The Legacy of Erich Zann And Other Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos (2012)
“I recognized him by his gait—not that all dead men limp, of course, but I recognized that particular limp, even at a distance of a hundred yards, and I knew that the man it afflicted was dead. Indeed, he had become one of the most famous dead men in England, the very model of heroic self-sacrifice, preserved from better times.
Another reputation blown apart, I thought. It seems that the war isn’t going to leave us any intact illusions—although it does make a change to see someone coming back from the dead, when so many hundreds of thousands like him have gone the other way, with equal futility.
Only then did I think that I might be mistaken, and that it might not be Oates after all.
I looked around—not that there could be any reassurance of the world’s normality in the sight of the wolds, the farms in the valleys with their neatly-cropped post-harvest fields, the ragged sheep on the slopes, the fleecy cloud obscuring the summits, or even the house itself.
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