by Brian Rowe
“Who’s there?” Anaya said.
Silence.
“Brin? Is that you?”
Still nothing.
Anaya let the phone drop to the floor. She stepped quietly to the right side of the room, where the teacher’s desk was located. She looked for another phone, but she didn’t see one. She opened all six of the drawers, desperate for a cell phone. She saw everything—note pads, calculators, a Rubik’s cube, the Bible. But no phone.
“Damn it!” Anaya shouted.
She brought her hand over her mouth when the knock on the door returned, only to this time become a loud pounding. She darted her eyes in every direction. She couldn’t believe it: she had picked a classroom with only one way in and out.
She took a few steps forward and looked up at the second story above. This was one of two science classrooms with a staircase that led to a second story room, one that housed the teacher’s office, as well as multiple bookshelves and lab materials.
Anaya crept toward the staircase. She knew upstairs would be safer—it’d give her a more appropriate place to hide.
She started making her way up to the second story, one slow footstep at a time, like if she made too much noise, the zombies might stop chasing the others and put 100 percent of their focus on her.
“I do have the most meat on my bones,” she said with a reluctant grin. Anaya felt OK about owning up to her status as one of the fat kids. She’d been overweight all her life. But she knew it would be more beneficial at the moment to be a seventy-pound stick figure; the zombies probably wouldn’t even notice her.
When Anaya reached the top step she heard the sound of one of the two doors opening below, even though she thought they were both locked.
“Shit,” she whispered, and she rushed forward into the tiny office bungalow to find a place to hide.
The room was a mess. Papers cluttered the extended desk area; beakers, test tubes, flasks, and graduated cylinders covered most of the stained carpet; and the giant skeleton model at the edge of the balcony almost made her scream again.
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t scream.”
As she heard a rustle of footsteps from below, she turned to her right to see a tiny twin bed, one covered with a single layer of black bed sheets. She didn’t know why the teacher would have a bed in his classroom; she could only suppose he liked to take naps during his prep period. But it was just high enough off the ground to hide her.
She fell down to her kneels and crawled underneath the bed. She felt her hips rubbing up against the brown carpet, and she barely missed slamming the top of her forehead against the side of the mattress. She pushed herself all the way inside and rolled over on her back.
When she heard the footsteps coming up the staircase, she shoved her hands against her mouth and tried not to breathe. The feet appeared to her left, and she knew, on first glance, these weren’t the feet of a human. She knew some people needed pedicures more than others, but these feet looked like they’d been stuffed under the earth for a decade or two. Browned with dirt, with toenails that stretched out more than two inches, this creature in the science room was obviously hunting not for poisonous lab chemicals but for a fleshy home-cooked meal.
“FOOOOOOOD,” the creature said, walking toward the twin bed.
Anaya held her breath. She didn’t move. She stared up at the bottom of the mattress and tried not to scream from the footsteps, or from the eerie voice, or from the nauseating odor emanating from the vile creature.
She turned to her left. The feet were inches away from her face. All the zombie needed to do was kneel down to see her.
But he didn’t. He sauntered toward the lab equipment on the other side of the loft for a minute or so, then calmly headed back down the staircase.
Anaya listened intently as the zombie’s footsteps stopped halfway down the staircase. Ten seconds passed. Twenty seconds. She didn’t hear another sound.
She turned her head back to the left to see if the zombie had returned. There was no sign of him.
Anaya shifted herself to the right, up against the wall. She wasn’t going to be one of those stupid, blonde, horror movie bimbos who retreats from her place of hiding the minute she thinks she’s safe. Anaya was going to stay put, for a few minutes, for a few days, even; however long it would take.
She closed her eyes.
But she didn’t keep them closed for long; The warm, sour breath on her cheek opened them back up.
Anaya looked in front of her to see a yellow, molting, rotting face, one that she had never even encountered in her most horrifying nightmare. The creature grinned big, revealing a set of pointy yellow teeth that looked like urine-stained crystals.
“HE-HE-HE,” the zombie said. “DINNER!”
Anaya didn’t suppress her scream this time.
The zombie latched onto her belly and pulled her out from under the bed.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Come on, come on, bring it on!” Paul shouted as the stream of zombies charged through the English classroom and tried to score a bite of the irritated vampire.
Paul lifted up a bouquet of newly sharpened yellow pencils and twirled them around his fingers like he was a master showman. A zombie pressed up against him, and he slammed a pencil into the creature’s mouth, sending him down to the ground. Another zombie marched toward him with frantic energy, but he stopped it when he slashed another sharpened pencil against the creature’s throat. A third zombie approached him, and with this one he slammed a pencil all the way through the front of his head and out the back.
“Jesus Christ,” Paul said. “I wish I had a gun about now.”
As ten more zombies appeared in the classroom, Paul jumped up on one of the many student desks and leapt toward the back of the room. He kicked his way through the back door and started rushing down an adjacent hall, where, luckily, no zombies were to be found.
“I don’t understand!” Paul said, dubious and upset, brushing all the warm yellow goo off his golf shirt. “Are these zombies really stupid enough to want to eat me? I would taste awful! I’m not alive! I’m one of the undead, too! Why can’t they sense that? Why can’t they smell that?”
He reached the end of the hallway to find a side door that led to the parking lot. To his amazement, only two zombies were pressed up against the door.
Paul could take on two of these things. Hell, he could take on ten if he needed to. He didn’t think he could take on fifty, though, and as he started pulling harder on the door handle, he turned around to see at least fifty, probably more, racing down the hallway toward him.
“Oh shit!” Paul said. He pulled harder on the door handle. It was either locked or stuck, because the door wasn’t budging.
He turned around again. The zombies were closing in on him, all with wide malicious grins on their faces, all with their arms outstretched, ready to tear through Paul’s pale flesh.
He started butting his head against the glass on the door.
“Goddammit!” Paul shouted back at the zombies. “I’m dead, too! I’m one of you! I’m not gonna taste good at all!”
Clearly they didn’t understand him, because the parade of zombies didn’t slow down; it actually increased in speed and intensity.
Paul turned back toward the glass door. He only had time for a few strong kicks, but he knew there was no other way.
He brought his right foot up and slammed it against the glass. Nothing. He kicked again, and again, and again. Finally, a crack. He kicked a fifth time, and he smiled with increasing hope when he saw the glass breaking even more.
Paul turned around. The zombies were three seconds away. Two seconds. He didn’t have a moment to lose.
He took a step back, and as the front zombie reached out for him, Paul sprinted toward the door and jumped through the glass, feeling it shatter into a thousand pieces as he landed on the pavement outside.
He didn’t have time to rest and pat himself on the back for a job well done. Not only were th
e zombies already stomping their way out the broken glass door, but the two zombies who were already outside were on top of him, biting big chunks out of his shoulders and neck.
“Owww!” Paul said. “Goddammit, get off me!”
He kicked the creatures away and stood up on his feet. He grabbed his pained neck with his hand and shook his head in agony.
“You sons of bitches! That hurt!”
A long stream of black blood flowed down his neck. The two zombies who had taken a bite out of him stood up. Instead of attacking him again, they turned to the others pouring out the broken door.
Much to Paul’s surprise, they all stopped in their tracks.
The zombies who had taken a bite out of him spit out his pale flesh.
“Ugh,” the first zombie said.
“Not… good…” the second zombie said.
The creatures all stared at him with confusion, and then immediately turned around and marched back inside the school to find tastier meat.
“See!” Paul shouted, jumping up and down. “See! I told you so! I told you I was gonna taste like shit!”
Paul turned around and ran into the parking lot. He raced toward any car he could find. He tapped on windshields, on driver’s side windows. But no living, breathing humans were found.
“Damn it.”
He turned to the street in the distance. He saw a car careening around the corner.
Paul sprinted toward the hot concrete. He waved his hands in the air. “Stop! Stop the car!”
Paul ran all the way out into the middle of the road and waited for the car to slow down. But it wouldn’t. His eyes doubled in size as he realized the car wasn’t going to stop for him.
“Stop! Slow down! Goddammit, you jerk—”
He heard a loud honk at the same time he leapt out of the way and nearly missed getting trampled by the large blue Suburban.
Paul scraped his leg against the pavement but jumped right back up to his feet. He turned to his left to see five more cars headed his direction. He knew someone was bound to stop for him.
He didn’t enter the middle of the road this time, but he still made a scene on the rocky sidewalk, waving his arms and jumping up and down.
“Please stop! Please! Anybody!”
The next car passed, then the next, then the next. He didn’t think any of these cars would stop for him. He wondered if he had ceased being visible and had in the past few hours transformed from a vampire to a ghost.
“We need help! There’s zombies! So many zombies!”
The last car slowed down, and Paul rushed forward, astonished and excited at the sight before him. He couldn’t have found a better vehicle.
Paul tapped on the driver’s side window.
“What’s all the fuss about?” the elderly man said as he rolled his window down.
“Good morning, Officer,” Paul said, out of breath. “Students at the high school are being attacked! Please call for back-up!”
“Oh my God, son!” The police officer noticed the black blood stains on Paul’s shoulders. “What the hell happened to y—”
“FOOOOOOD!” a voice yelled in the distance.
The officer turned to his left to see a group of five zombies breaking through the glass door and stepping outside. Even more disconcerting was the top half of a severed body pushing himself across the parking lot.
“Clyde?” Paul said, looking in the same direction as the officer.
“Holy mother of—” The cop grabbed his walkie-talkie and pressed a loud button. “I need back-up immediately! Unit 31! Unit 31! We’ve got a situation here at Grisly High School! I repeat, I need back-up immediately!” He pushed Paul away from him and rolled up the window. “Stay right here, son! Stay right here!”
Paul did as the man said and watched as he pulled into the parking lot and jumped out of his car, grabbing the gun from his holster. Paul stepped away from the street and crossed his arms, hoping and praying it would only take a minute or two for the back-up to arrive.
“It’s going to be OK,” he whispered to himself. “Everybody’s going to be fine.”
A car pulled up behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes focused on the bloody crime scene, his fingers pressed against the wire fence outside the parking lot. He figured a few cars would slow down behind him, rubberneckers trying to catch a glimpse of the grisly scene.
“We’re going to be all right,” Paul said.
“You’re going to burn in Hell,” a voice said behind him.
Paul though he was going to throw up. He turned around, his arms still crossed, his head feeling like it might explode from total shock.
“Dad?”
“Get in the car, Paul,” Droz said, sitting upright in a darkened hearse, his top hat on, his face white and morose.
“What are you doing here?”
Paul watched the steering wheel as twelve fingers slid around it counter-clockwise. He wasn’t in his father’s grip yet. He knew he could run. He knew he could try to escape. Again.
But he knew deep down there was nothing he could do.
“How did you find me?” Paul said.
“The Grisly Clan?” Droz said. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Dad, I’m not—”
“Get in the car right now!”
“No.”
“No?”
“Dad!”
“What?”
“Please. I think…” He sighed and bit down on his bottom lip. “I think I’m in love.”
Droz finally turned his head and locked eyes with his boy. “You think you’re in love. What, with that girl? With that human?”
“Dad, please…”
“Paul, this isn’t fucking Twilight. Listen to me closely. You’re never going to see that girl again. And you’re never, ever, going to again see… the light of day.”
Paul prepared to run, but before he could budge, five of Droz’s minions emerged from the back door and grabbed hold of him.
“Nooooooo!” He turned around and faced the school, one last time. “BRIN! BRIN! I LOVE YOU! I L—”
They shoved Paul into the back of the hearse, buried him deep into a dark coffin, and closed the lid before he had a chance to fight back.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Even though it was almost pitch black down in the spooky basement of Grisly High, Brin felt confident that she couldn’t have picked a better hiding place. Not only was it unlikely for any of the zombies to find Brin and Crispin down here, but the basement consisted of so many corridors and secret passageways that it would be easy to outrun the creatures if they had to.
Brin pulled Crispin into a tight hallway and made a right into a small room. It was mostly empty, aside from some scattered boxes and an old, broken tetherball on the ground.
“Let’s wait here,” she said.
“What? But there’s no way out!”
“There’s only one way out of this basement, Crispin,” she said, “and that’s the way we came in.”
She pulled Crispin to the back of the room and sat him down in the corner. But she didn’t sit down with him; she started exiting the tiny space.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t leave me here!”
“I’m just gonna look for a weapon.”
“What? Why? You said you’d be safe!”
“Just in case.”
“But what do I do if someone comes in here?”
“Nobody’s gonna come in here.”
“But what if they do? Please don’t leave!”
Brin walked back over to Crispin, knelt down, and shoved her hand over his mouth. “I am gonna do my best to keep you safe, Crispin, but you need to calm down, and you need to shut your mouth, you understand me? If you stay quiet, we might actually make it through this day alive. Now I’m gonna be right back. Don’t make a sound, all right? Do not make a sound.”
She jumped back up to her feet and sped around the
corner before he could try to stop her. She tiptoed down the hallway, then turned to her left. She could see the staircase and the exit door in the distance. She was happy to see that it was still sealed shut.
“OK,” she whispered. “Come on Ash… Anaya… Dylan… Paul. Somebody get help. I can’t protect this kid all by myself—”
The door burst open, revealing a figure at the top of the staircase. But she didn’t stay put long enough to find out whom it was; she leapt backward into a dank, adjacent room that was filled with old Microsoft computers. She searched the dark odorous ground for a weapon, but could only find archaic computer screens.
Brin turned to her left. She heard the footsteps reach the bottom of the staircase and start heading in her direction. She couldn’t see the figure yet, but she could discern one crucial detail: only one creature was headed her way. She wasn’t even sure it was a member of the undead—it could have been Ash or Anaya trying to find her. But she figured one of her human friends, or Paul of course, would have shouted her name by now.
When Brin heard the soft but audible moaning sounds coming from the figure around the corner, she received the confirmation that it was another one of the dreaded creatures.
“A zombie,” she whispered. “I really, really hate these goddamn zombies.”
She saw the feet first, then the hands outstretched. She saw the Dockers pants, then the brown tuft of hair on top sticking up toward the ceiling.
But she didn’t look at the face. She turned around and kneeled behind one of the giant computer screens. She held her breath and waited for the creature to pass. But he didn’t. He stopped at the turn and didn’t move.
Come on, she thought. Keep moving, asshole. Keep moving, and then I’ll be in the perfect position to smash your face in.
He continued moaning, standing close by, as if he was surveying the small museum of computer artifacts. She could feel sweat beads rolling down her forehead and cheeks. In all the terror of the moment, she hadn’t realized until now just how hot it was down in the basement.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the footsteps finally continue. The creature stepped farther down the hallway, toward the back area, toward Crispin.