The room was silent, save for the ragged sound of their own breathing and the distant, fading moans of the horde. They were a sorry sight, dripping pool water onto the cracked floor, shivering in the cool air.
"We can't stay here," Shihab said, his voice low but firm. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion and a simmering anger he was struggling to contain. "The noise or the smell will draw them back. We must move."
He led the way, his crowbar held tight, as they slipped out of the building through a side gate. The street was eerily quiet, a testament to the diversion Shihab had created. A few blocks away, they spotted their salvation: a dusty red car parked nearby, its driver's side window smashed, likely from an old looting attempt.
"Check it," Shihab
