I can’t die.

  Three words dominated Ana’s thoughts as she met the crazies between her and the safety of the walls. She refused to clarify to herself whether that meant that she couldn’t be killed, or that she wasn’t allowed to. It wasn’t going to happen, either way.

  It felt obscene, in many ways, that she was still fighting. To any sane observer, the odds were so stacked against her that she might as well lay down and give up. But despite the pain, the fear, and the fatigue, all of which she knew were there, partitioned off from her conscious mind by a wall the thickness of a soap bubble, she was going to win.

  The alternative was unacceptable. She had a whole life to live, with a chance at some real contentment. Happiness, even. She had Messy waiting for her, to hold her and stroke her hair and sing her to the best sleep imaginable. She had other friends who genuinely respected her and enjoyed her company. And she had a whole damn community of people who’d pinned their hopes on her. Many of them were watching from the walls, as she approached a horde of insane, murderous lunatics, while hundreds more descended on her from behind. Victims of some cult that was ripping them from their lives on Earth, just like they’d done to Ana, for the purpose of destroying this place. Poor bastards who had to die, because it was her or them.

  It was her or them, and Ana couldn’t die. It was as simple as that.

  But she might as well tip the scales ever so slightly in her favor, just in case. She had a few Advancement Points that she hadn’t spent. She hadn’t been sure what she wanted to do with them. Now anything would be better than saving them, but she figured the one thing that would help her more than anything against a horde was Acuity. She expected to be surrounded at all times for the next minute or two, and she needed to be able to keep track of them.

  The wave crashed against her almost as soon as time resumed. All she could do was to stand and fight, to keep on her feet and move closer to the wall whenever there was an opening. Her high Agility was useless. There was something terribly wrong with her left hip. Something moved in there that really shouldn’t, and she had to be careful not to fall over, never mind doing anything fancy. But compared to the revenant she’d just killed, and compared to herself, the crazies were all so slow. They were all so weak. And they died so very, very easily.

  Ana sidestepped the first crazy that threw herself at her, her axe coming down on the nape of the woman’s neck as she passed. She smashed the next aside with her buckler, deflecting the man enough that she could get out of the way and slip past, using the same movement to cave in another man’s temple with her elbow. Then she was among them, so tightly surrounded that she had to move her grip on the hammer-axe to shorten its swing.

  As her weapon blurred, sending blood, and brains splattering, her shield struck again and again, more an overgrown knuckleduster than a defensive tool. Ana forced herself not to count. The crazies were dying so quickly that she had to keep moving forward or risk getting stuck behind the corpses, and she forced herself not to think about the fact that none of the people she killed so effortlessly deserved it.

  Surrounded and with a bum leg there was no way to fight defensively, so she just had to kill them faster than they could wear her down. That meant taking a few hits. She used what little magic she’d learned, managing to cover her arms and neck most of the time, but she couldn’t cover enough. The first time she got scratched, she gritted her teeth. The first time she got bitten, a chill went up her spine. After that she stopped paying attention. Consequences were for once she got back into the outpost.

  A notification announced itself, and another, and another. As the bodies stacked up, so did her rewards. She had some Skill Levels to look forward to once she had half a second to spare. Possibly some Achievements, too.

  She couldn’t see anything outside of the crush of bloodthirsty bodies around her. She was too short, and she couldn’t jump well with her busted hip, so her world was reduced to a four foot circle of death. She kept striking, and pushing, and forbade herself from thinking about how close the second wave was. All she had to do was get past these bastards, cross the last few hundred feet, and then she’d be able to think more than a second in the future; to focus on anything outside of arm's reach.

  She stumbled on a body. As she was recovering, someone smashed into her from behind, and she went to one knee. Her weapon never stopped moving. Teeth latched on high on the side of her neck, and came loose after one, two, three rapid punches with her buckler. As she was getting up she was tackled from the right. Her injured left hip gave out, and she went down, pressed into the blood and filth covering the grass with a snarling body on top of her.

  She screamed. The frustration of not being able to move got the better of her, and it had to go somewhere. She shoved off with every limb that would respond, but the bodies kept piling on. She felt teeth sink into her ear, and abandoned her buckler to draw a dagger that she stabbed into something next to her head, over and over until the tearing stopped.

  She couldn’t swing her hammer-axe. She couldn’t use her shield. The press of bodies on top of her was too much, and she couldn’t shove them off. She could wriggle, and stab, but she couldn’t go anywhere. She couldn’t breathe! For all her Strength, the bodies on top of her were just too heavy. The stabbing only killed; it didn’t get anything off her. She was being crushed, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it!

  Time became fuzzy. She found herself curled up on herself, elbows planted in the dirt, slowly being pressed down as she struggled to take a few more breaths of the stale air surrounding her. Nothing was biting her anymore, which was a small mercy — The crazies on top of her must have died in the press, shielding her from their fellows. She could still hear the snarling above as they tried to get to her, but it wouldn’t make any difference. She was going to suffocate there, pressed into the gore and mud, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Darkness crept in.

  Something changed in the quality of the noise. There wasn’t just snarling and thudding feet and the sounds of flesh on flesh anymore; the voices became more varied, adding in screams and yells and roars of anger and outrage. There was the tearing sound that she associated with one of Deni’s plasma bolts, or whatever the devastating fire-and-lightning spells were, and the sounds of steel cleaving meat.

  With the part of her mind that wasn’t occupied with clawing for the next desperate breath, she realized that her Party was close. Messy was close, and she was in danger. Then they were close enough that she could feel bites and scratches appear on her own body as she absorbed them.

  The range on Guardian Angel was only eleven feet. Her Party was only eleven feet away.

  The air Ana could force into her lungs was stale, but it didn’t need to nourish her to let her scream. There were no words, just a howl, as long and loud as she could make it to let her Party, or anyone, know that she was there and alive. And then the weight on her back decreased. The pile of meat on top of her shifted and moved, and a trickle of cool air hit her, laden with the stench of blood and shit. It was the sweetest thing she’d ever breathed.

  Something gripped the neckguard of her armor, and with a powerful, painful jerk she was free of the press of bodies. A voice shouted, “I’ve got her! I’ve got her! Let’s go!” and she was jerked off the ground and thrown bodily into someone’s arms. She didn’t care who it was. She couldn’t see, one eye full of blood and the other of mud, but it didn’t matter. She was too busy sucking down deep lungfuls of air, trying not to hyperventilate from the sheer joy of breathing as she was jostled along, arms around the neck of whoever it was that was carrying her.

  “Run! Fucking run!” That was Tellak. Ana’s brain had enough oxygen to recognize the voice. “Same plan as last time, people! Hold the gate until everyone’s in! Waller, if you drop her—”

  “I won’t fucking drop her!” Waller shouted, from right beside Ana’s ear. She could feel the bass of it directly from his chest to hers. How the hell did they get Waller to join them? she wondered, but it didn’t matter. Whatever animosity there was between them, he was there, and he was carrying her back to safety.

  Ugh. She was going to have to thank Waller, for appearances if nothing else.

  As Waller carried her through the gate, she could hear feral howls behind her, mixed with screams and the sound of battle. Then the gate slammed shut, and those noises were replaced by groans, heavy breathing, and relieved laughter.

  A voice kept repeating, “We made it! We all made it!” incredulously between big gulps of air. Deni, maybe? Ana wanted to say something reassuring, something worthy of a leader, but then all her bonuses decided that she wasn’t in combat anymore and abandoned her.

  Fear. Exhaustion. Pain. Together with her Attribute bonuses disappearing, they were paralyzing. Her left hip was a white-hot ball of agony that reflected from her teeth to the tips of her toes, intense enough to paralyze her breathing. If she could think at that moment she might have been grateful, since that paralysis was the only thing keeping her from breaking down into a blubbering mess, right there in Waller’s arms. As it was, she distantly heard the man’s voice going from tired to worried to frantic as he shouted, “She’s not breathing! What do I do? She’s not fucking breathing!”

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  Things became hazy. She could feel herself slipping in and out of consciousness. She’d hear snatches of conversation, or heated arguments, and she’d move from place to place, losing time in every transition. But something, probably her high Acuity, kept her from becoming completely disoriented, so despite the confusing mess of what her senses told her, she at least understood what was happening — she was being taken care of. And at no point was she truly worried. One of the first things she’d heard after her first blackout was Messy, whispering in her ear, “You’re going to be fine, Angel. You’re hurt pretty bad, but you’re going to be fine. Just hold on for me, all right? Just a little longer. You’re going to be fine.”

  That was, of course, exactly what you’d tell someone who was already dead but didn’t know it yet. But while Messy was a sobbing wreck as she whispered in Ana’s ear, hers weren’t tears of despair. They weren’t the tears of someone desperately trying to comfort the dying. They were good tears. Tears with a smile behind them. Of sympathetic pain, and of seeing someone you loved hurt, but also of immense relief. So Ana didn’t worry. If Messy said that she’d be fine, she would.

  When Ana woke, she was on fire. Her throat was parched, and she was soaked in sweat. She was being cooked alive. She thrashed, throwing off the thick blanket that covered her, but the cool air hitting her soaked clothes wasn’t enough. She fought to get those off, too, cloth tearing in the process, and finally felt some blessed relief as she got her nightshirt off. Looking around groggily she saw that she was back in Touanne’s bedroom, the same place she’d been cared for after she and Touanne were attacked at the start of this whole mess.

  The right side of her neck itched, but when she went to scratch it she felt that it was covered by cloth. Not a wrapped bandage, just soft material held on with some kind of adhesive. To… why? Cover it without putting any pressure, maybe?

  Under the bandage she could feel small, sharp nodules. She pressed gently, and pulled her hand away with a sharp “Tchs!” as they bit into her flesh. That was… bad.

  She didn’t have any other bandages, though, which was probably good. And her hip didn’t hurt anymore. She remembered her hip hurting like a motherfucker before she passed out.

  She started to sit up. She needed to get out of bed, to find someone who could tell her what had happened, and who could drown her in an ice bath.

  Then Messy was by her side. “No, no, Angel,” she whispered, pressing gently on Ana’s shoulders, pushing her back down onto the bed. There were smudged, black streaks on her cheeks where she’d wiped her tears. “You need to rest.”

  Once Ana was lying down the blanket came back on. “Hot,” she croaked in protest. Her throat was parched, and so were her lips. “Thirsty.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Here.”

  Messy helped Ana sit up properly, this time with the blanket covering her. She stuffed a number of pillows behind Ana’s back, then turned away, and Ana heard liquid pouring, though it didn’t quite sound like water. Strange, she thought, how she could tell the difference now.

  “Here,” Messy said, holding out a ceramic cup. When Ana touched it, it was cool to the touch. “Drink this.”

  The liquid in the cup was a clear brownish red, like thin tea, and smelled of sage. When Ana brought it to her lips Messy kept her hands under the cup, like she didn’t trust Ana not to drop it. And once she started drinking, Messy controlled how quickly she could tip it, making sure that she drank the whole thing, but not too quickly.

  Part of Ana wanted to lash out, to tell Messy that she could drink on her own. She wasn’t a child. But the rest of her…

  She’d never really been taken care of before, except by an overworked nurse in some free clinic. Not even by any of her foster parents. As an adult she’d been so fiercely independent that she’d refused any offer of help when she was sick. Now, as Messy put away the cup, then wiped her skin with a cool cloth, Ana found that she liked it.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, as a wave of relief washed through her, cooling her skin from the inside out. She put her fingers against Messy’s cheek, and the elfin woman leaned into the touch. Ana wished that they could stay like that for a while, but she had no idea if there was any time.

  “The others?” she asked, afraid of the answer. “How many hurt?”

  “A dozen. But not bad,” Messy added hurriedly. “Scratches, a few broken bones. No infections. All dealt with already.”

  Ana sighed with relief. “All right. Good. And me? How bad, and how long?”

  Messy leaned in, burying her nose in Ana’s short hair and kissing the shaved skin above her ear. “You’ve been out for more than a full day,” she sighed. “It’s morning now, the day after the day after. As for how bad… you have crystals in your skin, Ana. Around a bite on your neck. But you woke up much faster than Jancia did. Your fever is stronger, and you’re… you’re you, right?”

  Messy swallowed thickly after her voice broke at the end, and Ana put one arm around her, pulling her in. “Yeah, I’m me. At least I think so.”

  “The Waystone. Do you—?”

  “Don’t wanna go there, no. Don’t wanna go anywhere right now.”

  “Good.” Messy’s voice came out as a rattling sigh, and a sniff. “That’s good. For the rest… Your hip bone was broken, and so was the bone above one of your eyes. Lots of cuts and scratches, but none of them have crystals in them. And, ah…”

  “What?”

  “There’s a piece of your ear missing.”

  “What?” Ana still wasn’t sure if she understood the words right.

  “A little piece, from the right ear. But it’s barely noticeable!”

  Ana’s right hand went to her ear, and sure enough, there was a shallow crescent missing from the top. Not much, like Messy said, but still.

  “Dammit,” Ana groaned. “When I got the bastard biting me loose I thought—” she had to pause for a deep breath. “I thought it was because he let go. Not because I helped him tear a piece off.”

  She settled back into the pillows. Getting worked up apparently took it out of her.

  “It makes you look rugged, if that helps,” Messy said. It only sounded a little forced.

  Ana turned her head so their noses were almost touching. “Do you like rugged?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. Guess it’s fine, then.”

  Messy’s forehead gently bumped against Ana’s as Messy leaned in. “Gods beyond, Angel,” she whispered. “I thought I’d lose you.”

  “I can't die, Mess.” Ana brushed the tip of her nose against Messy’s. “I promised.”

  Ana could practically feel the need coming off Messy. It was definitely not the time. Ana wasn’t feeling it at all. She was a little confused, and she felt about as far from sexy as she ever had, hot, cold, and sweaty all at once. Besides that she was in someone else's, her friend’s, bed. But Messy's distress trumped all of that, and if physical comfort was what she needed…

  “Besides,” she whispered, running her fingers through her girlfriend’s braids to the top of her neck, “you came for me, didn’t you? I could feel you. Despite everything, you came for me.”

  Messy’s breath shuddered out of her. “Yeah.”

  Their lips were almost touching when hurried steps on the stairs interrupted them, and a familiar voice called, “Is she awake? Mestendi? Please, I heard voices. Is she awake?”

  Messy jerked back as Touanne whirled into the room and, seeing Ana sitting up, rushed to her side opposite Messy. “Oh, gods, Ana,” Toaunne said. She sniffled, rubbing at her red eyes with the back of her hand. “Gods, I’m so glad that you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  With an apologetic parting look, Ana let her hand trail down Messy’s arm to grasp her hand instead. “Fever,” she said to Touanne. “A little slow. And the… the bite aches. Not bad, but it's there.”

  Touanne's eyes flicked to Ana’s bandaged neck. “Did Messy tell you?”

  “Yeah. How fucked am I?”

  “Not at all, if I have anything to say about it.” Touanne almost growled the words. “Your body is fighting the infection much harder than Jay’s did. The crystals are small, and spreading slowly. There's time. Tellak’s getting a circle ready. We’re going to try the… the ritual. I should have—”

  The Healer sniffled loudly and tried to blink away her tears. “I’m going to do my damn job and start saving lives. If that means risking those poor infected people you brought in, I’ll— I’ll—”

  “No, Touanne,” Ana said, gentle but firm. She could see her friend on the brink of a breakdown, and miserable apprehension rolled off her. “I’ll do it. I won't let you do that to yourself. I’ll do the trials, and if the ritual looks promising, you can use it on me. After that, if it works, you can use it on Jay.”

  And if it didn’t work, if Ana survived a failed ritual, then… well, she’d seen a zombie movie or two in her day. She wouldn’t let herself turn into one of the crazies. If she had to go, she’d do it on her own terms, somewhere she wouldn’t take anyone with her. She wasn’t going to raise that grim possibility with Touanne and Messy, though.

  Some of the misery on Touanne's face melted away as Ana gave her an out, but there was still anxiety there as she said, “But, Ana, can you— I mean, your Connection, is it—?”

  Ana looked at her, confused until she remembered fully what had happened to Jay. Oh, right, she thought. Should probably check that. And those notifications.

  She still had a number of notifications awaiting her attention, messages from the System telling her what a good little killer she’d been. While she’d been fighting she honestly hadn't the time to look at them, but now, safe and with her friends beside her, she found herself hesitating.

  She didn't like who she became out there. She didn't feel any guilt — she’d done what she had to, to protect herself and the people who depended on her. She’d continue doing it, if she could. But she regretted the necessity.

  She'd called herself a killer. She thought that she'd made peace with that. Every notification she was about to read would be a confirmation of the fact. But the more she thought about it, the more she felt that, while it might be objectively true, she didn't have to like it.

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