Death After Death

Sometime in the middle of the night, Simon was awoken. Not by the sound of zombies overrunning the place like he’d expected, though, but by Freya crawling into bed with him.

“I had a nightmare,” she whispered. “Do you think that I could… maybe…”

“Sure, fine,” Simon answered, yawning. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He scooted over as much as he could on the narrow twin bed, and Freya crawled under the two raggedy quilts he was sleeping under along with a burst of cold air. There was no way he could not touch her, but Simon rolled over to avoid any misunderstandings, and promptly fell back asleep.

He was somewhat surprised when he woke up later in the night and found her clinging to him while she slept like a drowning victim. It was both adorable and creepy, and Simon lay awake for almost an hour appreciating it. It had been a long time since he’d hugged anyone but his parents, and he hadn’t been in a bed with a girl this pretty since his freshman year in college. He’d forgotten how soft and warm they could be, as well as how good they could smell.

Simon fell asleep again sometime before dawn, and when he woke up, she was gone. That realization made him bolt upright protectively, but as soon as he smelled the familiar scents of breakfast, he calmed down.

“Everything is fine,” he told himself. “Helades probably just hasn’t found the time to fuck you over yet.” It was funny, he reflected as he got dressed and came downstairs. He’d had one tiny little taste of normalcy and a brief human connection, and suddenly he was worried it was all going to get jerked away from him.

Breakfast was fried potatoes and sausages. “I’m sorry that we’re out of eggs,” Freya apologized. “We ran out of those a few days ago.” That statement sparked a conversation that lasted longer than breakfast. She’d been trapped in here longer than he’d thought. Over a week now, and though there had been ten people here at first, as of a few days ago she was the only one left. It sounded like there was a lot to that story, but Simon didn’t want to pry.

After breakfast, Simon busied himself methodically searching the inn from top to bottom as he opened every door and cupboard one at a time. This led to some strange looks from Freya, though Simon ignored them until she finally asked, “What is it you are doing?” Freya demanded. “If you need something, I can show you where—”

“I’m looking for a way out to the next floor.” he said simply, not bothering to stop what he was doing.

“Way out? Next floor?” She asked again. “There is no way out. We’re trapped here until the king raises an army to slay the dead.”

“No,” he said dismissively. “Not a way out of the building. That would be suicide. I’m looking for a way out of this level and on to the next one. You could come with me if you want.”

“Level? You’re scaring me, Simon. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered. That’s what finally made him close the closet that held extra stools under the stairs and look at her. She hadn’t picked the knife back up yet, but the look in her eyes showed him that she wanted to.

That cold, confused look suddenly made him feel very small. There was no way an NPC could understand what he was talking about. Not that Freya was an NPC exactly, but the parallel was still a good one. There was no way she would understand. Not until he found what he was looking for, and he showed her.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to play it off. “I just wanted to see if maybe there were any old crawl spaces or gaps between the levels, we might be able to use to get to the neighboring buildings to try to get more supplies.”

She nodded at that explanation, claiming she believed him, but despite that, she still looked at him strangely for hours.

That night at bedtime, she didn’t even try to get into her own bed. She just looked at him expectantly until he reluctantly nodded and said, “alright, come on.”

She still gave him a look as she crawled into bed and said, “Thank you… but that doesn't mean we’re doing anything besides sharing a little warmth. You keep your hands to yourself, or you’ll regret it.”

Simon nodded. He knew the drill, but this time their cuddling was intentional, and he fell asleep with the smell of her hair, and the feeling of her body pressed against him as they spooned together while she started snoring softly next to him. It was a moment that was so perfect that it brought tears to his eyes as he reflected on how alone he’d felt for so long. Not just all the time he’d been in The Pit, either, but before that too. The games had filled the hole that the missing people had left in his life, at least he thought they had. He obviously hadn’t been entirely right about that, but he hadn’t known that until he held a beautiful woman like Freya in his arms.

Simon spent the next few days looking for a way out, but increasingly he was coming to the conclusion that it had to be in one of the nearby buildings. This zombie level would have been much too easy otherwise, he decided. Even if that made perfect sense for the goddess, though, he wasn’t really interested in looking. Increasingly the best part of his day was waking up next to his barmaid and listening to her tell him stories about her strange world, and considering that even if he found the way to the next level, the only reward that awaited him was some new awful way to die, he was in no hurry to find it. Not when they still had plenty of food to eat and beer to drink.

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On the fifth night they got well and truly drunk the first time to celebrate the fact that they were out of bread. It started off with Simon trying to explain to her that beer was originally known by the ancient Sumerians as liquid bread, and it quickly went out of control from there.

“You're funny,” Freya said, leaning uncomfortably close to him after he went off on another rant about places she’d never heard of. Simon found that distracting, but not as distracting as when they started kissing.

Simon hadn’t kissed a girl like this in years, and between the way she tasted, and the way she smiled at him, he would have been sure that he was in love from that first moment, if he believed in stupid things like that.

“What was that for,” he asked dumbly when the moment was over.

“Well, you’re the hero, right?” She asked sweetly. “That’s what the hero is supposed to get in all the stories, anyway.”

Simon's mind was racing as he tried to process all the unfamiliar emotions that were racing through his mind, and sat there like a deer in the headlights. A note of disappointment crept into Freya’s voice at that response. “Why didn’t you like—”

He was quick to stop her from finishing that thought, at least, and kissed her back as hard as she’d kissed him. After that, the rest of the night became a blur as they stumbled back to their dark room and their small bed. This time, at least they didn’t go to bed fully clothed, but they didn’t have sex either. Simon knew it would be wrong to take advantage of Freya while she was intoxicated, as much as he might want to.

He feared that in the morning things might be weird, but she seemed as upbeat as ever. When he tried to bring up later that day once his hangover had cleared up, she dodged the question. “A girl’s gotta do whatever she has to, to keep you from talking about bread all night, doesn’t she?”

Simon laughed at that, only mildly offended. She was probably right. He could get a bit lost in all of his useless trivia once he’d had a beer or two. Still, taking a little verbal abuse was worth getting to see her breasts last night, he decided, and he was happy to let her tease him the rest of the day while he followed her around like a puppy.

After a couple of days, it practically became their routine. Sleep in late, relax during the day while they tried to ignore the fact that death was constantly waiting for them just on the other side of every door, and then get drunk and make out for a few hours. Simon couldn't quite bring himself to go all the way, because he felt like he didn’t know her well enough for that, but that was fine. He was perfectly happy with the way things had blossomed between them, and didn’t want it to ever end. All he knew was that when he left this place for the next level, he was going to take Freya with him. This was just the start of his party. It was one more advantage he was going to have over everyone else that had gone before him.

Simon didn’t even have a weapon on him as he heard the back door give way. They were just sitting in the common room while they waited for the last of the sausages to boil. Simon should have thought that was a problem, but they were running low on firewood, so he didn’t really care. Like he’d been doing all week, he was just enjoying Freya’s company, falling for her a little more, when the sound of splintering wood ended the moment of peace. Thinking fast, he grabbed Freya by the wrist and yanked her to her feet, as he ran towards the stairs.

Simon had checked the windows earlier, but he’d never thought that they might be able to bust down the backdoor itself. That was actually a real problem because it was closer to the stairwell than they were at the moment. It was only when they got to the hallway, Simon could see that they were too late. There was no way he was getting past the half a dozen zombies that had already gotten inside without his armor and his mace.

“This way,” he said, reluctantly retreating towards the door that led to the basement. In the long run, it was a terrible position to be in. There would be no way out, but in the short run it was the sturdiest door that Simon could put between the two of them and certain death.

“How did they get in?” Freya asked, still trying to process what was happening.

“The back door gave way,” Simon said, making sure that the basement door shut behind him. That made it close to pitch black in here without a lantern. The only light came in through the cracks between the floorboards, but that was still better than the alternative. At least that’s what Simon thought at first. Once the dead started to fill up the tavern en masse, it blotted out most of their remaining light. The darkness wasn't even the worst part though. The noises that the zombies made as they milled about, and the creeks that the floor gave in protest as more and more came inside, were both equally terrifying.

“Are we going to die now?” Freya whined, overwhelmed by fear and sadness, not that Simon could blame her.

“Why would we die?” he asked rhetorically. “They can’t get us down here, and while there isn't much food down here, there’s plenty of beer. We can live for weeks off that, until someone rescues us.”

It was all technically true, but he considered it pretty unlikely. That just wasn’t the way that zombie movies ended. Pretty much every zombie movie he’d ever seen ended with everyone dying. Sometimes a couple would escape while the rest of the group perished, but he had neither a helicopter nor a boat to get them to safety. He didn’t even have a horse or a window to climb out of. All he had was a beautiful woman to protect.

Which was one more thing than he usually had, he thought, hopefully. No, Simon was sure he could figure a way out of this… at least until he started to smell smoke.

At first, he hoped it was in his imagination, but when Freya added, “Something’s on fire,” he knew they were in trouble. Looking towards the kitchen, he could see immediately what had happened. One of the zombies milling around the kitchen had knocked over the meat they were cooking and scattered hot coals across the floor.

Simon felt around for a keg that was actually tapped, and then took off his shirt and wet it. “Put this over your mouth.” he said. “It will keep the smoke out.” With any luck, the cook fire would just smolder for a little bit, and then go out on its own.

Luck wasn’t with them, though, and minutes later the cellar was filling with smoke. The damp cloth was helping some, but not enough, and they were both coughing almost constantly now. At least they were until Freya passed out from smoke inhalation. “I’m so sorry, Freya,” Simon whispered as he cradled her unconscious body in his arms. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Passing out from carbon monoxide poisoning was definitely less painful than most of the ways he’d died so far, but even if his life wasn’t precious, hers was, watching it slip away one slow heartbeat at a time was worse than anything that had happened to him so far.