1:20

You’ve already saved Kaliff once. Fair’s fair. You dash to the edge of the roof to see three of the things dragging Luce away. One her has by the hair, one by the arm, one by the leg. She is screaming as they pull her along the ground.

You sight down your shotgun. You realise you’re being stupid. From this range you’re as likely to blow her up as any of them. What are you going to do? Through the house? You’re wasting time. There’s a smear of blood on the road where they’re dragging her. She hasn’t stopped screaming. She can hardly have paused for breath. What are you waiting for?

You hop over the sandbags, take a moment to brace yourself, and then you drop down. Pain flares in your ankle as you land awkwardly, and you crash into the side of the house as you try to keep your balance. It hurts! But you don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself.

One of the three sees you limping towards them and drops Luce’s leg. She manages to score a good kick on it as it dashes towards you, wide open mouth filled with yellowing teeth. You sight. You shoot. You suffer. It stumbles sideways, half of its head missing, until it crashes into the side of a building and slumps down.

You look up and Luce is almost round the corner.

You run as fast as you can, every step sending a new little spear of agony up your leg. You feel so exposed away from the house. So many corners. So many blindspots. Every step takes you further away from safety. Deeper into enemy territory.