“Where is he?” Murphy mumbled.

“Right behind you,” Marc said calmly.

Despite the soft voice almost every man turned around with weapons drawn. Marc remained where he was, letting the dull light visually identify him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too quiet…Sir?” Murphy asked.

“My wife actually,” Marc replied in a neutral tone that somehow sold the line.

Between the support beams he saw what appeared to be coal. The deposits here were sparse and of low quality. A grade often used by poorer households to keep from freezing to death in cities. Probably explains why they abandoned this mine.

Nearer to him he heard some men pacing, keeping watch on the main exit. The men themselves were effectively in the dark, but their silhouettes showed up against the flare’s glow. Like cresting over a hill in combat.

All around them there were mounds of bodies. As the advance teams flushed out ghouls they must have run straight here. Ghouls had a distinctive silhouette, did not wear gas masks, or carry flashlights.

One hundred-and-thirteen paces in, he came across the first flare. The bright red light gave the earthen tunnel a hellish glow, which was fitting for a place where ghouls congregated.

Over time it narrowed, until he transitioned into what appeared to be a layer of shale. Marc passed another three flares until the tunnel broke through the ceiling of the mine. The rubble served well as a makeshift ramp, though one always needed to be careful.

The level of precision and craftsmanship for the supports meant this tunnel was built by humans. In the distance there was gunfire but knew the men at the entrance were blissfully unaware. Just how far does this network extend?

When dealing with an old church or an abandoned fortification they often used charges to deny further use of the area. This generally coincided with a raid on the Huns to camouflage their activities. People are going to notice this one.

So, Marc unholstered his pistol and went inside without a flashlight. The men at the entrance were momentarily confused by his lack of gas mask. Easy to forget as one grows accustomed to my presence.

One hundred-and-thirteen paces in, he came across the first flare. The bright red light gave the earthen tunnel a hellish glow, which was fitting for a place where ghouls congregated.

Twenty-three minutes later, more ammunition arrived and word was sent in. This began a managed rotation of men. Three came up from below to resupply while a fresh team relieved them.

Unsurprisingly small arms fire increased in intensity. Now that there was no need to conserve ammunition, Murphy must have ordered a push into new areas of the mine.

This went on for sixty-three minutes until word came down to send for Padre Taylor and for Marc to make his way down. He suspected their proximity to their lines complicated the clearing operation.

At the thirty-three-minute mark a runner exited and requested more ammunition. Those keeping watch on the entrance collected what they could, while another soldier was dispatched to bring in more from their lines.

Gunfire remained sporadic, and so far, Private Lavoie was the only other casualty. The man ended up buried in rubble when part of the tunnel collapsed. Fortunately, his team managed to pull him out of the debris.

Based on the distortions in the sound of gunfire they were clearing out offshoots of the main line. I’m picking up reverberations and echoes.

“Yes, Sir,” Leblanc said.

As the patrol approached, they spotted an officer in the ranks and promptly altered course.

Some officers believed they had to manage every element of a mission. A method that invariably led to burnout.

Other officers believed in delegation and empowering their men. Marc believed in the latter, and that officers should be content to keep to their domains. The caveat was that officers should be there to prop up a tent moments before it collapses.  All because it went to shit.

Either way the patrol had no desire to determine the type of officer he was, or risk drawing the wrath of someone with a huge chip on their shoulder. They probably get more than enough of that with their unit.

It helped to avoid naming the creature they were hunting. While ‘enemy’ was vague, it did not draw unwanted attention. Whereas using terms like ‘ghoul’ and ‘vampire’ bent the ear of any eavesdropper.

The fact they entered a ghoul infested mine certainly explained what was going on. Intelligence claimed the nearby town was known for factories and mining. The latter, especially when abandoned, left little trace of its existence.

“I’m surprised their artillery didn’t create a sinkhole,” Marc said, dismissing the statement as the random thoughts of an officer.

A fresh team of three were sent into the complex. All the while gunfire continued to erupt sporadically, enough to draw the attention of a roving patrol.

Marc came down from his perch and approached the security detail. A sentry nearly panicked, and brought up his weapon with the intent to fire, but Sergeant Leblanc forced them to stand down. That might have ruined a perfectly good uniform.

“Sergeant,” Marc said as he passed by and tipped his service cap.

“Sir,” Leblanc said. “The Warrant reports they found their way into an old mine. The enemy is putting up light resistance.”

That detail was the reason he was concerned. A nest of this size implied that ghouls themselves could adapt. The idea of carrion eaters becoming a credible threat was a sobering thought. We just have—

A runner ran out from the tunnel and passed on a message. Moments later another two came out at a slower pace. One was Corporal Mills, who was helping Private Mackenzie out of the tunnels.

The latter was pale, and his breathing erratic. Marc spotted the tourniquet around his leg and the visible bone through the uniform was a clear sign of a negative encounter with a ghoul.

Infections from ghouls were often fatal, and Marc guessed the leg was lost. Worse if that tourniquet wasn’t applied in time.