[A/N: Hello everyone.
Here's a new chapter in our hilarious high school stories.
Alex is facing a difficult decision. Not that he hasn't made it before; he did it with Lily before, but now there are people watching his actions and decisions.
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At the High School, Emily's Room.
The silence felt heavy in the air, thick and full of quiet despair.
All eyes, scared and with a hint of hope, were fixed on Professor Morales. The man, middle-aged, shifted slightly on the floor, his groans barely audible, the plea in his eyes. His arm, where the zombie's bite had torn the skin, was an open wound, a grim omen that Alex knew all too well.
A silent lament echoed inside Alex. He should have done it. He should have pulled the professor away from the start, making that decision before this scene turned into a moral drama in front of a group of innocents. Now, the choice, harsh and necessary, felt like a betrayal.
"How could I explain to these young people, to Emily's friends, that compassion could be a deadly trap?" Alex wondered, looking at the pleading faces of those present.
Everyone had different reactions; most already knew what would happen to the professor, but they didn't want to accept it.
Emily, with a pale face and red eyes. Amy and George, her closest friends, supported her, their trembling hands gripping Emily's shoulders or their own mouths. They tried to whisper words of comfort, a useless hope that even they, deep down, knew didn't exist. The expressions on their faces, a mix of pain and a new understanding of the inevitable, reflected the harsh reality.
Some of the newly rescued students, those who had seen how effective Alex was against the dead, murmured drastic solutions guided by fear. The word 'head' floating like a macabre echo.
Others, clinging to the humanity they still had left, strongly opposed it, their voices trembling but firm.
The weight of all those gazes converged on Alex. He was the silent leader, the one who had shown he had the answers, the one who had brought safety. And now, they expected him to have the answer to this.
Suddenly, a voice, Emily's, broke the tense silence.
"There has to be something!" she exclaimed again, her voice broken by despair. "We can't just… We can't leave him like this!" Alex saw Amy and George, beside her, nod urgently.
They were trying to convince the others, the new faces, those who still clung to the hope of a miracle, that there was another way. But their gazes, fixed on the professor, already knew. Alex noticed it but said nothing; his silence was a heavy presence.
Then, Alex spoke.
"We can't leave him here," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, cutting the tense silence like a sharp knife. Every word was thought out, calculated not to sound cruel, but firm. "He needs attention, yes. But we can't risk the rest of the group. Not here, in this shelter."
Emily lifted her head, her eyes pleading. "But, Alex, we can't just…"
"I'm not saying we abandon him, Emily," Alex interrupted her, his gaze firm. "We're going to treat his wounds. I have antibiotics and painkillers. We'll give him everything he needs to be comfortable."
He paused, the difficult part.
"But it must be in an isolated place. A room where he can recover without putting anyone else at risk. And someone will have to stay with him, in shifts, to make sure he's okay."
A collective sigh of cautious relief swept through the room.
Alex's proposal was a thin thread of hope, a way to avoid the brutal choice looming over them. Emily looked at him, her eyes still full of anguish, but a glimmer of relief crossed her face. Although painful, it was a 'help,' a way to give meaning to Sonny's determination and not abandon humanity.
Tim nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting a grim understanding.
Marlon, though skeptical, crossed his arms and remained silent. With the silent approval of the group, Alex moved with determination.
"I need help. Tim, Marlon, come with me."
Together, very carefully, they lifted Professor Morales. The man was weak, but his eyes remained fixed on Alex, a mix of gratitude and terror.
They took him to a room near the teachers' lounge, which Alex had cleared hours before. It was a small classroom, with a single sealed window and a door that could be easily reinforced. The perfect place for isolation.
As they settled the professor in a corner, Marlon leaned towards Alex, his voice low. "Alex, how much… how much time do you think he has left? For him to… you know." He didn't use the word, but the intention was clear.
Alex sighed, opening his backpack and searching for the medical kit.
"It's impossible to know for sure, Marlon. The virus is… capricious. Not everyone reacts the same. It depends on where the bite is, how deep it is, and the person's health status. A serious wound can speed up everything. A superficial one can give more time." He explained with the authority of someone who has seen horrors, trying to keep his voice neutral. "But the infection is inevitable. And reanimation too."
As he took out the medications, his fingers brushed against something hard and cold at the bottom of his backpack: his radio.
A wave of something akin to regret and annoyance hit him. He had turned it off, as a precaution, not wanting to be found. And he never informed anyone about his status, or if he had completed this seemingly impossible mission.
He could have talked to Ron to notify him of his arrival at the high school, of his encounter with Emily, or talked to David to inquire about the situation outside the city center.
A fleeting memory of David's friend, Edwin, focused, adjusting something in the radio compartment, crossed his mind. David always thought of everything. Always.
He looked at Professor Morales, who now seemed calmer thanks to the painkillers. Then he looked at Marlon, who was watching with a serious expression. The dilemma wasn't over; it was just beginning.
10 minutes later.
The air in the room had become dense with expectation.
Emily had arrived with George to take care of the professor, or rather to watch the door of the room where he would 'recover'.
"It's time to talk to Ron," Alex thought, looking at Emily, who was watching through the glass of the room door.
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[A/N: Finally, Alex does what he should have done hours ago... Call Ron.
I can imagine how worried he was.]
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Alex took Emily to a secluded spot, seeking a moment of calm away from the panic. He picked up the radio; the familiar weight of the device in his hand was like an anchor, a small point of control in the unleashed chaos. He fought against the crackling static, a constant reminder of the world crumbling outside those walls.
Every second of silence before hearing a voice was torture, an eternity of doubt, as if everyone's fate hung by a thread.
"Ron, can you hear me? Alex here. Do you read me?"
His voice was firm, but the tension was palpable in his tone, a taut string about to snap. A few seconds of white noise, then Ron's voice, distorted but recognizable, burst through the speaker, a momentary relief.
"Alex, thank God! Are you okay? And Emily? Where are you?"
The concern was evident, a knot in Alex's stomach.
"We're at the high school, Ron. Emily's with me, she's safe for now." Alex quickly gave a concise, unembellished summary, prioritizing vital information over sentimentality. "The situation in here is a disaster. There are infected everywhere, and misinformation is causing panic. People are turning, and no one knows what to do. Outside, in the city center, it's worse. Total chaos, massive traffic jams. The percentage of zombies on the streets is gradually increasing. The police and military have withdrawn or are regrouping; there's no containment… At least not for now."
Emily, her eyes filled with fierce determination, an unstoppable spark that Alex recognized, snatched the radio from him.
"Dad! It's me, Emily! I'm fine. Listen, I've been thinking… We have to turn the school into a shelter. There are many students here, teachers… We can't leave them." Her voice, though trembling, vibrated with the passion of her idea, an almost naive conviction amidst the carnage. "We can fortify it, we have supplies, we can defend ourselves. We can save more people."
Ron's voice abruptly interrupted her, more authoritative than usual, cutting through Emily's idealism.
"Emily, listen to me. I know you want to help, but it's not sustainable. High school is a hot spot, a magnet for the dead. We don't have the resources or the people to maintain it long-term. It's too dangerous. Your mother is hysterical, honey. She just wants you to come home, safe. That's all that matters to me right now."
There was a pause, and Ron's voice softened, laden with paternal concern that struck a chord with Emily.
Alex approached, his gaze meeting Emily's, a mix of understanding and harsh reality.
"Emily, your father is partly right. We can't maintain this indefinitely. We need an exit plan. We can help secure a temporary zone for those who remain, but the priority now is your safety."
Emily recoiled, defeat coloring her face, the idealism in her gaze dimming. Alex's logical reasons, coupled with her father's concern, broke her.
"Okay, Dad," she said in a barely audible voice, surrender echoing her frustration. "But… what about the others? I can't just leave them."
"You won't leave them, honey," Ron promised, his voice trying to calm her. "Alex, help them establish a temporary safe zone. Fortify what you can so they can hold out for a few more days. Then, you, Emily, and Tim, come back. Once you're here, safe, I'll organize an operation. We'll go for the rest of the students. I promise you."
Emily nodded, her eyes filled with unshed tears, an internal battle raging. Her father's promise was a relief for her soul, but the sacrifice of her ideals was a bitter pill to swallow, a wound that would take time to heal.
As soon as they finished the call, they returned to the room where Professor Morales had been isolated. George, Marlon, and Tim were guarding the door.
The tension in the air grew thicker.
The professor was worse. His groans were now painful whimpers, his breathing a series of spasmodic gasps. His skin was now pale, much more than before.
Marlon, with a serious expression that belied his youth, turned to Alex. "Come on, Alex. We have to keep clearing."
Alex nodded.
"George, Emily, stay with him. Tim, go rest in the main hall. I'll need you to cover my watch shift later."
As Tim left, Alex and Marlon ventured into the hallways, their movements fluid and coordinated.
Silence was their ally, their footsteps barely audible as they cleared the way to the stairs leading to the cafeteria.
Zombie bodies piled up in some spots, and small groups of wanderers roamed aimlessly. Each encounter was quick, brutal, and silent, Alex's knife and Marlon's improvised bat acting with macabre efficiency.
As they approached the cafeteria, the sounds became clearer.
Not just the familiar groans and shuffles, but something more: distant thuds, the scraping of furniture, and what sounded like muffled screams, followed by guttural gasps.
The cafeteria, with its large windows and multiple entrances, was a nest of danger.
Alex and Marlon stopped, exhaustion weighing on their bodies. The threat was greater than they expected.
"Too much risk for now," Alex whispered. "Let's go back. We need to consolidate what we have and rest."
On the way back, they decided to make a quick foray into nearby classrooms, looking for any useful supplies. It was a fruitful search. They found packages of crackers, water bottles, energy drinks, and some cans of non-perishable food.
Alex filled his backpack with the essentials, and the rest they improvised into sacks made from curtains and clothing, dragging them carefully.
As they approached the room where they had left Professor Morales, a chill ran down Alex's spine.
The door was slightly ajar. A knot of terror tightened in his stomach. There was no trace of George or Emily.
Alex signaled Marlon to stay back, hidden, and in complete silence. He took off his backpack, letting it fall gently to the floor, and moved forward with speed and stealth that only survival instinct could grant. His knife gleamed with the reflection of the hallway light.
He slipped carefully through the door.
The scene that unfolded before his eyes was a devastating blow. Emily had her back on him, paralyzed by terror, her eyes wide and fixed on the figure lunging at her.
It was Professor Morales, now completely transformed. His eyes were glassy, his skin grayish, and his movements were clumsy and unnatural. A guttural growl escaped his throat as he extended his hands towards Emily.
There was no time to think. Only to act immediately.
Alex put his left arm in the path of the bite. He felt the brutal impact, the tearing of the fabric, the sharp pain, but the adrenaline suppressed it, turning it into a distant hum.
With the same speed, his knife plunged into the zombie's skull, a wet, final sound echoing in the room. The professor's lifeless body collapsed at Emily's feet.
Alex turned. His gaze fixed on Emily.
The young woman's face, previously marked by terror, was now disfigured by a mix of horror, guilt, and tears. Her eyes, fixed on Alex's bitten arm, reflected overwhelming concern, an anguish that would have moved him in any other circumstance.
But not now.
Alex's gaze towards Emily was not one of compassion, but of cold, contained anger, a fury born of her devastating recklessness and the consequences that now he, Alex, would have to face.
The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by Emily's muffled sobs and Alex's ragged, painful breathing.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Thanks everyone for reading.
I hope you enjoyed it.
Here's a new dilemma for Alex, and we also don't know what will happen to him after the bite.
Will he become a zombie? Or will he mutate into a demigod with grandeur complexes?
By the way, I want to remind you that the spin-offs are still publishing chapters. They're really good, or so my mom says.
Hahaha, that's a lie. No one in my family has read my work. Hahaha.
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Read my other novels.
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time (Chapter 68)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 17)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 3)
You can find them on my profile.]