"Please! PLEASE! I DON'T DESERVE TO GO THIS WAY!"
The voice haunts you, but you try to sternly resist the urge to help. He's gone now... and... NO! damn it! God damn you!
No plan, no tactics, and only the power of love to guide your fury, you charge back down the stairs, howling like Michael Jackson. Down the stairs, down, down, foot over foot, straight for the slumped over figure of the man. Blood everywhere. No time! The zombie is slurping away at meat, distracted, almost happy. No! No more joy for zombies!
Your foos-ball kick lands hard, a direct hit to the zombie's chin! Even the zombie is amazed by your stunning act of heroism, watching you, eyes wide, as its head pops right off the neck, sailing across the room to smack against the far wall. Somehow, even after that, the head is still zombie-alive, and it stares at you with those empty, awe-struck eyes, a clump of flesh falling from its mouth. Stunning!
"It hurts! it hurts!" the man moans, simpering like a baby.
"We're almost to safety, just stay cool! STAY COOL!" you urge him back, stroking his forehead and scalp lovingly.
With top speed, you help the man to his feet and quickly carry him up the stairs to the roof. Once the door is safely barred and secure, you tend to his wounds, tearing off a sleeve of your shirt to stop the man's bleeding. He looks ghostly white!