[A/N: Hello everyone.
Another tense episode.
Alex witnesses the chaos inside the high school.
Comment, donate power stones, donate organs, and maybe write a poem.]
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Outside the high school.
Alex chose to flank the building. He moved stealthily along the opposite sidewalk, staying hidden in the shadows, using abandoned cars and dumpsters for cover.
The air felt heavier here, away from the military gunfire, but closer to the moans and shuffles that indicated the presence of wandering zombies.
As he reached the side of the building, he noticed a small service door, barely visible in the gloom, which presumably led to the boiler room or maintenance area.
No military personnel were guarding it, but two zombies shambled nearby, drawn by some distant sound. They were a man and a woman, their civilian clothes torn, their movements slow and erratic.
Alex drew his combat knife. Using his pistol was not viable; the noise would alert both the military and more zombies. He approached stealthily; his footsteps barely audible on the asphalt.
The male individual was the first to perceive his proximity, turning his head with a nauseating crunch.
Alex did not hesitate.
A swift and precise blow to the temple, and the zombie collapsed. The female, slower, was barely beginning to turn when a second blow brought her down.
Once both zombies were neutralized, Alex knelt by the service door. It was secured with a rusted padlock.
He pulled a compact lock-picking kit from his backpack that David had insisted he carry. His fingers, though tense, worked with astonishing dexterity. A soft click, then another, and the lock yielded with a metallic snap.
He opened the door just a narrow crack, poking his head in to inspect the interior.
The gloom was practically absolute, barely interrupted by a faint luminescence that seeped from a deeper part of the building. The air felt heavy, with a scent of dampness and something else, something frankly putrid. A distant moan confirmed he was not alone.
This represented the point of no return.
He entered the educational institution, carefully securing the door behind him.
The gloom enveloped him completely, and the silence, broken only by the pulse of his own heart and the distant echoes of horror, became palpable.
The corridor stretched like an intricate labyrinth of shadows.
Alex progressed with extreme caution, his boots lightly brushing against what appeared to be scattered documents and tiny debris.
The stench of fear and hemoglobin intensified in this interior.
The access to the classrooms remained closed, some slightly ajar, revealing the remaining disorder: overturned chairs, scattered volumes, abandoned backpacks. It constituted the evidence of a desperate escape.
From inside the closed classrooms, whispers and laments were perceived. Alex tried to open the entrance, but it was blocked from the inside.
"Would it be prudent to force entry?" Alex questioned himself, evaluating the alternative.
The proposal did not seem appropriate to him, since, if he persisted with the same method of action, he would be forced to inspect all the sealed classrooms, consuming valuable time. Even his own safety could be compromised.
Precisely as he was about to knock on the door, he heard a slow, heavy shuffle to his left flank.
He pressed himself against the wall, his knife ready.
An zombie, a student dressed in sports attire was shuffling down the corridor, uttering a low moan.
Alex waited for the opportune moment, moved swiftly, and, with a fluid motion, plunged the knife into the base of the zombie's skull. It fell without a sound, adding another corpse to the nocturnal silence.
After eliminating the zombies, Alex felt perplexed, but not because of the situation inside the high school, but because of the strategy to locate Emily in the shortest possible time.
Ron had only indicated the location of the educational center, without providing further details.
"Ron alluded to an event at the high school," Alex recalled, constantly looking around him. "During my student days, events were held in the gym," Alex deduced, based on his own experience.
The gym stood as the most plausible site to find Emily or, at least, clues to her whereabouts.
The route was infested with risks.
At a corridor intersection, he discovered a pile of overturned desks, a makeshift barrier that proved ineffective. Beyond it lay the bodies of two zombies, and further on, the fresh blood trail indicating a recent struggle.
The internal noises became clearer as he approached the core of the building: moans, growls, and occasionally, the echo of a muffled scream.
The educational institution was teeming with horror.
As he passed a classroom with a shattered entrance, he observed a group of zombies devouring what appeared to be a teacher's corpse. Alex's stomach churned, but he forced himself to maintain concentration. He could not afford the luxury of revulsion.
Finally, he reached the access to the gym.
The double doors were completely open, exposing a scene of devastation.
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[A/N: This is what the gym looked like after the chaos. If you want to know more, read the spin-off of this novel called: The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis]
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The usual gym lights, some flickering, cast oscillating shadows on the floor. Bodies were scattered, some of the students, others of staff, and even one dressed in military uniform, and various zombie shuffled among them, searching for more flesh or simply wandering aimlessly. The fetid smell of blood was overwhelming. Alex also detected a fragrance he had recently grown accustomed to gunpowder.
Alex stopped at the threshold, his gaze scanning the immense enclosure.
He searched for traces of Emily among the bodies scattered on the floor and the shambling zombie, fervently hoping not to find her among them. To his relief, none of the corpses that still retained recognizable features, nor the zombies, corresponded to Emily. Nor did he spot any adult wearing unusual clothing.
"If Ron sent two individuals to protect her, they would have to wear the clothes that David and I had specified," Alex reflected, intermittently covering his nose. Although he had previously confronted the zombie, the stench of so many corpses and zombies was unbearable for his sense of smell.
His gaze continued to explore every corner of the gym.
Suddenly, he noticed the doors, of what appeared to be a storage room, closed. He had a feeling they might be taking shelter there but crossing through that crowd of zombies would be suicide.
"Alright… Here we go," Alex encouraged himself.
He moved swiftly, dodging the zombie and the corpses. He used the intervals of gloom between the gym lights to advance quickly.
He was aware that the zombie might soon detect him, and if not, his scent would soon betray him, but he had to make this effort.
Suddenly, he reached the storage room doors, but they were locked from the inside. Some voices were heard, but he couldn't recognize any familiar ones.
Alex longed to knock on the door to attract the attention of the people inside, but if he did, he would also attract the attention of the surrounding zombies.
Precisely as he was about to knock on the door anyway, he noticed footprints imprinted in the blood outside the door. Ordinary footprints would not have caught his attention, but these were very similar to those left by his boots.
Additionally, he observed that one of the corpses near the storage door had a stab wound to the temple. This action would only be carried out by individuals who knew how to deal with the zombie. If it were a soldier, he would surely have fired.
"They could be the individuals Ron sent," Alex reflected with a spark of hope.
He tried to examine the footprints to determine if they continued inside. Alex noticed that there were two pairs of similar footprints.
One of them, clearly responsible for the nearby zombie, had entered the storage room. But then both pairs of footprints headed towards the back section of the gym, and even more pairs of footprints followed the same trajectory.
Alex continued to follow the tracks with renewed hope. However, halfway there, they began to fade, but by following the direction the tracks were going, an emergency exit door could be seen.
Alex hurried to that point while continuing to evade the zombies and trying not to attract their attention.
When he reached the entrance, it was ajar and a little further on lay the corpse of a zombie on the ground.
Alex knelt to examine the corpse, and noticed a similar stab wound to the zombie's head.
"They must have escaped this way. It seems I will find them soon…" Alex was thinking with excitement until he saw something that chilled him to the bone.
He noticed that a piece of skin torn from another person protruded from the zombie's mouth. Additionally, following the trajectory of this emergency exit, he could discern an uninterrupted blood trail that extended to the main building, further from the gym.
"This zombie must have attacked one of Ron's men," Alex mused with discouragement.
The blood trail, now more concentrated, extended down a side corridor, moving away from the gym and heading towards the main area of the high school.
Alex pursued it, his heart pounding with a mixture of urgency and apprehension.
The corridor was darker, illuminated only by the conventional lights that flickered sporadically, and a more oppressive silence, broken only by the distant gunshots that echoed from time to time and the resonance of his own footsteps.
The blood trail led him to a set of stairs.
Upon approaching, Alex noticed that access to the upper level was blocked by a makeshift, but sturdy, barricade: stacked desks, overturned cabinets tied with ropes, forming a considerable barrier. It was not a chaotic escape, but a conscious effort to fortify a position.
"Survivors are gathering here," Alex reflected, with a spark of comfort tempered with caution.
However, the blood trail did not end at the barricade leading up the stairs. It continued down the first-floor corridor, moving away from the fortified stairs, in a direction Alex had not explored. The injured individual had not gone up but had moved away to the same level.
Alex did not try to force the barricade or climb the stairs. His objective was Emily, and the blood trail was his only reliable guide at that moment.
He moved, following the trail that became more profuse, forming dark puddles on the floor of that more secluded and silent corridor.
Finally, turning a corner in a forgotten part of the high school, Alex saw it.
A body. It wasn't a zombie. It was a man, lying face down, with a pistol similar to those used by Ron's men, fallen from his hand. The clothing, though stained with blood, corresponded to the discreet attire Ron supplied to his personnel for operations, in accordance with Alex's and David's suggestions.
Alex approached slowly, his breath barely perceptible. He knelt and gently turned the body.
It was Sonny.
Sonny's face, though pale and lifeless, was unmistakable. Alex had seen him many times in meetings with Ron, discussing plans for acquiring weapons from the Drugos or storing medicines.
They had shared the tension of those operations; the camaraderie forged in risk. And now, Sonny was here, on a school floor, with a grotesque, deep bite between his neck and shoulder.
A knot tightened in Alex's throat, more intensely than before. The image of Ron, distraught over his daughter, and David's words about the sacrifice of Ron's men, took on a brutal meaning.
Sonny had been the first to fall, the one who had covered the retreat of Emily and Ron's other companion. His sacrifice was palpable in the stillness of that corner.
"Damn it, Sonny…" Alex whispered, his voice hoarse.
He closed his eyes for an instant, feeling the weight of the loss. Another good man fallen, victim of a threat most still didn't understand. Guilt washed over him, a cold wave.
He had seen this coming thanks to his visions, he had tried to prepare, but he couldn't prevent the world from crumbling so quickly, nor men like Sonny from paying the price.
He stood there for a moment, processing the pain and the raw reality. The mission was not just a rescue; it was debt.
A debt to Ron, to Emily, and now, to Sonny's memory.
As he stood up, with the weight loss on his shoulders, a faint sound alerted him. A shuffle, softer than a typical zombie's, followed by a gasp. Alex turned, his knife ready.
In the gloom of the corridor, a figure staggered. It was a young woman, her school clothes dirty and torn. Her right arm held her other arm, and on it, just above the elbow, a fresh, bleeding, deep bite mark was visible.
The young woman looked at him, her eyes full of pain and confusion, with no trace of transformation. Her breathing was shallow and quickened by fear.
"Help me, please," the young woman pleaded in a trembling voice.
"Emily?"
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Thanks everyone for reading.
I hope you enjoyed it.
One more chapter for our beloved Alex, who realizes that one of Ron's men was one of the ones who accompanied him that night to buy weapons.
He still hasn't found Emily, and we don't know how long ago Sonny died. Or maybe only those who have read the spin-off of this novel called: (I won't post it, it's already too much spam) know.
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Read my other novels
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time.
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis from Visions of Future Saga
You can find them on my profile.]