We descended quietly, stepping carefully in the near darkness. We carefully climbed down on the opposite side we had gone up. It was the wrong direction for getting back to the living city, but the first story roof here was intact.

We tensed as we reached the torn up street, but no monster came tearing out of the darkness. I let out a slow breath as we hurried north. We moved at a shuffling jog, as fast as we could go while remaining quiet.

We ran into three zombies after only a few minutes. The route cleared this morning had repopulated over the hours we spent waiting. They were hard to make out in the meager light. I looked to Ajax and he nodded.

He leveled his pistol and I prepared to rush forward. His shot took the lead zombie in the forehead, dropping it instantly. I charged to intercept the other two, but even with the tunnel vision fighting brought, I felt the change in atmosphere.

In the wake of the gunshot, the city went totally quiet. Ambient noises I hadn’t even noticed fell away. The night held its breath. Then the noise came rushing back. The scuffing of dead flesh on stone, the clatter of loose rocks, a thump of a body hitting the ground. It came from all around us and was getting closer.

I cut down one of the zombies in our path and Ajax shot the other. The noises around us grew louder, more urgent. I could see them now, illuminated by the weak starlight. Dozens of zombies, coming out of alleys, buildings, storm drains. All fixated on Ajax.

Apparently the zombies, willing to ignore gunshots during the day, grew more sensitive to noise at night. When they spotted us, they started running. Not a full out sprint, but far faster than they had moved during the day.

We ran. There were far too many to fight, and nothing to say more wouldn’t just keep coming. Even moving carefully to avoid tripping on the uneven ground, we were faster than the zombies.

I took the lead, bullrushing the zombies that got in our way, shoving them to the side or ground. I didn’t bother finishing them off, there was no time. While the number of zombies ahead of us stayed relatively small, the horde behind us steadily grew as more and more joined the chase.

After ten minutes, Ajax began falling behind. Maxing out his perception had left little room for constitution. I didn’t know Sarah’s stat distribution, but she was lean like a long distance runner. She was gasping for breath, but seemed to be holding up.

It was still almost two miles back to Westminster bridge. My mind raced for a solution, but came up empty. I couldn’t see anywhere to hide or climb.

“Fuck this,” Ajax gasped. He slowed to a stop, only a dozen yards from the surging mass of zombies. “Keep going!” He yelled to us before turning and firing into the crowd. The zombies reacted wordlessly, surging forward in a wave.

Before the undead could sweep him up, he broke east down a sidestreet. Desperation lent him a burst of speed, drawing the horde away from us. Not letting his tactics be wasted, Sarah and I continued north.

We broke away from the horde, the zombies fully focused on Ajax’s retreating form. More gunshots echoed through the night. I tried to count spent rounds, but the numbers kept slipping from my exhausted brain.

Sarah gave out after another five minutes of running, tripping on a loose stone and skinning one knee. I pulled her into a ruined building where we collapsed on rotting floorboards. I sucked in ragged breaths, shaking from the adrenaline.

Stupid to sprint like we had. A more measured pace might have taken us all the way back to the bridge. As it was, I was gassed and had a cramp forming in my side. The mildew in the air made me cough, kicking up dust in the moonlight.

I looked past the caved-in wall to where the moon was just cresting the horizon. Almost full, but not quite. At least we would have enough light for the rest of the trip. Sarah had her tome out, writing even as she gasped for breath.

“Is now really the time for that?” I asked, my voice low so not to alert any nearby zombies.

“Better to take notes while it’s fresh in my mind,” she said between breaths. “The longer I wait, the more detail I’ll forget. Increased sound sensitivity, mob behavior, fixation on the gunshots, increased physical and-”

She cut off as a huge claw grabbed her by the head. Long fingers attached to a sinuous arm enveloped her skull. By the time I jumped to my feet, she was already jerked through the window.

I was through the window in a moment, but she was already twenty feet away. She was held aloft, struggling and screaming between two bipedal figures. Not zombies, these were taller, lanky. Their skin was glossy black and didn’t move right. Closer to liquid than solid.

I took all this in as I charged. A third creature stepped out of the darkness to intercept me. Its arm snaked out, far faster and further than should have been possible. The limb cracked like a whip as it struck my shin. I cried out from the impact, but still managed to cut at the arm.

The enchantment activated and cut through the whip arm in one clean stroke. Inky liquid burst from the wound as if highly pressurized. My charge brought me to the first monster and I ran it though.

There was more resistance than I expected, almost driving the shamshir from my hand, but it pierced. More pressurized liquid burst out, spraying my hands and face. It was sticky, like boiled soda.

I drove the creature to the ground, planted a boot on its chest, and wrenched at my sword. The glossy black skin clung to the blade like tar making it a struggle to pull free. The creature struggled weakly, but was rapidly dying, the liquid that sustained it pouring into the dirt.

Sarah screamed. The other two monsters held her by an arm and a leg and were pulling with sharp jerks. Two dogs fighting over a scrap of meat. I tried to run to her, but tripped when my boot stuck to the creature’s corpse.

I cut the laces, the fine blade severing them in an instant, and tore my foot free. Sarah’s scream turned bloodcurdling, accompanied by a wet tearing sound. I regained my feet and charged. The two creatures had separated. One clutching Sarah, the other a large chunk of flesh. A leg.

Blood poured from the stump in fat streams. Her screams got quieter as she started succumbing to shock. I crashed into the monster, forcing it to drop Sarah. My shoulder stuck to the liquid skin. I tried to push off, but couldn't find leverage.

I sliced at it with my shamshir, but the enchantment didn’t go off. Without the magical cutting power, I didn’t pierce the thick skin. I tried to draw back for another strike, but the sword was stuck, tar-like skin all along the edge.

The monster grabbed me by the foot and agony shot from where the whip blow had struck. It lifted me, one handed, it’s freakishly long arms extending well above its head. The shamshir was pulled from my grip, the sucking force of the tar stronger than my grip.

The creature raised me to eye level and cocked its head, as if inspecting its prey. I summoned my force shield, snapping it to my right hand instead of the usual left. Using the edge of the shield, I slammed it into the creature’s face.

The magically constructed object interacted strangely with the monster’s skin. Instead of sticking to the tar, it pushed through it with hardly any resistance. I had hoped to hit it hard enough to break skin in a desperate attempt to force it to drop me.

Instead, the shield cleaved through the tar-like surface and crunched into the structure beneath. Similarly, the shield pulled away with no resistance, the liquid skin sloughing off the translucent material.

I rained down blows on the creatures head, crushing bone and opening splits in the skin. The pressurized liquid spurted like a fountain. The creature dropped me, clutching its ruined face.

I fell straight down, the liquid skin losing all grip in response to the creature’s will. I managed to curl up a bit, so I fell on my back more than my head or neck. Still, it was an eight foot drop at a bad angle. The wind was knocked from my lungs and I wheezed, struggling to breathe.

I managed to roll to my knees, ready for the next attack. The monster with the ruined face was down, hemorrhaging ink-black liquid. The third beast loomed over me, still clutching Sarah’s leg.

It looked at me, back down at its gristly prize, and scampered into the night. It moved far faster than I could catch, even if I was inclined to go after it. Dismissing the fleeing monster, I crawled over to Sarah.

She was dead. A lake of blood pooled from the stump of her leg. I sat back and took stock.

Sarah? Dead. Ajax? Probably dead. Me? Fractured wrist, leg either fractured or badly bruised, a multitude of less severe cuts and bruises. All in all, not great. Would it be better to die? Respawn back at the church. The thought brought back memories of my last death.

Teeth ripping away meat, acid dissolving skin and fatty tissue, primal terror. Just thinking about it, my already ragged breathing sped up. Blood roared in my ears with my heart beating a staccato rhythm. The night air chilled the sweat rolling down my back.

I fought to regain control. No, I wouldn’t be dying again. I was going to get back to the living city alive, even if I had to kill every undead between here and there. I wasn’t going to get fucking eaten again.

I struggled to my feet. My injured leg struggled to take weight, forcing me to limp. I collected my gear, noting how the tar-like skin seemed to pool and melt off the dead monsters. The melting layer revealed a second, grey, skin underneath the gooey black coating. Humanoid, but emaciated and stretched.

My shamshir back in hand, I limped back towards the house Sarah and I had taken shelter in just moments ago. I needed to go northeast for about a mile to get to the bridge. Glancing through the building’s window, I saw Sarah’s tome, still lying open in the moonlight.

Would she get the book back when she respawned? I didn’t get my shield back when I died last. Did proximity matter? I considered putting the book with her corpse. In the end I decided to just take it with me.

I added the tome to my abused backpack. None of the vials had broken, thankfully. It was basically a miracle considering the fall I had taken. Maybe carrying the vials with me everywhere wasn't the best idea.

I limped down the street keeping an eye out for another ambush. My path was surprisingly clear of zombies. Apparently Ajax’s gambit had drawn all the nearby undead. It was a relief, I wasn’t sure how many zombies I would be able to take in my current state. The relief was followed by guilt. Every zombie I didn’t face was another chasing Ajax. I doubted my friend had made it to the bridge.

I slowed as I got closer to my goal. The sounds of fighting echoed down the street. Men yelling and the roar of fire. I found a vantage point on the second floor of a dilapidated building.

Westminster bridge was under siege. Over a hundred zombies crowded the bridge with more coming from the south. The horde was held at bay by a wall of fire. Men on the bridge threw containers of some flammable substance, sending up sheets of flame where they shattered. Archers picked off zombies as they tried to cross the bridge.

Protecting the archers, halberdiers stood on the wall. They cut down any zombies that made it to the far end of the bridge. Though, between the flame and the archers, not many monsters made it that far. The scene was familiar.

I remembered. It was like the game’s prologue. I had seen the bridges being defended during the Night of Jagged Teeth.

I considered waiting the siege out, or trying a different bridge. But I didn’t know what other monsters came out at night. I would rather take a chance with this, hopeless as it seemed, than venture deeper into the dead city. I watched the defense for fifteen minutes, devising a plan.

I crept up to the edge of the fighting. Filthy water dripped off my hair and clothes, forming tiny pools as I waited. The zombies, focused entirely on the bridge, ignored me entirely. I was sure that would change when I ran into the open. My timing had to be perfect.

A gap in the horde gave me what I needed. I sprinted towards the bridge, gritting my teeth against the pain in my leg. The zombies noticed me now. They reached out with grasping hands, but they couldn't match my speed.

I broke through the main force of zombies being held at bay by the wall of flames. Which of course put me directly into the fire. I had timed it so that this section of the fire was almost extinguished, due to be replenished by the human defenders any second.

Still, there was a big difference between almost extinguished and actually extinguished. It was unbearably hot and there was no air to breathe. My skin burned wherever it was uncovered. My clothes smoked despite soaking them in the stagnant water of the Thames.

My boot came off. The laces I had cut earlier betrayed me now sending my boot flying off. The scalding stones of the bridge burned the sole of my foot; the heat going right through the thick sock.

I would have screamed if I could have spared the air. My eyes streamed tears, but I forced them to stay open. Any second now. There.

A jug spinning end over end straight towards me. I dove to get under the container in time. I narrowed my focus and pushed at the jar. The rippling wave of force shoved against the container, giving it just a bit more lift. The jug sailed an extra twenty feet before crashing down among the massed zombies. With a whomp of displaced air, a new pillar of flame shot up burning dozens of zombies.

I scrambled up, ignoring my burning skin. Homestretch now. I ran down the length of the bridge. I had to dodge the dozen or so zombies that had made it through the flame wall. I shoved and cut them down as I passed. It was exhausting, but at this point I was mad with enough pain that I would have trampled them unarmed to get to safety.

I was halfway across the bridge when the arrow struck. It took me below the right collarbone and punched out my back below the shoulder blade. The impact spun me around and I fell to the ground.

I screamed as my weight came down on the arrowhead. The barbed broadhead that kept the arrow from being removed cut into the flesh of my back. I sat up, struggling to breath, sure my right lung wasn’t working.

I reached up to grab the shaft with a sort of surreal dissociation. Where the hell had that come from? My hand found a second set of spikes near the fletching. To prevent through and throughs I remembered. I felt sudden clarity as I remembered Sarah’s description of banish arrows.

I tried to break the arrow shaft, but the pain almost made me pass out. It was too late anyway. Symbols along the shaft began to glow with white and gold light. The light built to a blinding intensity then rushed forward. The symbols flew along the arrow and sunk into my flesh.

I could feel the burning energy rushing through my body. It was more intense, more real, than the actual fire that had burned my skin moments ago. It was electric. Scouring.

The energy filled every cell in my body. My skin glowed. But I didn’t burst into flame.

Instead the pain grew more focused. Gathering at my burned foot, limp leg, fractured wrist, and punctured lung. I groaned with pain as bones shifted, flesh reknit, and new skin grew over burns.

The energy dissipated leaving me fully healed. Fully healed except for the arrow still stuck through me, that is. The flesh had grown around the shaft, planting it even more firmly in place. My lung felt tight with every inhale, but I could breathe.

I got to my feet for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. Zombies, flesh burned and sloughing off, surrounded me. I stuck out with sword and shield, driving them back as I made my way further towards the living end of the bridge.

The zombies acted strangely as we crossed the river. They grew sluggish, less focused. More like the daylight version of zombies we had killed dozens of. More arrows picked off the zombies and I took the distraction to start running again.

I almost made it to the wall the defenders fought from when another arrow slammed into the flagstones just ahead of me. I looked up at the archers, shock waring with anger.

“Back!” A huge man with a halberd shouted.

“You gotta be kidding me. I’m human.” I took a step forward. The man raised his halberd threateningly.

“Let me-” I broke off to attack a zombie that got too close. A slash cleared reaching hands and my shield split the rotting head open.

“Let me in, dammit,” I tried again. “I’m Inquisitor George Silver in service to the Archbishop.” I could hear the desperation in my voice and hated myself for it. The halbardier just stared at me coldly.

I considered jumping into the Thames. The River Rats were proof that some parts of the shore were accessible. I was wearing armor though and my pack. The weight would drag me to the bottom.

I glared up at the defenders. I spat to clear the taste of burning flesh from my mouth and pointed up at the archers. “Fine then! Fine. Just don’t shoot me in the back.”

I don’t know why the banish arrow had healed my wounds instead of burning me alive, but it was a painful enough experience that I didn’t want to risk it again.

I turned back to the trickle of the burned zombies that staggered through the wall of fire. If I could hold out till morning, they had to let me back in. They could bring their alchemist and priests, do whatever tests they needed, but they would let me in.

I stepped away from the wall shamshir and buckler raised.

I fought the zombies as they staggered across the bridge to me. Mostly in ones or twos, but occasionally a group of three or four would make it through the fire at once. I was careful not to overextend. The zombies were slow enough that I could beat them over and over. If they surrounded me though, I didn’t think I would last long.

I fought using the combos implanted when I took Advanced Proficiency: Shamshir. The memories became more ingrained, more mine, as I worked through sequences one after another.

The enchantment on my sword was invaluable, turning even weak cuts into debilitating injuries. Cutting of legs and backing away allowed me to draw the monsters so I could face them one at a time. Severing arms removed the zombies main weapon making them easy to kill. Beheading, naturally, ended the zombies instantly.

When my weapon enchant failed, my chosen skills prevailed. The buff from true time coupled with multi-weapon fighting and my high strength made my shield a deadly weapon. Strikes from the edge could break bones and crack skulls. Straight punches sent zombies staggering back, buying me time.

When my shield started to show wear, I reinforced it with my Create spell. I shaped my force shield to overlay the buckler; translucent magic protecting wood and metal. The force shield didn’t last too long, but I recast it as often as possible.

My push spell I used to get out of rough spots. Times when I made a mistake or misjudged an attack. I would push out with the spell to buy me a few seconds to find my footing or delay a zombie so I could finish off another.

There were breaks in the fighting. Sometimes just a few seconds, sometimes multiple minutes. I used those times to catch my breath. To lower my arms, which felt filled with lead. I had dropped my pack against the base of the wall and a few times there was a long enough pause that I could take out my waterskin and rehydrate. If I tried to lean against the wall, the big guy jabbed at me with his halberd until I moved away.

I don’t know how long I fought, but I ran out of water. During a few down times I forced myself to drag zombie corpses over the side and into the river. I wanted nothing more than to just rest, but I knew that the uneven footing would get me killed.

I was covered in bites, scratches, cuts and bruises. My hands and exposed foot were covered in weeping blisters. Every muscle cramped and ached with fatigue.

The zombies ran out before the night did. I dispatched a zombie by pushing at just the right moment, sending it tumbling down to the water below. I doggedly looked for the next opponent, feeling more than a little like a zombie myself, only to realize that there was no next opponent. The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the carnage.

At some point the defenders had stopped reigniting the fire wall and let it die out. There was no more zombie horde at the far end of the bridge, just a pile of burned corpses. The charred mound was huge, easily ten times the number of zombies I had faced. They had died in droves trying to push through the flames. Now the opposite bank lay empty. Either all the zombies in the area were dead, or they had found other prey to go after.

I double checked to make sure the corpses around me wouldn't be getting back up, then staggered over to the wall. I looked up at the halbardier, one eyebrow raised. Not even sure what response I wanted at this point.

He stared down at me impassively. Prick. My shield crashed to the stones as I forced my hand open. The muscles spasmed, clenching into a fist involuntarily. I had to use my other hand to force the middle finger to extend. Not perfect, but I am sure he got the message.

I sank into the fetal position careful not to jostle the arrow still embedded in my chest. Blood seeped from the arrowhole, reopened by the fighting. I pulled my pack into a hug, rested my head on my splintered shield, and fell asleep.