Cameron gasped for air as he woke up from his long sleep. Adrenaline was flooding his veins as his body and mind burned out on the starting line, rearing to act on what just happened.
What had just happened? His last memory was being in an armoured humvee wearing full CADPAT, now he was sitting in the dark under a gothic bridge wearing a ragged tan coat and equally ragged sweatpants.
Slowly, noise started to come to him again. Voices above in a strange language, horses, and the odd car.
More memory came back, silent screaming, blood, and his legs.
Quickly Cameron rolled up "his" sweats, poking and prodding his legs to make sure they were real. He kept rolling until he came to a jagged scar just above his knee running around his leg like a crown of thorns. Around it there were numerous other scars much smaller and lighter, shrapnel.
He should be dead, so was this the afterlife? It didn't look like heaven...
Cameron stold up, placing his hand against the ancient looking cobble behind him for support. The bridge was colossal, nowhere near the scale that any sane person would build for a bridge of it's kind. Below there were hundreds of buildings, each in a similar gothic style.
Having stood up, Cameron could now see the gun and knife sitting where he just was. More importantly, they were his gun and knife, a glock-17 and survival knife. A cude painting of a yellow smiley face on the handle of each that he had created in Afghanistan marked them as such.
He took both, slipping them into the large pocket of his jacket before noticing the man who had stopped on the other side of the underpass to watch him. "Man" was a little generous, as he had nothing in the way of skin, and little flesh, atleast as far as his exposed face and arms went.
"Oh, shit!" Cameron said, stepping back quickly, and holding his hand over his pocket as the "man" continued to stare. Cameron backed into the cobble wall at the end of the underpass. Next to him was a staircase, which he quickly took.
Emerging out onto street level his heart dropped. There were dozens, if not hundreds of the undead creatures walking around, mingling between the human and demonic with nobody else noticing.
His neck was as itchy as hell now, tingles flowing through his body and tensing his muscles. He did the only thing reasonable at the moment and ran, sprinting through the crowd as quickly as he could with little idea of where he was going.