The lifeless, mangled remains of the biter remained sprawled out in the corridor, while a cloud of flies converged, drawn to the putrid odor. The scent of decaying flesh permeated the atmosphere, growing increasingly intolerable.

Likeminded, Brooklyn and Samuel spread a bed sheet over the body. Blood soaked into the sheet, immediately turning it from a bright clean white into a dark gruesome red.

Together they struggled to lift the body, sluggishly heaving the corpse to the balcony, taking short breaks to catch their timid breaths. Samuel slid the door open, their bodies became sore and weak from the strain. The couple managed to drag the corpse through the open door.

The cold winters wind flowed through their hair. Samuel's frozen face was full of guilt, with the help of Brooklyn they remorsefully lifted the body over the railing. Unable to watch, they squinted their eyes as a loud thud echoed through the tight side alley.

As of it was scripted a thunderous bang echoed across the city, closely followed by large droplets of heavy rain. The sky became a dark angry grey. Cowering from the rain, Brooklyn quickly stepped inside. Samuel gazed up at the angry clouds, allowing the rain to hit his face. He tightly shut his eyes taking in a deep breath.

Another booming lighting strike hit the earth nearby, vibrating the floor. The gnawing teeth from the biter he had mutilated repeatedly replayed in his mind. Gradually opening his depressed eyes Samuel stood still, watching the rain hit his face, as if he was in slow motion.

Distant deathly groans echoed through the city. Grabbing Samuel's attention, he stepped towards the balcony railing, leaning over, his eyes scanned the darkened streets below, searching for the source of the distant groans. The rain poured heavily, creating a veil of mist and obscuring his view. But as he peered through the thick droplets, he saw them.

Emerging from the shadows of alleyways and converging upon the streets, a large horde of biters began to slowly limp by. Their gaunt figures, draped in tattered and torn clothing, moved in unison, their steps labored and disjointed. The horde seemed endless, stretching far beyond what Samuel's eyes could perceive. Their movements were agonizingly sluggish, as if they were burdened by the weight of their own decomposition.

Their groans filled the air, a symphony of despair and hunger that echoed through the rain-soaked streets. It was a chilling sound, a chorus of lost souls trapped in an eternal torment, their insatiable hunger driving them forward. Each step they took brought them closer to the living, a threat lurking within their slow and relentless march.

The rain continued to fall, drenching the dead as they shuffled forward. Their sunken faces turned upward, seemingly unaffected by the downpour. Samuel's breath caught in his throat as he watched the horde pass beneath his vantage point. He could almost feel their empty gazes upon him, their collective desire for the living tangible in the air.

With a heavy heart, he stepped back from the balcony, as he closed the door behind him, the sounds of the dead slowly faded into the distance, yet their presence remained etched into Samuel's mind. The rain continued to pour, a somber backdrop to the encroaching darkness that had enveloped the city.

Samuel was soaked from the rain, unbothered by his freezing body temperature he mentioned, "I'm going to search the rooms for food."

"Can I help?" Brooklyn asked.

Samuel nodded his head agreeing, "Just be careful."

With Brooklyn following closely behind, Samuel stepped into the hallway. His knife was laying flat on the ground, the flickering light reflecting off the shiny blade, and the red blood.

Crouching low to the ground, he slowly picked up the knife, his fingers tightly wrapping around the handle. He stared at the blood covered blade, wiping it clean on the carpet.

Sluggishly standing to his feet, he tucked the knife into the back of his belt. Gazing down the hallway, his attention was brought back to the stairwell door, closed shut by their couch.

Samuel looked back at Brooklyn who was leaning against the hallway wall, "Search the rooms on the left, I'll take the right side."

"Understood." Brooklyn affirmed peeling off into the first door on the left.

Samuel's eyes dropped to the messy blood stain soaked into the carpet. Splatters of blood were covering the walls. The voices of the biter's groans and growls were muffled in his head. Shaking his head, he stepped down the hallway, opening the first door on the right.

As Samuel pushed open the door, a musty odor wafted through the air, mingling with the dampness from the rain outside. The balcony door had been left wide open, allowing the strong breeze to swirl inside. Pages of documents and photographs were thrown on the ground, blowing around the room from the winters wind.

Samuel stepped towards the door, pushing aside the moth eaten curtains, he slid the balcony door shut. His eyes darted around the room, taking in every aspect of the life in which this tourist lived.

The walls were adorned with faded floral patterns, their vibrancy lost to time and neglect. A worn-out armchair sat in the corner, its once-plush cushion now deflated and threadbare. Next to it, a rickety wooden table leaned slightly to one side, burdened by a stack of yellowed newspapers and a solitary, half-empty bottle of whiskey. The bed, situated against the far wall, was unmade, its sheets disheveled and stained. The room was much different to the young couples.

A cracked mirror hung above a chipped dresser, reflecting a distorted image of the room. Its tarnished frame hinted at a bygone era of elegance, now faded and worn. A few personal belongings were scattered haphazardly on the dresser's surface—a faded photograph, a tarnished locket, and a cracked porcelain figurine, each holding memories of a life interrupted.

In one corner of the room, a small writing desk stood, covered in a thin layer of dust. A pen and an empty journal lay abandoned on the desk, remnants of aspirations once held dear. Samuel cautiously stepped further into the room, his footsteps creaking on the wooden floorboards.

He began his search, opening drawers that revealed scraps of faded photographs, old letters stained with tears, and trinkets that held sentimental value to someone long gone. Each item seemed to carry a piece of the past, a reminder of the world before it had been overrun by chaos and decay.

Samuel's fingers brushed against a weathered leather-bound book, its pages yellowed and brittle. Opening it gently, he discovered handwritten notes, inked with delicate strokes that told tales of love, loss, and the unyielding resilience of the human spirit. The words whispered secrets, capturing the emotions and experiences of a forgotten soul.

Lost in the stories of the room, Samuel couldn't help but ponder the lives that once inhabited these walls. Who were the people who called this room home? What dreams did they pursue? What hardships did they endure?

With a heavy sigh, Samuel closed the book, carefully placing it back on the desk. The room had given him a momentary respite from the grim reality outside, a glimpse into the fragility and beauty of the human experience. But the search for sustenance called him back to the present.

Searching the small dirty kitchen, Samuel opened drawers, cupboards and boxes, only managing to find three cans of soup and a mouldy bread loaf. Throwing the loaf onto the floor, he gathered his findings leaving the room behind, his mind filled with the echoes of the stories he had discovered.

Samuel moved across the hallway to the next room. Pushing open the door, a stark contrast greeted his eyes. This room belonged to a university student, evident from the vibrant posters adorning the walls and the scattered textbooks and notebooks strewn across the desk. The atmosphere seemed to crackle with youthful energy, a nostalgic reminder of days filled with aspirations and academic pursuits.

The walls were covered in posters that reflected the student's eclectic tastes and interests. Music bands, movie icons, and thought-provoking artwork created a vibrant collage that brought a touch of life to the otherwise somber surroundings. The light from a desk lamp flickered on and off casting long shadows across the room.

A desk sat against one wall, cluttered with textbooks and loose sheets of paper. The textbooks, filled with highlighted passages and penciled annotations, hinted at the student's dedication to their studies.

A small bookshelf stood proudly in the corner, its shelves overflowing with a diverse collection of novels, poetry anthologies, and academic tomes. The titles revealed the student's wide-ranging interests, from classic literature to philosophy, science fiction to history. Post-it notes jutted out, marking favorite passages and important ideas.

The bed, neatly made, showcased a colorful array of blankets and throw pillows, a testament to the student's sense of personal style. The room had an aura of comfort, inviting relaxation and reflection amidst the chaotic world beyond its walls. A guitar leaned against a nearby chair, its strings waiting to be strummed, melodies waiting to be composed.

A corkboard hung above the desk, adorned with photographs, postcards, and handwritten notes. Memories of friends, both near and far, smiled back at Samuel, frozen moments of joy and camaraderie captured in faded Polaroids and hastily scribbled messages. The room whispered stories of laughter-filled nights and intellectual debates that once filled the air.

Searching the room, Samuel only managed to find small snacks, such as beef jerky, chips, and a half eaten burger which was sitting on top of the side table.

Taking what he could Samuel exited the room. With a large stressful sigh, he stood disappointed in the hallway. His search for food was seeming to be unsuccessful. Brushing himself off, he stepped down the hallway to the next room. Quickly realising it was in fact the room the biter sprung out from.

The partially open door exuded a putrid stench, seeping out into the surrounding space. With hesitant fingers, Samuel gingerly pushed against the chilly wooden surface, gradually revealing what lay beyond. A faint, mournful sound resonated from the dimly lit room—a feeble, gurgling noise.

The flickering hallway light cast its uncertain glow, piercing through the darkness and illuminating the scene. The gurgles grew in intensity as Samuel cautiously stepped forward, his trembling hand hovering over his knife, ready for any potential threat.

Nestled in the corner, a baby cot stood, marred by stains of blood. A profound heaviness settled upon Samuel's heart, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. The gurgles continued, echoing from the cot, tugging at Samuel's conscience. Overwhelmed with fear, he approached the cot, each step laden with terror.

Peering inside, he came face to face with a tiny, blood-smeared hand reaching out toward him. Samuel froze in place, immobilized by the sight. The child before him appeared no older than two, with an ashen complexion and lifeless gray eyes. A small knife was lodged in the child's fragile heart.

In a panic, Samuel staggered backward, his own feet betraying him as he tumbled to the floor, landing flat on his back. From this vulnerable position, he stared at the cot, unable to tear his gaze away, listening to the desperate, plaintive moans emanating from the innocent being.

Tears streamed down his face, cascading uncontrollably. They merged with his shock-stricken expression, his hands instinctively pressed against his mouth. His heart pounded faster than ever, consumed by a whirlwind of emotions.

Samuel's mind raced, torn between horror and a desperate urge to end the baby's suffering. With trembling hands, he reached for the knife secured in his belt. Every fiber of his being protested against the act he was about to commit, but he knew deep down that it was an act of mercy.

Gathering what little strength he had left, Samuel rose from the floor, his legs unsteady as he approached the blood-stained cot. The baby's groans grew more desperate, as if pleading for release from its torment.

Swallowing hard, Samuel held his breath and carefully grasped the handle of the knife. His hand shook uncontrollably, but he steadied it as best he could. The room seemed to fall silent, except for the haunting gurgles that echoed in his ears.

With tears streaming down his face, Samuel closed his eyes, unable to witness the grim deed he was about to perform. He took a deep breath and, summoning all his courage, guided the blade towards the tiny heart that bore the weight of immense suffering.

A brief, piercing moment passed—a heart-wrenching mixture of sorrow and relief. Samuel felt the resistance give way as the knife punctured the baby's frail skull. The gurgles abruptly ceased, replaced by a profound stillness that engulfed the room.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, tears blurring his vision. The sight before him was heartrending, but he knew in his soul that he had done what he believed was right. A sense of melancholic tranquility settled upon Samuel as he closed the baby's lifeless eyes, offering a final act of kindness.

Collapsing to his knees, Samuel wept uncontrollably, overcome by the weight of the tragedy he had witnessed and the burden he had shouldered. The room, once filled with sorrowful gurgles, was now enveloped in an eerie silence, heavy with the weight of a life extinguished.