I was always more of a calm one in situations—I was able to think, to move, in the situations I had gotten myself into since arriving at New Jamestown. But now, I was really beginning to panic—my allies were on the other side of town, we were isolated, and both a Crusader and a horde of corrupted were outside of the church. Things had already gone to hell, and we weren't even in the portal yet. I was desperately trying to find an answer to our predicament, but my radio buzzed before I could think of anything.

"Somers…Somers? Are you there? If you are, please respond—"

"Captain Newell? This is—"

I was cut off almost instantly.

"Oh thank Notch!" Newell cried, laughing almost insanely in the radio. He was overjoyed that I was alive. "You're alive…fuck…we're trapped in the watermill, we're surrounded…if there's any alternate way out, we need to know right now!"

I could hear slamming and screaming on the other side. They didn't have much time, I had to think fast.

"Ok…uh…"

"We need to know NOW!" Newell screamed.

"I'm thinking—is there a basement there, anything like that? A hatch, trapdoor?"

"Yeah…there's a cellar, but no door!" he replied.

"Just go into it! Buy yourself some time, there might be sewer access in there!"

The radio shut off momentarily. I furiously scanned the church, looking for a cellar door or an access hatch.

"Wil!" I screamed. He turned to me, whipping his head around. The militiaman was holding the door; fists pounded on it furiously, the corrupted trying to break the door and get inside the church. The large wooden beam across the latch definitely helped hold the door steady.

"Wil, I need you to look for something, a trapdoor in the floor, any cellar or sewer access—"

I tripped and fell before I could finish my sentence. My face hit the stone floor, and I could feel my nose break as I hit it at full momentum. I groaned, rising up and looking back at my foot. A small brass knob stuck out of the otherwise flat floor, coated with a fine layer of dust. Reaching as far as I could, I grasped the knob and pulled up, revealing a huge cellar down below. My radio clicked back on.

"Alright, we're in the cellar—there's a main drain here, I don't—"

"Head into it!" I yelled into the radio. I had access to the main drain as well; it would head straight for the crater at the center of town, where it would break off right beneath the floating portal. The flint and steel as well as the Ender Pearls bounced around in my backpack; the shotgun was slung over my shoulder, replacing the SMG I had dropped in the abandoned house a ways back. I looked around the room for supplies; Wil followed me down the ladder, stepping roughly onto the packed floor.

"Where is this? Is there a way out of here?" he asked, glancing around the room. There were no skeletons here, just dust.

"That way," I said, pointing to the large tunnel leading out of the cellar. There was just a tiny spot of light at the end, at the center of town.

"The main sewer runs through here. It should end up at the portal, where the blast destroyed it," I said. I opened up the double chest in the room, and was greeted with the holy grail of supplies.

Forty potions lay in there, neatly organized and even stacked in some places. There were at least four bottles of antibiotic pills, nearly ten clips of SMG ammo, a bow and a full stack of arrows, three stacks of torches, and a stone sword. My jaw dropped in awe as my eyes moved to the back. Wil saw it too; as the militiaman dropped into the cellar, Wil walked up to me and gazed in awe at the weapon. There sat an untouched M95 sniper rifle, its stainless steel barrel shining even in the low light of the cellar. I picked it up from the chest; it was heavier than the shotgun even, weighing at least ten pounds by my estimate—I wasn't exactly sure. It was a helluva gun; Wil stretched his arms out, as if begging for the weapon. I sure as hell couldn't have held that thing; he took it, throwing the strap over his shoulder and holding it tightly, as one would a child.

"Damn…an M95. Those church guys knew what they were doing," Wil smiled, patting the rifle. I took half of the delicate potions, slipping them into secure places in my pack. Wil took the others, and we divided up the torches, the antibiotics and the SMG ammo, leaving the bow and sword.

"Never thought I'd see potions. Even out here," Wil muttered, stowing away two Potions of Regeneration. They were indeed rare; along with alcohol and methamphetamines and their lot, potions were illegal in all 3S lands—but not in Sania.

"Smuggled to Sania, probably."

"Big business to be done—the Sanians lack some of the ingredients to make them," Wil agreed with me. The cries and the bashing on the door drove us to move; one by one, we headed down the sewer tunnel. My radio buzzed.

"Newell?" I yelled hopefully.

"No, no, this is Jeff—and a badly wounded Tar—we're at the crater hiding—they're swarming over the Crusader, I bet you have about a minute before they start to realize our presence—"

He cut out, and was replaced by Newell.

"Somers! We're almost at the crater! Hurry, if you're still there!"

He cut out too. I felt the pressure rising, felt my blood and adrenaline pumping. Overhead I could hear the pounding of metal on the ground, the screams of the corrupted. They had occupied the Crusader, despite its advanced weaponry. It wouldn't be long before they realized we were here, and go after more edible prey.

"Somers, we're here, where the hell are you!"

"Nat, we're going to head into the crater, we need you to get here!"

I dashed out into the sunlight, feeling the warm air flowing down into the crater. I could do a pull-up into the Nether portal from here; jumping up, I raked the flint and steel across the obsidian, spewing fire everywhere. The fire began to take a new shape, roaring and engulfing the portal. It turned portal as a sudden cold wind extinguished the rest of the fire and swept the crater, drawing the corrupteds' attention to us. The inside became a viscous purple vortex, the noise of a thousand damned souls reverberating inside the crater, the evil of so many hellish monsters escaping into the overworld. I saw three distinct groups leap into the crater; Newell and his masked InSec, Jeff, Tar and another militiaman, and the corrupted, now realizing that we were present. I waited not a moment longer; I pulled myself up into the portal just as Jeff did so, his hunting rifle slipping off his shoulder. As I threw my body up onto the frame, I was sucked into that purple vortex as the world swirled around me and blackness overtook me.