What in the [u]actual[/u] fuck is this?

That was the thought that constantly rang inside of Stewart's head as he ran through the hallways, his heeled loafers echoing throughout the area. His running stopped, coming to a corner to catch his breath and trying not to vomit from both exhaustion and disgust from the copious amount of blood and the obvious dead people eating living people thing. His panting slowed as he swallowed down his vomit. He could hear them clearly, though it was hard to tell if they were behind him or ahead of him. Running was the only option at this point due to the lack of not having any type of way to defend himself.

Stewart looked to his left and then to his right. "Left or right... Left or right?" Now wasn't the time for stupid decision making, he'd have time for that when he's either dead or somewhere safe. "Fuck it. Left." He turned to the left and continued running down the new hallway, not paying attention to the sounds behind the doors or the oh-so-fabulous blood decor that those things picked out for this shitty hotel. "Some vacation..." He groaned, "I knew I should've stayed my black ass in Louisiana..." Sighing through the panting, he slowed to a walk. Stewart grabbed onto a doorknob, trying the door. No luck.

Taking a deep breath and taking a step back, Stewart eyed the door. "Come on... Open please?" He narrowed his eyes, lifting up his foot and brought against the door with a bit of force, hoping that he'd kick the bastard loose. Again, no luck. "Fuck..." He whispered in an irritated tone before trying again.