Death choked and spat me out to a place where the usual laws of physics refuse to exist, mechanisms refuse to work for the benefit of people, and people themselves sometimes refuse to be people. Death spat me out, but the respite was short - my body was infected with a disease that would definitely kill me. And I have only one chance to cure her - to find something that I never knew existed, where I have never been. Against me is a whole small world, every inch of which is friends with Death, but not with me. For me - only the right gun, a backpack full of ammunition, and constantly popping up tips in my head about when, in which direction and how to use them as effectively as possible. Death choked on me and spat me out. Next time she won't get away so easily.