I lead my classmates down the hall and for the first time since entering that room, I realize I don’t know who I’m trying to save. I don’t even recognize some of these kids, they probably ducked into the first classroom they could find. Some of them have been going to school with me since kindergarten yet we’ve never had a real conversation. Now’s probably not the best time to get to know one another. Although the urge fills me to the core. Anyone up for a game of 20 questions?
The sickly moan from down the hall quickens my pace. I turn for a split second to see a bloodied football player a ways back. If we run, we can make it to the exit. The problem is, he’s running too, full speed ahead, ready to tackle me or one of the people I’m responsible for. Football pads would come in handy at a time like this.
Luckily, the chair isn’t too heavy or it would slow me down. I slam into the stairwell so hard I’m surprised I didn’t knock the door off its hinges. We’re there. The exit should look like a gateway to freedom but it doesn’t. Not for me.
I swing the chair with all my might, cracking the leg but leaving the glass door fully intact. My classmates cram into the tiny vestibule with me. For their sake, I pray I don’t turn into one of those monsters before I can lead them to safety.
I swing again, leaving an inch wide hole in the center, just above the padlocked handle. With their eyes all focused on the hopeful view of the outside world, I look back towards the hallway as I rip the chair from the glass, breaking it a bit more. The football player can’t be more than twenty feet away. We’re out of time.
“Shane, hurry, hold that door shut!”
He does as instructed and not a moment too soon. The linebacker slams full force into the glass, quickly spreading lines across it as he begins banging on the other side. A few good hits and it’s coming down.
I turn my attention back to the door that will lead us to freedom and once again swing the chair with all the might my fading body can muster. Them. Lead them to freedom.
I break through.
With one more swing, the last of the glass shatters to the floor.
The rain is heavy. If I step out in it, would it wash away the disease that might kill me at any second? A form of baptism to rid us of an evil no church ever dreamed of protecting us from. I know the water can’t save me but I’m not dead yet, I can still dream.
“Go! Get out of here. Run!”
I step aside to let the familiar strangers free. A feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me I’ll never see any of them again and if I do, it won’t be under friendly circumstances.
“Get to your cars and leave! Don’t look back.” As they duck underneath the padlocked handle, I step across the vestibule and lean against the door Shane’s been holding shut. “You did it. Go. I got this. Keep Kristen safe, you hear me Shane? She needs you. Doug too.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. What are you gonna do?”
“Get as many people out as I can before it’s too late.” I look at the other two standing there, staring at me while the entryway clears out, probably wondering why I’m not joining them. “Stick together.”
“Noah.” Doug shakes his head on the verge of tears. “We can’t leave you. We don’t even know if, if you have it, if you’re gonna turn. We can’t leave you here.”
Shane and Kristen nod in agreement, looking like they want to hug me and hold on for dear life. I wonder if it’s because they’ll truly miss me or because they won’t know what to do without me.
“You have to. I gotta get Paul and Caylee out of here.”
“Caylee?” Kristen asks, bewildered. “You don’t even know the girl. You can’t risk your life for her.”
“Hey, if I’m gonna die anyway… We were actually going out tonight. I finally talked to her this morning. Some first date, huh?”
Kristen’s hands shoot to her mouth in a confused moment of joy and sadness. It isn’t going to happen. I finally get a date with Caylee Martinez and I’ll be dead before it starts. For a brief moment, there isn’t a pane of glass separating us from a zombie dead set on ripping our bodies to bits, we’re just four normal high school kids talking about the girl they said I’d never have the balls to ask out. But only for a moment.
“Guys, you gotta go.” I can feel the door start to give way beneath the incessant pounding. “Stay together, protect each other.” The glass is splitting. “Thank you for everything. I love you.” A crack begins to spider-web its way across the window. “Run.” It comes out so calmly they nod at me solemnly as if I just said I’ll meet up with them at lunch.
“Run.”
They take off into the rain in a trancelike state. I want nothing more than to be running with them.
CHAPTER 6
Chair in hand, I turn to face the zombie disguised as a high school football player, still trying to fight his way into the vestibule even though I’m the only one left. It’s him versus me. I need to give my friends a head start, they’ll need all the time they can get, especially in the pouring rain. The parking lot isn’t far but Doug will panic and drop his keys trying to unlock the door. Shane’s a bit cooler in tight situations. God, I hope they take Shane’s car.
With one more crunch of the glass it becomes obvious, it’s breaking. I grip the back of the chair tighter than the lap bar on a rollercoaster and kick the door open. I’m not sure if I just want to get this over with or if I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking through on his own. The door slams against the bloodthirsty monster and knocks him back into a sea of shattering glass. I rush through before it closes and swing the chair as hard as I can.
The two front legs snap off on contact, taking him down. I should run while I have the chance but I can’t resist the urge to put this shell of a student out of his misery. Fight or flight. This isn’t the place I want to die fighting but the thought of my friends running for the parking lot gives me that extra bit of courage. It doesn’t matter if this thing kills me or I kill it, it doesn’t change the fact that if I am indeed infected, in a matter of minutes I’m going to be just like him. Courage be damned, this is a race against time.
I don’t want to be him. The thought of it enrages me.
I swing the remaining bits of chair over and over again, harder each time. Splinters of wood erupt from its mangled form, spewing every which way. I should have taken the few extra steps and grabbed one of the metal chairs instead, not that it matters anymore but the thought keeps my mind occupied. Anything’s better than where I stand, alone, swinging ruthlessly at what I’ll become.
My eyes scan the hall in hopes of something I can kill him with. I don’t know what I expect to find. It’s a hallway. The risk of breaking into a nearby classroom isn’t worth it, the last thing I want to do is bring the fight to whoever is hiding inside. Besides, desks, chairs and textbooks aren’t working very well. I need something more.
Why won’t this son of a bitch stop moving? Its tenacity infuriates me and I swing harder and faster, vaguely aware of my heartrate kicking into overdrive from the exertion. I could fall over any second. Could it be part of the transformation? It feels like I’m losing control. The blood flying out of his wounded body is making me… happy. I want to see more. It needs to suffer for what’s going to happen to me.
I can barely make out his face but continue whacking it repeatedly with what was once a chair. It’s not enough. I want to bash its head in until there’s no head left. The sight of it sickens me. I can’t be turning yet, I have no desire to get down and lick it all up. I just want to look away and bawl my eyes out.
I can’t do this anymore.
My muscles weaken. The chunk of wood that barely resembles its former self falls from my hands. I collapse to my knees, unable to hold back tears that vanish into the bloody pool of what used to be a human’s head. Bile fills my mouth but I’m too weak to puke, opting to spit the warm liquid out instead. If I knew this was what today had in store for me, I never would have gotten out of bed. I’d have slit my wrist and died peacefully.
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My eyes close. I’m worried when I open them, I won’t be me anymore. I hug them shut even tighter, trying to stop the tears from falling. I don’t want to die crying. I want someone’s arms around me. I just want somebody to hold me and tell me everything will be alright even though we’ll both know it’s a lie. I don’t want to be alone in this empty hallway where the surreal silence makes me sad in a way I couldn’t describe if I spent the rest of my life trying to. The screams in the distance don’t sound real, they could be some stupid Halloween soundtrack stuck on repeat. The incessant rain coming down in sheets outside only adds to the mystique.
Silence.
Shouldn’t this thing be getting up and coming after me? He should be killing me right now. Honestly, I’m counting on it. With my eyes shut, I won’t have to see a thing. I’m hoping the pain of being eaten alive will make me pass out quickly.
He should be coming after me by now. Unless, maybe I’ve turned. They don’t seem to eat one another.
I pry my eyes open slowly as if trying to protect them from the sun shining through my curtain on a Saturday morning. My eyelashes let go of each other one by one, breaking through the crusty tears beginning to dry there. Everything comes back into focus slowly like waking up from a deep sleep.
Almost involuntarily I close them again, disgusted by the horrendous mess I’ve created. It’s no wonder he isn’t moving. His head is gone. There’s no clean line where it was cut off, just fragments of it all over the floor. I can’t look. The scariest part is not seeing the destruction but knowing I caused it.
I’m a monster. I simply haven’t turned yet.
I stand on wobbly knees and look away. My friends should be driving off to someplace safe by now. If such a place still exists.
With nothing to protect myself with, I step over the broken sea of shimmering red crystals crunching with every footfall and make my way upstairs. Paul and Caylee have homeroom on the second floor. I pray they made it there in time.
There’s blood everywhere, splattered across the floor and lockers, the once white tiles on the ceiling look like they’ve been paintballed in some rival school’s idea of a prank. The smell that made me throw up earlier is becoming second nature, I barely register the stench. I fear for the time when it makes me hungry.
Down the hall there’s at least ten of them trying to get into a classroom. On the bright side, it’s the second floor so at least they can’t sneak in through the windows, but that means anyone in there has no way out. How the hell do I fight off ten of them? I could draw them towards me but there’s no guarantee they’ll all come. Even if I can lure them away, the people inside aren’t going to come out, they’ll stay in there where they think they’ll be safe.
The only promising weapons in this whole place I can think are in shop class, on the other side of the building, first floor at that. There’s no way I can make it all the way there and back. I can’t, I could turn any second. How long has it been? I feel like I should have become one of them by now. Damn it, do I have it or not? What the fuck am I supposed to do?
Cautiously I turn the corner and make my way to the chemistry lab. Maybe I can light these bastards on fire. Of course that might leave me with flaming, flesh eating zombies on my hands but I suppose I really don’t have much choice.
One of the doors hangs broken from its hinges, revealing the remains of a massacre inside. The sight of bloody body parts scattered across the floor stops me dead in my tracks. They must have forced their way in, eaten everyone who didn’t make it out in time and left the carnage. A ribcage sits by the door, picked clean. That is a human ribcage. The only sign that it’s not some sort of classroom prop is the red stain on the bones. It conjures up images of piranhas in the Amazon.
Groans and slurping emanate from inside the classroom masquerading as a slaughterhouse. It’s hard to tell how many there are but they’ll surely be coming after me the second I step in. I stay close to the lockers on the other side of the hall, hoping they can’t pick up my scent from this distance. Unarmed, I don’t stand a chance, hell, even with an M-16, I probably wouldn’t defeat them. If I run fast enough, maybe I can grab a Bunsen burner and make it out before they notice.
The rain’s louder here, the air denser, the windows must be open, maybe broken. A few of them are hanging around a window, there must be someone in the courtyard they have their sights set on. I highly doubt they want some fresh air. I wonder if this is the room I saw people jumping from. If it is, I don’t blame them. I would rather splatter on the concrete than have the flesh scavenged from my bones. I can’t imagine what that would do to someone who witnessed it firsthand. For their sake, I hope they’re already dead.
Two of the undead are picking away at an unidentifiable carcass on the floor. My eyes land on the trays just to the left of the mostly eaten body. They’re covered with chemicals, Bunsen burners and even the little metal splints to light them. All I need is one tray.
I inhale deeply the way I would before a race. My heart beats wildly inside my heaving chest and I’m positive if I were to look down I’d be able to see my shirt shaking from the tiny vibrations. It’s now or never.
I kick off the lockers and run like hell. When you run really fast, so fast it feels like you’re not even moving, everything stops. I’m not moving quickly, it’s just that the world has ceased to move around me. My ears tune everything out. All I hear is the sound of my rhythmic breathing. My heart thumping. Someone crying? I know it’s not me. I’m too scared to cry. Too determined.
My feet leave the ground with a leap over the detached ribcage. I land just beyond it but the floor’s too wet. I tell myself it’s from the rain but rain isn’t thick and gooey. I can’t stop myself from sliding. The tray is right there. All I have to do is grab it. If I can just stay on my feet I’ll be out of here before they can catch me.
My body slams into the cart of trays, waiting there for the students of first period. This is probably where Paul was going to take his test. I grab the first one my hands come to and run back before my feet have a chance to regain traction. Now I know how Mopster’s fluffy ass felt when he tried to run on the kitchen floor.
Over the sounds of zombies feeding I can still hear the crying; soft, scared, hopeless. I don’t see anybody, I don’t even know where it’s coming from. All I can do is hope some poor soul isn’t being eaten alive, still conscious and aware of what’s going on. I consider turning one of these flames on myself just to stop me from doing that to someone else but–
“Help me, please.” The soft whimper flutters in through the window like the voice of a ghost, faintly audible over the white noise of the rain. With one last desperate plea, she cries while clinging to her remaining seconds of life.
There’s nothing I can do.
My foot brushes against the ribcage as I race back by. They must have heard me. I’m not moving nearly as fast now that my shoes are covered in bodily fluids that I’d rather not think about. I make it out the door and into the hallway, stop running and slide across the floor until I crash into the lockers where I started. Somehow I’ve managed to keep almost everything on the tray.
“Help,” the defeated voice quivers before turning into an emaciated scream. “Please help me, please!”
While regaining my footing, I turn to face the room. Either the zombies didn’t notice me or didn’t care. Maybe their hands are full with whatever meal they’re enjoying and they aren’t interested in me. I’ve heard of criminals throwing guard dogs a slab of meat to distract them while they rob the place, maybe human bodies were this burglar’s steak. Something else occurs to me, something I don’t want to admit but might have to, what if they didn’t eat me because I’m already one of them? Have I turned, or come so close they don’t even smell me anymore?
“Oh my god! Help, whoever’s there, help me!”
A dismembered corpse continues eating the last bits of human remains while the other gets up and joins his fallen comrades. They’re trying to climb out
the window. The ledge will be slippery from the rain, with any luck they’ll fall and whoever’s unfortunate enough to be out there will be spared, for now.
The voice finally registers. I’ve never heard her cry. Has anyone? I should have known. It’s Felecia. She didn’t jump. If it were someone else I would feel bad, maybe even consider helping them, but my time is too precious. There are people who need me, people who didn’t ask me to the eighth grade dance only to laugh in my face the next day like it was some big joke. Mom had already taken me to get my first suit.
I shake my head, thinking about the lives I’ve ended in the last fifteen minutes, and realize as I walk away that this will be the first time I’ve ever killed another human being. Sorry Felecia, I guess I’ll see you in hell.
CHAPTER 7
The tray rattles in my hands as I run down the abandoned hall, suddenly missing the normal chaos that ensues between bells. The group of zombies has grown outside the room, maybe even doubled. I can’t get too close to these things, definitely not close enough to light them on fire. Somehow I know, flames won’t stop them. It’ll probably take a good minute or two before they’ll be too burnt to move.
A fluorescent rain coat inside an open locker catches my attention. This might be crazy enough to work.
I rip it from its hanger and search through the contents of the locker until I find a bottle of perfume. An unnecessary amount of squirts later and the coat is drenched. The arms tie around it fairly easily, making the perfect pouch to shove the open bottle into. I grab another bottle from the top shelf and twist the top off. Thank god I found a girl’s locker, otherwise I’d be smelling some dude’s disgusting AXE body spray right now.
Blood Type Infected (Book 1): No Future For Man Page 4