A Young Man's Choking Evil 1 (Patreon)

A Young Man’s Choking Evil

Chapter 1

-VB-

1923.09.13

Rhine Front

Louis got off of the truck with his rifle and pack.

“9th Infantry Company over here!” one of the officers of the said regiment called out. “Line up, line up! I want this inspection done within the hour!”

He hurried over to stand in formation with the rest of his squad and quickly stood at attention once they found their place. As their officer - a lieutenant? - went up and down the rows and columns inspecting them all, Louis let his eyes roam whenever he could.

The front … was a desolate place.

If he was right, then this place should be the Rhineland which was supposedly a rich farmland region. Yet all Louis saw a muddy and barren wasteland of rolling hills. There were a few trees clinging to life with roots branching out like clawing hands and branches cut and pruned in a haphazard manner with most of the exterior barks burnt black.

Why was the Francois Republic fighting for this barren land again?

Well, he knew that the nobility-loving Imperials were sure to attack them after they finished off Norden, who was lawfully patrolling their own territory… so this was a defensive war to prevent the Imperials from expanding?

It made sense. If your neighbor was an asshole who beat up your other neighbors, then everyone had to get together and beat them up.

Besides, the news said that the war was going great! In fact, it was going so great that the frontline was expanding too quickly to be covered by the regular troops, which was why they needed more troops in the frontline.

Louis had volunteered to help his comrades… but something was wrong.

The soldiers here.

Their eyes.

Even from where he stood slightly apart from them, he could see their blank eyes staring tiredly out into space-.

BAM!

He flinched and looked to his left as did many of his company. He looked on in horror as he saw a man fall over with a hole blown into the side of his temple.

“Shit, another one!” someone hissed and hurried over to the dead man.

Suicide?

But -?

But why?

It wasn’t until later that his company had been assigned to their tents and they were eating their first dinner they got the truth from a soldier from another company, one that had been on the frontlines for a very long time.

A scruffy looking soldier came over and sat down with his rifle slung over his shoulder by the strap. With the suicide earlier today, most of Louis’s squad was still uneasy. The soldier looked them over once as they slowed down with their eating in anticipation of something to come.

“So. Fresh meat.”

Louis didn’t say anything.

“Welcome to the Rhine Front,” he said with a sardonic smile. “First thing you have to know is that there is no sleeping.”

… What?

“Some of you probably noticed that all of us veterans here have bags underneath our eyes. That’s because the imperials love to attack in the night in the worst way possible.”

“What is it?” Louis ended up asking. “It has to be mages, right?”

“No,” the soldier sighed. “I mean, yes, a mage has to be the one that’s causing the issue, but it’s not a mage persay that will keep you up at night.”

“Then? Spit it out already!” one of the rowdier soldiers of Louis’s company demanded.

“Well, the dead rises back up, and if you ever see a hooded man with a staff, then run. Forget about the republic and just run.”

What?!

-VB-

He didn’t understand. Louis thought that the man was joking.

Tonight was his first night shift, and he certainly still thought that way. However, the way the soldiers held onto their weapons, especially their shovels, and warned all new recruits to do so as well seemed to lend truth to what that soldier had said; there was no sleep in their eyes and everyone expected someone to attack.

So Louis did his best to look at the sky or the horizon to see any approaching attackers.

He saw nothing.

He squinted and still saw nothing.

Were they playing a prank on everyone? He did hear that good humor was necessary for being a soldier on the frontline.

The sun set…

And a bone-shaking shriek rang out.

One of the veterans broke. He’d been trembling next to one of the ladders of the trenches. He abruptly stood and panicked, swinging his shovel side to side and making others back away from him.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK GET ME OUT GET ME-!”

And then dirt below burst upward.

Louis watched in confused terror as a skeletal hand grabbed the panicking veteran by the ankle… and pulled him under.

The veteran’s scream lasted for one a second more before he was swallowed up.

Louis stared at the spot.

What?

How?

Was he sleeping on the job and this was a fucked-up dream?

“Wha-?” he tried to speak up, only for the other veterans of the front to scream out their warnings.

“Necromancer is here! Get up! Get up!”

Necromancer…?

And then he saw it. Something moved in the periphery of his vision.

He whirled around and saw people walking toward his trench from the imperial side. But their walk was weird. It was slow. Shambling.

And their eyes.

They glowed red.

Louis gasped when he felt someone shake him.

“Don’t look at their eyes!” someone yelled. “Grab your shovel, private! Guns don’t work on them unless you’re a crackshot who can hit headshots all night long!”

All night long?

Louis grabbed a shovel next to him and paused as he realized that he was trembling.

Oh.

He was scared.

His entire body was trembling, almost shivering in its intensity, and he felt cold sweat running down his face, neck, and back.

This wasn’t what he signed up to fight!

He winced when that godawful shriek rang out again, and now saw that it was coming from the … shambling dead.

The dead were walking toward them.

He gulped, standing side by side with his fellow Francois as the living dead reached their trenches and fell into them. He yelled and struck-.

And watched in horror as more living dead rose up from the ground, leaving behind a hole-.

They dug a tunnel!

The dead began pouring out.

Louis struck one dead in the head, another in the chest, and parried a grabbing hand.

He stumbled … and one of his comrades pulled him away from the living deads’ grabbing hands.

“Get up! You’ll die if you fall!”

He quickly got up and looked around.

All along the zig-zag trench lines, he saw the dead swarming over the edge.

“Why aren’t there any mages?!” he demanded angrily.

“Because the imperials use their signature as a target!” the soldier who saved him shouted back as he hacked off a dead’s arm with a downward strike. “Mages can’t so much as fly before the goddamn imperials rain down artillery shells on us!”

…

Oh.

This was hell.

Louis screamed as he swung his shovel, but the dead in front of him, a petite woman by the looks of her clothes and not her rotting face, grabbed the handle.

He tried to pull away but he couldn’t. He let the shovel go among the tide of monsters and pulled out his knife.

And then he saw it. Just as he was about to fall back with his comrade, he saw a hooded man with a gnarly staff walking into the trenches.

“... if you ever see a hooded man with a staff, then run. Forget about the republic and just run.”

A terrible shiver ran up his body.

The man paused and looked toward him.

He had the same glowing red eyes all of the dead.

Louis… dropped the knife and ran.

He ran and ran and ran.

For among the dead and the dying in the Rhineland trenches, he saw the Necromancer.