It's dark around, the lanterns have long been extinguished in the city and a cold wind was walking along the gloomy alleys. And these disgusting wheezing and slurping were constantly heard. The dead shuffle their feet somewhere nearby, snap their teeth, want to dig into your throat.

— And I know that my little dessert is somewhere... here...

This voice sounds musty and dry, like the earth itself. You turn around in fright, trying not to make the slightest sound. Lieutenant?