Ballistic Coefficient

Pale came bursting out another window of the tavern, her shotgun barking as she sprinted across snow, ice, and bits of broken glass. Each shot was another felled ghoul, though as quickly as she killed them, another took its place.

She let out a grunt as she ran, carefully reloading her weapon. Truthfully, she wasn't too worried about the undead at the tavern – Kayla and Evie could take care of them easily enough. More pressing were the ghouls still attacking people around town, not to mention Vincent himself. The sun had started to rise; she could only assume he'd retreated in order to rest up. Whatever moves he'd made so far, he'd restrained himself from going after the three of them, which was both good and bad – the former because it granted them a slight reprieve, and the latter because it meant he was very much still toying with them and didn't see them as a credible threat.

That could only mean that either he was overestimating his abilities, or he was exactly as powerful as he believed himself to be. And given how easily he had avoided their attacks earlier, not to mention turned several of the town's citizens without making a sound, Pale was inclined to believe the latter more than the former.

A shriek of terror from a nearby house caught her attention just as she finished loading the last shell into her weapon. Pale paused, then looked around, her gaze landing on a nearby house, the door to which had been torn off its hinges. Her eyes narrowed, and she carefully approached, her weapon tucked into her shoulder. After taking a breath to steel herself, Pale pushed inside, leading with her gun.

The moment she turned the corner, she saw a ghoul standing with his back to her. She didn't waste any time; a single shell full of incendiary buckshot ripped through his torso, and the undead fell to the ground, a blood curdling screech erupting from its mouth as it burned. Several other ghouls on the other side of the living room stood up, their jaws and hands glistening with blood, and began to lurch towards her; Pale took each one down with a single shot, then as they burned, pushed further into the house.

It only took a few steps before she realized what had happened – there was a woman's corpse torn in half at the waist under her feet. Pale grimaced at the sight of it, even as she dropped a shell into her weapon's open chamber, hit the bolt release, and fired.

"Sorry I didn't get here faster…" she muttered to the unfortunate woman's mutilated body before turning and marching out of the home.

XXX

It only took a few houses before Pale realized how unsustainable this was. The undead were growing at a rapid pace – for every one she cut down, it seemed like another two or three rose up to replace it. The fighting throughout the city, once having hit a fever pitch, had died down, and now there was little more than the occasional spell being cast every couple of seconds to indicate any signs of life.

And throughout it all, the chorus of undead moans and screeches resounding through the city continued to increase.

It was almost like some kind of psychological torture – the noise ate away at her psyche, even as she dumped shell after shell into hordes of undead. Pale grit her teeth as she ducked into a nearby alley to reload, the whole time, the undead symphony clawed at her mind, even through the ringing in her ears.

She was tempted to flee with Kayla and Evie and simply wipe this city off the map, even if only to make the noise stop, but she knew that wasn't acceptable, at least not with the blizzard still raging around them. They were all stuck here until the snow let up, to say nothing of the fact that Vincent still had to be dealt with, and if what Evie said was true, it was going to take far more to kill him for good than what it had taken to put Sven down.

Pale did a quick ammo check as she finished reloading. Her bandoleer, belt, and side saddle were all empty, but there were still enough shells in her backpack to resupply them all and have a little left over. She did exactly that, replenishing the ammunition she had on-hand at a moment's notice before hefting her weapon and continuing on her way.

As she moved through the streets once more, a new sound graced her ears – men shouting, along with several spells being cast in rapid succession. Her heart skipped a beat, and Pale immediately began to double-time it towards them, uncaring of where her route took her as long as it led to other able-bodied survivors.

She turned a corner and nearly ran right into Knight-Captain Allen. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, bewildered, before Pale angled her weapon around him and fired a single shot. Allen jumped, an angry expression crossing his face, until he realized a moment later what she had done. The burning ghoul behind him fell forward, and Allen scowled before bringing his boot down on its head, crushing it like an overripe watermelon.

"So you're still alive," he said to Pale.

"I am," she confirmed. She peered past him, taking a look at his men. "How many do you have?"

"What's it to you?"

"We're both in this together at this point, Captain. Unless you truly think you can stand alone against the horde, plus the vampire who created them?" Pale shook her head. "I don't like you, and you don't like or trust me. But at least for now, we're stuck together."

Allen grimaced, but nodded nonetheless. "Very well… the guard originally numbered fifty strong, of the toughest, most elite fighters Lord Faron could hire on the entire continent. After the events of today, they're at less than a third of that number, myself included. The dead men fought valiantly, and took their last breaths without fear, but in the end, the horde was simply too much for them."

"I take it by now you've realized what kills them?"

"Fire," he confirmed. "Fire and silver.."

Pale nodded. "How did you figure that out on your own?"

"Let's just say I've stumbled upon some knowledge and intend to put it to good use later." Pale was suspicious of his answer, but didn't pry. Allen leaned down, pointing to her weapon. "What is that thing?"

"It's my weapon of choice."

"I can tell. It seems useful. Do you have more of them?"

Pale shook her head. "No, otherwise I would have handed them out by now."

First contact protocols were strict about uplifting the natives or otherwise providing them with military-grade hardware, but she was sure that given the situation at hand, she'd be able to argue for an exception… not that it mattered; she was planning to completely uplift the natives eventually, anyway. Compared to that, handing out guns and ammunition was a minor sin at most.

Not that it mattered, because what she had told Allen was the truth. She had other guns, sure, but incendiary ammunition wasn't something she was blessed to have an abundance of.

Allen grimaced, then shook his head. "Shame…"

"Indeed. How many of your men are fire mages?"

"Of the fifteen we have left? Nine, myself included. That's why this bunch has been able to live this long – they're fire mages themselves, or they were fortunate enough to stumble onto one and stick with them."

Pale nodded along with his answer. "And your plan? Surely you have a plan for how to deal with this."

Allen's expression darkened. "Right now, my only prerogative is protecting Lord Faron. Anything else is secondary."

Pale glowered at him. "You have to know that isn't sustainable. If you hold here, the undead are going to continue to multiply, and eventually, the vampire himself is going to come for you all. That's assuming you all don't freeze to death in the cold before then. I can see that you're all tired as-is, what are you going to do when the full might of the horde descends upon you? Die protecting your lord, only for him to die as well when the undead inevitably breach the gates?"

"Mind your tongue," Allen warned her.

"You know I'm right. If you continue to simply hold here, it's tantamount to suicide for you, your men, and your lord."

"And I suppose you have a better idea?"

Pale nodded. "We need to push out into the city and clear out as many ghouls as we can before night falls. Dealing with Vincent – that is, the vampire – is going to be difficult enough on its own, but it will be much harder if he can call upon an army of corpses to aid him. If we can deprive him of his army, it will make dealing with him much easier."

Allen grimaced. "I dislike the idea of leaving my lord undefended."

"Then leave some men here," Pale emphasized. "The ones who aren't fire mages and who are otherwise most in need of rest can hold here – it doesn't appear that this spot is being hit too hard yet, anyway. The rest can come with you and I and assist with clearing out the town."

Allen blinked. Slowly and reluctantly, he nodded. "...I dislike admitting it, but you are speaking sense. Very well." He motioned for several of his men to form up on them, then turned and began to brief them.

"Did you lot understand what she just said?"

"Aye, sir!" they all replied.

"Good," Allen told them with a nod. "She seems to know what she's talking about. I don't trust her, but at this point, she's the best chance we've got for surviving this nightmare. Listen to her… but if it looks like she's working with the vampire or otherwise making a move against us, don't hesitate to put her down. Understand?"

"Aye, sir!" they repeated.

Pale scowled at him. "What are you doing?"

"Consider this insurance," Allen snapped. "I'm willing to work with you, but it's going to be on my terms, not yours. Stay out of my way and don't make any aggressive moves towards me, my men, or my lord, and all will be well. The second it looks like you're about to do otherwise, though, your head will roll. Do I make myself clear?"

Pale's scowl deepened, but she nodded nonetheless. "Very well," she said. "Form up on me, then. Let's go clear out this town's rot."