Dmitri and Hank had been running for the better part of an hour, and Dmitri’s feet were starting to hurt. The newly acquired combat boots were starting to chaff and running through deep snow had been hard on his knees. Despite his tall and well-muscled frame, the light-skinned man wasn’t a long-distance runner. Neither was Hank, but at least the monstrous brute covered in white hair wasn’t bothered by footwear or a mere thirty centimeters of snow.

It didn’t hurt that the wendigo was four head taller than his normal human companion and had the bulk to match. Dmitri could feel his breath freeze solid and hang from his blonde beard and mustache, one he hadn’t had the opportunity to shave in quite some time. Not since the zeke-virus started spreading like an invasion of flies.

Taking a breather, Dmitri looked back to see the horde of corpses that were too stupid to realize they were dead. They had fallen back some and had begun to slow as they slowly froze in the cold weather. Dmitri smiled as he unslung the medieval mace that he had procured from one of Moscow’s museums. He had hoped they would lose them in the blowing snow, especially since Hank’s coat of hair or fur, Dmitri didn’t know which, had turned from brown to white as the temperature changed.

Unfortunately, the natural camouflage and weather didn’t stop their relentless pursuers. Hank had stopped and turned as well, studying the undead creatures with an intelligence that belied his animalistic appearance. With the enemy now at a distinct disadvantage, they waited for the dead to come to them. There was no sense in wasting energy on a mindless foe. The zombies slowly trudged along, often stumbling in the snow. Some of the more emaciated ones simply fell over and didn’t rise again as their thinner bodies slowly froze solid.

As the two companions waited for the relentless pursuit to catch up with them, Dmitri tried to remember how they got to this place. He and Hank had been running with a large group led by Jacoby, a dark-skinned dhampyr who’s human mother had come from India. Jacoby was intelligent and a good leader and had kept them safe for well over a year during the fall of the world. They had a group of about forty or so and had settled themselves in a small hamlet about forty kilometers north of Moscow. The group was mostly regular folk like Dmitri, but they also had help from folks like Hank and Jacoby.

With the world ending, the natural and unnatural order were torn apart and ancient enemies were forced to become close companions in order to survive. Most of the crew were well-equipped and battle-hardened, having survived this apocalypse of undead svo-lach’. They had quickly destroyed all of the undead that they found in the small community. In fact, the undead probably were the small community. Whatever the case, they made the hamlet a home for themselves as it was fairly isolated, and they could handle any stragglers that got caught in the fence they constructed across the only two paths into the valley where the hamlet lay sprawled throughout.

Jacoby had the community split up into jobs and made security a top priority, with sentries always on alert. They quickly learned to work together and had begun to garden and farm, hunt and fish. They had a blacksmith, a tanner, a world-class seamstress, a couple engineers, and several folks with military training.

When the horde came, none of that mattered. They poured over the fence in droves and kept coming. There was no explanation why they had grouped up and headed their way. Maybe it was just bad luck, or maybe someone had pointed them their way. It didn’t really matter. They briefly stood their ground and fought the dead to a standstill for two days, but the dead were relentless, and the defenders began to tire. By the time a third of their numbers had fallen, Jacoby called a retreat.

The retreat went as expected for three days before they ran afoul of another group of undead, and this one had rotted wolves amongst their ranks. Unlike previously human undead, the wolves moved just as fast as they had in life and tore through many of the remaining defenders before they all split and ran. Looking back, Dmitri watched as four wolves attacked Jacoby. The dampyr was quick in dispatching two of the shaggy beasts with the swing of his shashka for each of them, which gave Dmitri a sliver of hope. While Jacoby downed those two, however, the others drug him down from the sides and more dead arrived as he struggled.

When the dead fell upon him in a grotesque pile-up, Dmitri’s hopes evaporated as he knew the dhampyr was gone. With nothing to be done, he decided to run for the hills to the north. Before he turned to run, he saw three other wolves heading in his direction. He ran as fast as he could for a good minute to get some distance between him and the main force. He knew he couldn’t outrun the wolves. Once he felt he had enough distance, he turned to face the trio of deadly wolves.

The first one to arrive received a muzzle full of iron for its first-place finish. Dmitri didn’t have time to ready the mace for the next beast as it crashed into him and knocked him to the ground. He managed to block the creature’s bites by keeping its muzzle at bay with the mace’s handle. Then the third wolf was on him and it was all he could do to kick at it, keeping it at bay for the moment. Just as he began making his peace with his gods, he heard a roar and saw a big foot covered in long brown hair stomp down on the wolf he was kicking.

A sickly crunch was the last sound the flattened creature made. Then the wolf that was basically on top of him was ripped away by a large hairy brown paw and soundly ripped in two by a large beast that must have come down from the hills. The beast quickly shrunk and turned into a man he recognized, Hank. He didn’t know Hank’s last name, but he had been their blacksmith. Dmitri knew Hank wasn’t a normal human, but he had no idea he could turn into such a beast.

"We need to run," said Hank in a hurry as he offered Dmitri his hand.

Dmitri took it and Hank pulled him up to a standing position almost effortlessly. The two men nodded to each other and took off running into the hills.

That had been four days ago, and the relentless horde had chased them ever since. Once they crossed over the hills, the temperature shot down precipitously, and it had begun to snow heavily. It was late winter, and the weather became their greatest ally against the monsters that chased them. They had been running and resting in turns ever since. Now, they finally had the upper hand and they were done running.

When the first zombies arrived, the duo made short work of them. Hank’s claws and Dmitri’s mace were perfect weapons against this type of foe. Hank sliced his claws back and forth, decapitating any zombie that came close. Dmitri brought his mace down on zombie skulls, one after another. He used as little energy as possible, because this was going to be a marathon, not a sprint. There were still over a hundred slowly making their way through the ever-deepening snow towards the pair of warriors. Other than the weather, their biggest advantage was how stupid the zombies were. Both Hank and Dmitri used the same attack pattern over and over. The zombies never tried to adapt. They simply didn’t have the capacity.

At this time, they saw small fast shapes leaping through the snow towards them and recognized them as the remaining wolves. Hank moved closer to Dmitri to protect him and the two quickly dispatched the more dangerous threat that the wolves represented. After each leap of a wolf, Hank would step on it with his massive feet.

Soon, he had flattened a half-dozen of the undead animals while Dmitri had crushed the skulls of three others. Turning their attention back to the human corpses, they resumed their skull cracking and head lopping routine until every zombified svo-lach’ was simply dead rotten meat freezing on the ground. The piles of corpses they left all over the battlefield was impressive and the two men smiled after having avenged their comrades as best they could.

Not wanting to witness the horror that had befallen their hamlet, the pair decided to head west towards warmer and more hospitable climates and hopefully more survivors of the accursed plague of hungry corpses. Dmitri was just glad they didn’t have to run anymore.