@samsays92 was e̵n̸c̵o̶u̶n̸t̴e̷r̵e̷d̶ HERE!
Sam gulps, a sinking feeling in gut sounds as if on cue, and his feet root him to the ground. Those words... Has he really been out and about for so long? Yes. And he's been fighting, and looting, this whole time. God, what's going to happen? What cursed creature is after him this time? He steels his nerves and readies his weapon on his side. "Show yourself." It's meant to intimidate, though he can barely believe the tone himself.
The room pulses, almost as though breathing and as if obeying his command, the darkness itself began to coalesce, coming together until it had amassed into... whatever was staring down the little man daring to stand before it. Pinpricks of red cut through the black, and it was absolutely sizing him up. Sam. One of the few remaining inhabitants who hadn't y̸e̶t̶ looked outside. Unchanged, unnerved but still willing to stand his ground despite the very real danger he'd consistently put himself in, abandoning the safety of his little room to do the things he needed to do. Now that danger had been given form, lurching towards him on shambling limbs.
“▅▅▄▄▃▃▂▂???” Somehow, you understand it. "W̷ h̵ y̷ ̶ d̶ o̴ ̷ y̵ o̴ u̸ ̴ n̷ o̸ t̸ ̷ r̶ u̵ n̶?̸" (why do you not run?) The question springs to mind unbidden. Fighting and searching for supplies was one thing; survival was essential to all living creatures, but Sam was... different, somehow. Most people would not do what he did, would not make the sacrifices necessary. Most people would simply hunker down in the safety of their homes until the storm had passed, but not Sam. The path back to Apartment 33 was clear. Sam still had enough time to escape if he wanted to, to run back home where it was safe, but if he stayed, they might both learn the answer to that question.