It was no man, Pierce realized. Nor beast. It was a ghoul-thing and it bore the tattered uniform of the Waffen-SS. As it reached out to grab for him, Pierce shrieked.

The ghoul lunged towards him just as Pierce smashed the lantern against his head. His bare skull erupted in flame, yet the thing paid no heed and grabbed Pierce by the collar. In the midst of their struggle, the ghoul pushed back against Pierce and tore him from his barbed confinement. The sound of tearing skin and the scorching cry of pain filled the tunnel. Pierce fumbled for the gun with both hands. The thing bared its yellow teeth and in a final moment of panic, Pierce found the trigger and fired another shot. The round tore through the thing’s crazed eye and its head exploded from the other side. Then it collapsed.

§

Searing pain mixed with the chilling sensation of warm blood oozing from his back. The thing was dead. Its head still ablaze. Pierce was panting and gulping great quantities of putrid air. He hacked and tore off his jacket and beat the flames down until the tunnel was dark once more. The tunnel now silent, Pierce heard the beginning sounds of battle raging overhead.

A cold wind announced the oncoming storm as it thundered towards Stark. The only sound was the wind funneling around the barracks. Atop the guard tower, a lonely guard stood watch. The temperature dropped rapidly, and snow began to fall heavily. In a matter of moments, Camp Stark was in the midst of a winter storm that raged through the night.