The Eyes of the Dead Read Online Free PDF

near the hole. I can shout up if any of our lot come past.”
    “And what if it’s one of their lot?” Wilson asked.
    “Then you won’t hear a thing, will you?”
    Wilson averted his eyes from Brookes, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth, not knowing what to say.
    Brave lad, he thought.
    “Go on, Wilson. Find the Sarge. Go. It’s the right thing to do, that’s what’s important. I’m a goner. We both know that.”
    Brookes gave Wilson a shove with his leg. Wilson got to his feet. Brookes was right in a way. The Sarge was not in good shape. Letting him wander off alone was just asking for trouble. The old man might have already lost his marbles for all he knew. He did not say this to Brookes though. The boy thought the world of the Sarge. All the same, Wilson didn’t relish the idea of going hunting for a madman in the dark. The tunnel yawned before him, a hungry mouth, waiting. He swallowed hard and walked in. He looked back over his shoulder at Brookes.
    Was that a smile the boy was trying to force across his face?
    It was too dark to be sure.
    Brookes watched Wilson disappear. He felt light-headed as another coughing fit shook through him. A gush of blood ran out of his mouth, running down his tunic. The cold was everywhere. Spreading through him. He wanted to lift his hands so that he could rub them together. Blow on them. But his strength was gone. His muscles were heavy and useless. Was a little comfort before death too much to ask?
    It was.
    His tongue lay dead. A piece of raw meat buried in state, in the drying vault of his mouth. All the moisture was gone. Bitter blood coated his taste buds in an oily film. He shivered and shook. His teeth chattered. He shuddered and coughed. A hundred thousand winters were gathering in close, embracing him.
    Brookes sighed once and let his eyes close.
    ******
    “Christ, Wilson. You gave me the fright of my life. What’re you doin’ down here?”
    Wilson had thumped straight into Smithy as he came around a corner. The old man bristled at the sight of him.
    “I came to look for you, Sarge. Me and Brookes thought something’d happened to you.”
    Smithy regarded him without saying a word. There was something wrong with the Sergeant’s eyes, “Yeah, I’ll bet. He’s in no fit state to speak. He told you to come down here after me, did he?”
    “Yes, Sarge,” Wilson bristled himself at the accusation in Smithy’s tone.
    “A likely story. You just ran off, didn’t you? What really happened? A shell explode outside and make you wet yourself?”
    Wilson felt a sharp pain explode in his mid-section before he could answer. Smithy had smacked the butt of his rifle into Wilson’s stomach. Wilson crumpled to his knees. His eyes wide. Teeth grinding against the pain. Sergeant Smith stood over him. Blood was flushing the older man’s face. His teeth were set. His eyes were narrow, “You ran off and left him. You shit, Wilson! You coward! I’ll see you strapped to a gun carriage wheel for a month when we get back. We don’t need your sort out here. We need men with some fuckin’ backbone.”
    The last word was punctuated by a kick to Wilson’s guts.
    The Sarge had caught a full dose of the horrors.
    Smithy hauled Wilson to his feet, “I want to see you get done, Wilson. I want everyone to see just what you are. A man who’d desert his own in the field. Brookes may’ve been scared but he’s a good lad. He’s got some guts in him. You’ve got nothing but fear in you. You’re a coward born and bred, if ever I saw one. I’m going to see you shot for it. Court-martialled, humiliated, shot! Now, move!” Smithy gave Wilson a punch in the spine. Wilson then felt the barrel of the Sergeant’s rifle digging in hard.
    They started back towards the crypt’s entrance.
    ******
    A beam of unclouded moonlight cut down into the crypt, colouring everything an icy blue. Smithy and Wilson stepped out from the tunnel. Brookes’ head was bowed in sleep. Smithy took