A zombie that comes at me because of the sound I am making is missing half its face, its jaw dangling from a few stubborn tendons. Lovely. I grab its head and twist. Hard. There's a sickening crack, and it drops like a sack of expired meat.
The next one pounces with clawed hands, but I sidestep, grab its arm, and wrench it clean off. A disgusting squelch follows, and black, rancid blood splatters across the floor.
"Ew. Oh, that is so nasty."
I use the severed arm as a club and bash the next zombie with it. It's not the most dignified way to fight, but hey, desperate times.
The problem is, they don't stop coming. Even with me tearing through them like an undead hurricane, they just keep shuffling forward, mindless and unrelenting. And worse… there are noises coming from the girls' room.
Oh, no.
CRASH.
I freeze. That sound isn't coming from here.
It is coming from the girls' room.
Oh, hell no.