Maria cried and felt sick as she pawed through the dozens of photographs that had been stored inside the old crates for decades. There were pictures of concentration and prison camp survivors. Most showed people emaciated to the point of being little more than skeletons with skin stretched over their bodies. She cried while pulling out the photos and tried not to look at some of the most horrific parts of World War II, hoping as she sifted through them that there might be something useful in the old crate.
As she was about to give up, Maria felt a metal tube and slid aside the remaining photos- revealing four round metal cylinders a few inches long and a little thicker than a can of soup on the bottom of the crate. After a few seconds, she managed to read the letters on one of them. The word was “Stielhandgranate” and all the little cans had a few inches of rough cord hanging out of the bottom that went inside through a tiny hole. Maria wondered at the word that was stenciled on the little canisters. Are they food, medicine, or maybe some kind of weapons?
After pulling all the cans out and setting them on the floor, she was prepared to look through another box but noticed something. There was a piece of yellowed paper rolled up and tied to one of the cords. Carefully unrolling the brittle yellowed paper she read the note.
Dear, Skunk Butt, Remlap,
Thought you might like a few noise makers for New Years or to help knock out any old tree stumps you may have. These are some of the potato masher grenades we found at that whorehouse in Remagen.
I used the rest on General Douglas Steltmiers's Mercedes that he was going to have shipped back to the states. I think the engine block probably landed on the moon. Ha ha!
Anyhoo, have fun and just remember these are five second delay grenades so be careful. And Happy New Years, Stinky
Bama Boy a.k.a. Chet Scarbrough
Maria looked from the note to the canisters as a mischievous smile lit up her face.
There was a metallic crash from below followed by a surprised grunt.
Crawling to the hole she'd climbed through earlier, Maria yelled down until three undead men were visible. They stared and snarled up at her.
“Hey, are you hungry? Want to wrap your lips around something yummy? Well, eat this, you nasty things!” She yelled while pulling the string on one of the grenades. After dropping it to the garage floor she couldn't help giggling while crawling away from the hole as fast as possible.
The undead man that used to be called Paco looked down at the metal thing and picked it up.
The others continued grunting and leaping up trying to get in the crawlspace where they had just seen the delicious smelling girl.
Maria reached the end of the crawlspace, as far away from the hole as possible, and waited. She continued to wait and wondered if she'd read the note right. It's been almost thirty seconds. Maybe they don't work any longer? She thought and reached for another grenade. After pulling the cord she threw it toward the hole.
It had just fallen through when a tremendous explosion shook the attic crawlspace and filled the air with plumes of smoke, dust, and howling screams from below.
Her smile disappeared as the attic crawlspace floor, beneath her, shifted and shook for a several seconds. When it seemed to be holding steady again she crawled for the exit. Maria was almost there when the second grenade exploded. The crawlspace floor tilted violently, crates fell, and she screamed as the garage collapsed in on itself and darkness took her.