A dozen Pillagers were backpedalling down a long street, zombies and spiders lurking towards them. Entering a three way intersection, there was a collective sigh of relief, nothing but an unobscured path from the left. Besides a few dead Pillagers, the group turned and ran with their crossbow unloaded. But one Pillager lagged behind and chopped the heads off his dead comrades, tears forming in his eyes when he briskly lifted and beheaded each one. A deep sniffle escaped his nose before he turned and ran. But when he finally caught up, his compatriots were running the opposite way, the overlapping shadows of baby zombies was the reason. Running down the right turn, the group narrowly avoided the earlier horde, panically hurling their crossbows at them as they ran by. The straggler slammed his iron axe into a zombie, who almost grabbed him. The axe was stuck however, forcing him to abandon it and join his comrades.
The group came upon the mountain of rubble in the street, immediately clambering over it. Two of the Pillagers were unlucky, being caught and dragged down by baby and adult zombies alike. A third almost joined them if not for the straggler grabbing his wrists, allowing the former to stomp and kick the zombies away. Pulling him up, the straggler got him to his feet and they continued running. But after a few turns inside the five storey building, their comrades were nowhere to be found. They only swivelled around for a moment, especially since the horde of zombies were lingering closer every second. Pushing his friend, the two Pillagers saw a table clatter down the hallway in their peripherals. But they immediately stopped upon seeing the stairwell, where they saw their comrades frantically ascending the steps a couple stories below.
The straggler stared at them, stuck between the approaching zombies in both directions. But his friend was looking elsewhere, charging and barging through the closest flat. The straggler stayed however, ensuring his six other comrades made it up, but one didnt make it, who was hooked and bitten by the combined hordes. Forced to leave him behind, the straggler entered and held the door, allowing his fellow Pillagers to dash around the place looking for a way out until someone vaulted the balcony outside and shimmied down to the other below. The straggler cringed his eyes, cowering onto his knees as foul and disfigured hands and arms barged through the mangled door. Hey, his friend called and gestured. Hurgh, hurgh!
When his friend disappeared over the balcony, the straggler dashed. But he panicked, instead leaping over the edge and into the gloomy street below. He didnt have a chance to scream however, not when he struck water. Wait, water?
The zombies dared not to follow, not even the spiders or skeletons, who were too busy loitering around or entering the buildings to find new victims. The straggler quickly realised the sneaky downward current however, immediately paddling around upon seeing the baroque style buildings shrinking away from him. A wide bridge loomed ahead, but there was nothing to grab. A few spiders and Enderman were hanging around, which the helpless Pillager stared at before he was momentarily enveloped in darkness. They did nothing. He heard anger distorted voices and whooshes from the Enderman, nowhere to be found when he broke the surface and looked back.
The river continued to drag him along for God knows how long for hours. Maybe hours. The night persisted, which was all he knew. That was until he heard splashing in the distance. He didnt what or where, not when he was busy swimming to the right, setting himself for a course towards the embankment. His right hand was outstretched for the boats docked around it, but something fleshy flopped and shoved him underwater. He panicked again, only realising it was a zombie corpse when he broke the surface. But when he broke the surface once more, his heart sank. The splashing. Behind him.
Hargh! He yelled when he saw the waterfall on the other side of the arched bridge.
His hands dragged against the grimy polished masonry as he reached for something. Then there was a grip. Grip! His hands stung! But his left hand got something, whilst his right hand grabbed the ledge. Not that he could stand anywhere up top. The water and darkness made it almost impossible to see where he was going or what he was holding. But that object was definitely gritty and jagged, and so was the ledge in his right hand. He mustered the strength to pull himself closer, where he jerked his body upward. Too bad the brick disagreed, slipping out of his left hand sloshing into the river. But his hands grabbed the ledge even tighter.
There was an even louder splash outside, a tarnished humanoid shadow bobbing from the water before washing past him and down the waterfall. The Pillager shuttered his eyes, not wanting to know what happened to the unfortunate soul below. He even turned away, not wanting to see his impending doom.
Hurgh! The straggler cried.
Then he felt something rustle against his legs. It took him a moment to realise that a rope had slosh beside him. There hanging from the middle of the arch, the rope, fastened by something. He hesitated. It cant be. But between his blistered fingers and the waterfall, he mustered the strength to push himself away. Moments later, he emerged, panting heavily when he climbed and flopped over the stone banister, tears leaving his eyes upon resting his cheek against the cobblestone street. He cared naught if someone was waiting for him.
Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not him. Not anymore.
Having witnessed the carnage while chasing the baby zombies away with the Golems, seeing him save his comrade, vault from the balcony, and trying to save his own life, the Pillager had enough.
So the boy decided to let him live and left.
