As the large figure leaned back to prepare its attack, it paused. Bill waited for the blow, but watched as the lumbering zombie simply toppled over onto its back. Its arms and legs flailed about in the air, though it couldn’t seem to stand itself up. The remaining undead in the room wandered up to the fallen one and shifted about restlessly.

Bill felt something tugging at him and he quickly turned to see Mim standing nearby, pulling on his cloak. Bill carefully stepped away from his spot against the wall and followed Mim. The other zombies didn’t pay him any attention due to the noise the fallen soldier made. Mim led Bill through a door at the back of the cellar, bringing them into a long, narrow passageway leading down. She took one last look back and closed the door behind them.

“I think its sword was too heavy,” Bill said. The air was humid and stale and the passageway was lit by a few hanging oil lanterns burning very low.

“No,” Mim said. She took a few cautious steps forward. “I cut it.”

“Cut it? Where? I didn’t think zombies cared about cuts,” Bill said.

Mim bent her leg back, raising her heel to waist level, then pointed at the back of her ankle.

“Oh,” Bill said. “So they still need muscles to move.”

“Muscles and brains,” Mim said. They reached a large wooden door and Mim knelt down and pressed her ear against it.

“He’s there,” she said, standing. “You first,” she added, walking past Bill.

“Me first? Even after I messed up on-” Bill started to say, but as he turned he noticed that Mim was gone.