In the high school, near the stairs.
"Alex! Alex!", an alarmed voice from the radio pulled Alex out of his stupor. His internal conflicts regarding his parents had made him stay still, and he wasn't reacting to any stimulus.
"I'm here, David… I just remembered something important," Alex said to him in a dull tone, a product of his guilt.
"As I was saying. We will continue to improve the base in the industrial zone. If you decide to come and stay, you'll always be welcome. We also need your insight on shelters. You always know where the weaknesses of each base are," David commented.
"I'll think about it, but first I have to check if the people I helped are okay… David, you need to be careful," Alex warned him with a worried tone.
"You too, Alex. Good luck escaping the city center," David said, signing off.
After ending the call with David, Alex returned with Tim to the stairs. The silence between them was functional, but it was not comfortable. It was a heavy silence, loaded with unspoken things: Tim's failure with Emily, the difficult decisions they had to make.
They worked together, shoulder to shoulder, but avoided each other's gaze. Together, they made sure the desks and shelves were properly placed, reinforcing the access to the cafeteria stairs with one final push. It was a brief, silent, but vital job for their safety.
As they walked down the hallway back to Emily's classroom, Alex broke the silence.
"The school isn't going to hold, Tim. Not long term. It's too exposed. Its central location is a problem, not an advantage… While it might serve for a few weeks, it won't withstand the hordes that will form in the future," Alex told Tim, slowing his pace to talk with him.
"Hordes? Do you mean a huge number of zombies together?" he asked.
"That's right," Alex confirmed with a somber tone.
"Is that possible?" Tim asked again. A shiver ran down his spine.
"Unfortunately, yes. You saw what just a few hours of exposure to the zombies can do. Now imagine a few days."
Tim nodded somberly, without saying a word. An almost imperceptible tremor in his hands betrayed the magnitude of his understanding. He too had seen the way the zombies seemed to emerge from every corner the previous afternoon, the chaos. He knew that Emily's idea of permanent shelter was an unviable dream.
"We have to get Emily out," Alex continued, his voice low and urgent. "And we can take a few more. Five, maybe six people at most, besides the two of us. Any more than that, and we'll become too big of a target. It's the only way we have a real chance."
"What about the others? Will you prepare the shelter for them like you told Ron?" Tim asked, the moral dilemma evident in his eyes.
"Yes, I'll do my best… We'll do our best. I don't want to live with that burden on my mind either."
The decision was brutal, an imposition of reality over morality. The rest would have to stay.
Before reaching the classroom, Alex remembered something important.
Just as he forgot to call David, he had also forgotten to call the people who were now staying at the house in the city's northeast zone. Gerry and the others didn't know what had happened to him, and Alex didn't know if they were safe either. Alex signaled for Tim to go ahead, while Alex turned on the radio and adjusted the frequency to call the house.
"Alice, Gerry, Joel. Are you there? This is Alex. Do you copy?"
After a few seconds of static, a middle-aged voice, with a tone of authority and experience, answered: "Alex, yes, I read you. We're very happy to hear from you. We're all fine. How are things there?"
"The situation is very chaotic, Gerry," Alex replied, identifying the man by his voice. "The military seems to have regrouped or dispersed; there is no effective containment. The number of walkers is progressively growing in the center… But you guys are okay, right?"
"For now, yes. The neighborhood is generally quiet, but we've heard some isolated screams and gunshots. It's a strange feeling, like a superficial calm with chaos underneath," he commented.
"Listen, Gerry," Alex said, his voice becoming serious and urgent. "You have experience, you know the streets are a trap. You need to clear them from time to time. Don't let cars get stuck and become barricades of the dead. Move them to the sides and check the surrounding houses to see if they are abandoned. Use what you need to keep your family, and the others, safe. And stay vigilant."
"Understood, Alex. We will. And thank you. Really. I don't know what would have become of us if you hadn't shown up," Gerry responded with a grateful tone.
"By the way, warn the others about the situation. If they decide to leave, don't stop them. Just do your best to ensure they go prepared," Alex recommended, knowing that in the first hours people would not have a clear perception of the magnitude of the danger.
"I understand, Alex. I'll do my best to get them to stay. Madison and Alice want to stay until everything calms down. Travis wants to go to the military camp. Joel is waiting for Sarah to recover, and it's the same with Daniel, he will wait for Griselda to recover," Gerry commented. "Everyone thanks you for the help."
"We're in this together, Gerry. Don't hesitate to use whatever you need from the house. Everything is at your disposal," Alex responded, and he cut the call.
He felt a little calmer, letting out a long, deep sigh. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, temporarily. He was not alone. He had a network, however small.
He returned to Emily's classroom, ready to rest. In the room, most of the students were asleep, exhausted, but a couple of them, with tired eyes, were standing guard.
Alex thanked them with a nod and lay down in a corner, with his backpack serving as a pillow. The fatigue was evident. His feet felt heavy, and his eyes seemed irritated. But his mind wouldn't stop processing the endless tasks and dangers ahead.
A few hours later.
The classroom was in total darkness and absolute silence. Alex woke up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest.
He had woken up in an unknown place.
For a moment, he didn't know if he was awake or dreaming, if it was one of his visions. But the feeling of freedom of movement and the perception of his surroundings brought him back to reality. He was in high school, but something was different. The air was colder, the sounds strange.
The night was over.
A damp cold seeped through the broken windows, and the linoleum floor seemed colder than he remembered.
The smell of dust and decay was present. The distant echo of a gunshot that made his muscles tense brought him back to the harsh reality.
He is in high school.
He sat up abruptly, his hand instinctively searching for the knife resting on the floor beside him.
The faint glow of dawn seeping through the windows, and the sight of the students sleeping on the floor, made him relax his grip. He had slept for a little over three hours, a brief but blessed rest. He was still tired, but it was enough.
The murmurs around him made him look up.
The students who were awake were standing guard, but with a difference.
Instead of staring fixedly at the hallway, their eyes were glued to the screens of their cell phones. Their pale, fear-filled faces were illuminated by the glow of their phones, a window into the horror that stretched beyond the school walls.
Those with a weak signal passed their cell phones from one to another, watching fragments of videos: an overturned car burning in the foreground, chaos on a main street seen from a drone, a news report that abruptly cut off while a reporter screamed. Now they knew what Alex knew. The fall was global.
"I hope they can adapt soon. Only then will they be able to survive," Alex thought, the contrast between his coldness and the fear on their faces marking the distance that had grown between them.
Alex stretched and headed for Emily. She was still asleep, her face at peace for the moment, an oasis of calm in the midst of the storm. Just as he was about to wake her, George, with a sunken face and bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep, approached Alex.
"The networks came back about an hour ago," he said in a hoarse voice. "The ones who were awake started watching the videos... they found out everything that's happening in the world. The chaos... the out of control... the government trying to hide it." George's tone was loaded with frustration and helplessness that Alex understood perfectly, but there was also a hint of resignation.
"When they saw that, some got scared and decided to escape. Tim and I tried to hold them back, but they wouldn't listen," George continued, his gaze lowered. His voice cracked slightly, an echo of defeat.
"It's okay, George, it's not your fault," Alex said, trying to calm him. A knot formed in his stomach at the thought that those people, for the most part, were now walking dead.
"There was no way to stop them," George said, his voice a resigned lament. "Tim and I took them to the main entrance so they would be safe on the way out, but we couldn't help them get any farther."
"And, on top of that," George added, his voice becoming strangely cold. "During Louis's shift, they let some classmates who were escaping their buildings during the early morning in."
The information hit Alex. His face tensed with alarm.
He frantically looked around the room, searching for new faces, expecting an imminent crisis. The danger of undetected bitten people was too great.
George, noticing Alex's reaction, hurried to explain.
"We checked each person carefully," he said, a thread of somber pride in his voice. He touched his neck with one hand, a palpable discomfort. "The ones who were bitten, we left them in isolated rooms, in the same area as the teacher, with the doors blocked."
"Whew… That's a relief," Alex said with an exaggerated sigh, but his soul was on a thread.
"Some have already turned and Tim, Louis, Marlon, and I got rid of them. We left the others there, waiting for them to turn," he said with some discomfort, looking away.
Alex was amazed at how quickly these young people had assimilated the rules of the new world. Their innocence had been broken, but they had replaced it with the pragmatic need to survive.
"I congratulate you for your compassion. Others would have abandoned them. You gave them a more peaceful end," Alex said. He wondered how long this morality would last, if it was a luxury that he, as a leader, could afford, or if it would be the first trait he would have to sacrifice.
"We just did what you did with the teacher before. Although now we wouldn't make the same mistake as Emily," he said with a playful tone, trying to lighten the mood.
Alex laughed at the joke, but in his mind, Alex reflected on how, despite the brutality of the situation, there was still a trace of humanity in the group.
Alex and George headed to the stairs that connected to the cafeteria, where they found Tim and Marlon. Tim informed them of what they had seen: teachers and students in other nearby buildings, signaling.
"They need help. We have to get them out of there," said Marlon, determination etched on his face.
Alex nodded. He looked at the surroundings, now illuminated by the first rays of the Sun. His eyes scanned the courtyard, calculating distances, identifying the staggering figures and possible entry and exit points. He noticed that there were many fewer than the previous afternoon, which gave them an opportunity.
"Yes. But first we have to clear the courtyard. If we don't, it will be a death trap for them and for us. Clearing the courtyard will allow us to help them with less risk," Alex commented after his analysis.
Alex's decision was pragmatic and tactical.
"Let's leave the high-density buildings, like the library, the cafeteria, and the gym, for later. Now, we have to focus on an achievable goal," Alex added, noticing that everyone was nodding.
It was clear that the group was ready to move.
In the high school courtyard, 10 minutes later.
The morning sun reflected off the broken glass and cast long shadows over the courtyard, illuminating the chaos the previous afternoon had left behind.
Debris, scattered papers, and shattered gardens filled the space.
The air was heavy, a mix of dust, humidity, and the metallic smell of dried blood.
Alex and the others moved cautiously along the edge of the courtyard, their eyes scrutinizing every corner.
He was at the front, his survival knife firmly gripped, reflecting the faint morning light. Behind him, Tim, with a similar knife, imitated his movements, a mix of determination and fear on his face. George, with the emergency axe from the building, moved awkwardly under its weight, and Marlon, with an improvised spear, followed behind.
The zombies, scattered around the courtyard, moved aimlessly, attracted by the morning silence and the sounds of the city.
The first attack was quick and lethal.
Alex slid behind a zombie staggering near a broken fountain and, with a precise movement, plunged the knife into the base of its skull. The creature collapsed without a sound.
Marlon, seeing Alex's movement, filled with courage and attacked another nearby zombie, but his spear slipped. The zombie turned, and Marlon had to retreat. Tim, who had seen George's difficulty, turned his head, looking at him with a silent reprimand.
George, with the axe in his hands, faced a zombie staggering through the center of the courtyard. The axe was too heavy, but the adrenaline gave him the strength needed to land a blow. The axe sank into the creature's chest, but it didn't kill it. George struggled in a panic to pull the axe out, the handle slippery with sweat, as the zombie staggered dangerously close.
A moment of tension arose when three zombies appeared from a corner of the courtyard, heading toward George and Marlon. George's axe was trapped, and Marlon's spear barely kept his opponent at bay.
Alex reacted instantly.
"Tim, to my right! George, drop the axe!" he shouted in a hoarse, urgent voice.
Tim turned to face the new zombies, while Alex ran toward George. Alex used his knife to kill the three zombies heading for him, then ran to George and helped him pull out the axe. Tim, for his part, faced Marlon and helped him kill the zombie that was heading for him.
The fight continued for a while longer.
Alex, Tim, George, and Marlon moved together, like a newly formed team.
The zombies fell one after another under the group's coordination. Alex led the attack, Tim followed closely, and George and Marlon took care of those who got too close. The tension was constant, but the team moved fluidly. George's axe moved with more force, and Marlon's spear was more accurate.
Finally, the courtyard was silent.
The four of them stood, exhausted, their bodies covered in blood and sweat, their ragged breathing filling the air.
They looked around. The courtyard, once full of zombies, was now a graveyard of the dead. Alex looked at George and Marlon. Their faces were pale and their eyes full of fear, but there was also a spark of hope in them. They had adapted; they had come together as a team.
Alex smiled, a little, feeling a mix of pride, relief, and the brutal realization that they had become stronger by losing their innocence. It was about them. Their small, broken group, which had just been born in a graveyard of the dead.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
I hope you liked the chapter. Because I liked it quite a bit. Not only does it mix general information about the groups he meets, but there's also some action and reflection.
By the way, it's not that Alex doesn't care about his parents, but I don't want to write more reflective chapters, which are precisely the ones they don't usually like.
We'll learn about them later, and Alex will have time to feel guilty.
On the other hand, I hope you liked the action sequence at the end. I wrote a lot of the encounter in that courtyard, but it felt repetitive. So, I opted for that initial confrontation and skipped to the end of the fight.
What did you think of the chapter?
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Read my other novels
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time. (Chapter 72)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 19)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 5)
You can find them on my profile.]