These lights are blinding. They cast a terrifying shadow of this dead parade over my empty cage, as well as the empty buildings that occupy this city. The mass has been wandering towards what looks to be a residential area. My thoughts turn towards what I believe we will eventually stumble upon. I hear the echos of that helpless woman. Are there more people in this city? How could anyone survive this monotonous onslaught? The street lights are dimmer now. Most flicker on and off as if the city itself was slowly dying. The brief darkness taunts me with a temporary escape from this place. As the crowd starts to thin, I notice that my body has now entered the quaint streets that were once filled with the everyday pedestrians that I had taken for granted. The houses are quiet. My body browses these homes as if it were shopping for groceries. I keep telling myself that there is nothing to be found, that there is no one left, but I can not drown out the doubt that plagues me. I am now afraid of the living, the conscious. My body stops and turns to the left. A face in the window disappears behind, once still, curtains. I had seen it but was my body aware? This question is quickly answered as my corpse begins to stumble towards the front door of this now, doomed home.

     The deep groans ring out from my mangled face as if to invite all to the feast. I watch my hands turn to fists and begin to pound on the front door as we are joined by the other enthusiastic dinner guests. I can feel the rage and hunger returning to my corner of the mind. I notice the numbers "4216" boldly stamped on the side of this house. Is "4216" the host of a horror that I have been unable to even imagine? This hunger slowly consumes me. I can smell it, I can taste it and I can feel it.

I will go on, but as I like to say, "some things are better off left undead."