The sergeant looked at it, turned away, and then looked back a second time as the full import of what he's seen finally registered. Behind the goggles of his mask Burke saw his eyes open wide in horror.

Steadying himself with iron determination, Burke said, "Cut it off, Sergeant. That's an order!"

Moore finally must have understood, for he grabbed Burke's hand, knelt on it with both legs, and pulled Burke's bayonet from his belt.

"Look away," he said.

But Burke couldn't. His gaze was locked on the black line that was now almost to the base of his palm, a few more inches and it was all over...

"I'm sorry," Sergeant Moore said, then he brought the bayonet whistling downward toward Burke's left arm.

Raw instinct caused him to try to pull his hand back at the last moment, but Moore had anticipated that. He was a bigger, heavier man than Burke; the lieutenant's arm wasn't going anywhere.

The bayonet had been designed more as a thrusting implement than a cutting one. It had a blade, and Moore kept his pretty sharp, but it still wasn't strong enough to take Burke's hand off with the first blow.

Nor the second.

Or third.

Moore was crying and Burke was screaming as the big sergeant brought the blade down for the fourth and final time.

Burke watched the remains of his hand leap free of his wrist as if it had a mind of its own and then mercifully all went dark.

*** ***

Burke came to briefly some time later; how long he was unconscious, he didn't know. He could hear men crying and moaning all around him, could smell blood and the stink of internal organs and burned flesh.

A large shape loomed over him and it took his gas–irritated eyes a moment to focus. It was Sergeant Moore.

"You're in the CCS, Lieutenant," Moore told him, referring to the casualty clearing station where injured men were brought for triage. "The doctor's going to look at you soon."

Burke was swimming in the depths of shock and wasn't really sure what the sergeant was talking about. He lifted up his left arm, saw the stump of his wrist wrapped in a bloody bandage, but it all seemed distant, removed somehow, as if it were happening to someone else.

He tried to say something and drifted back into unconsciousness.

*** ***

When he came to a second time, Burke found himself surrounded by a doctor and several nurses. A man in a white lab coat stood off to the side, watching Burke intently as the doctor unwrapped his arm.

Burke still felt removed from it all, but this time there was a slightly euphoric feeling that he recognized despite his injures; someone had given him morphine.

He could hear the doctor and the nurses talking urgently about his injured arm, but Burke ignored them, his attention locked on the figure of the dark–haired man in the lab coat. Something about him was familiar.

Thankfully, he didn't have to think too hard to figure out where he had seen him before, for after a moment the man approached the bed and introduced himself.

"Lieutenant Burke, can you hear me, sir?"

Burke nodded. He noted that animation of the man's face and the fact that he spoke with a slight east European accent that caught Burke's attention. Austrian perhaps? No, that wouldn't make sense...

"My name is Nikola Tesla. You've heard of me, no?"

Again a nod. He was an inventor of some kind, if memory served...

"The doctor tells me he wants to cauterize your arm, put a brass cap on it, but I'd like to offer you a better option. How would you like a mechanical hand to replace the one flesh–and–blood one you've lost, hmmn?"

A mechanical hand?

Burke looked down. The doctor had his wrist completely unwrapped and Burke could see the empty spot where his hand used to be, could see the bloody stump lying there looking so helpless against the white background of the bed sheet.

Why not?

he thought through his drug haze. A mechanical hand was better than no hand at all, wasn't it?

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until the sharp–looking inventor answered him.

"Of course it is, Lieutenant, and I guarantee you will have the best mechanical hand my laboratory can produce. Now just breathe deep and we'll take care of the rest."

As a sharp–smelling cloth was placed over his nose and mouth and a fresh wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, Burke caught sight of the emotion in Tesla's eyes and recognized it for what it was.

The burning light of fanaticism.

He had one last thought – What have I gotten myself into? – and then unconsciousness wrapped him in its soft embrace and carried him gently down into the darkness that awaited him.

 THE END

THE SHARP END is a prequel story to the Great Undead War series, where the adventure of Captain Michael "Madman" Burke and his team of Marauders continue as they fight the zombie enemy in the muddy trenches and above the battlefields of this alternate World War One.

By the Blood of Heroes - book one of the Great Undead War series - is available now at Amazon - http://amzn.com/B00655VJL8

THE SHARP END

Copyright © 2012 by Joseph Nassise

Cover art by Brad Cooper

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.