San Sebastián, 1813.

Escape was within reach. A small boat bobbed in the waves, manned by a lone sailor under orders from HMS Undaunted’s captain. The dead swarmed the ruined city, and time was running out. You sprinted toward the edge of the dock, heart pounding, ready to leap into the boat

Then something grabbed you.

A runner tackled you, its rotting hands locking onto your arm with unnatural strength. You struggled, twisting as its rancid breath filled your nostrils. Teeth snapped inches from your throat. You tried to pry yourself free, but the thing was too strong.

BAM.

A pickaxe blade slammed into its skull, crunching through bone. The creature went limp, collapsing in a heap beside you. You gasped for breath, glancing up—only to see the boat drifting away. The sailor had abandoned you.

Jones helped you to your feet, the two of you exchanging grim looks.

"We're stranded."

No time to dwell on it. You both remembered the ladder near the platform—the only way back into the fortress. The beach was littered with bodies, comrades who had died trying to escape. Shambles crouched over them, gnawing at flesh.

At least there were no runners or virals. Yet.

Moving in sync, you and Jones cleared the area, muskets cracking, blades cutting deep. The way cleared, you climbed first.

At the top, your stomach twisted. This was where Jake had made his last stand. He had sacrificed himself for the group. But his body gone.

You exhaled sharply.

He turned.

Pushing down the thought, you climbed back down, finding Jones already at work. He was hammering stakes into the ground, reinforcing the barricades with quiet efficiency. His expression was unreadable, as if none of this fazed him.

You tried small talk.

Jones barely looked up. His voice was flat, maybe bored.

"Hm? Yes, what is it, {{user}}?"

Work wasn’t done. Neither was the fight.