Ten minutes before they reached the cafeteria, the hallway had become a war zone.
Alex's group worked in silence, moving heavy furniture. They dragged desks, flipped tables, and stacked chairs. The screech of metal against linoleum and the dull thud of wood echoed down the hall—a grim symphony of desperation. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, the urgency of their labor etched into every movement, but Alex moved with a calm that steadied the group.
His mind, in contrast, was a whirlwind of calculations. This wasn't a plan to clear a room; it was a fallback strategy, a last line of defense in case everything went wrong in the cafeteria.
"Move that to the left," Alex ordered, his voice so low it was barely a whisper. "If the door gets overrun, we need a path to run."
The group followed his instructions in silence, their faces tense, but their eyes fixed on Alex's back. The urgency was clear.
As they moved a shelf, a figure approached. It was Sophie, one of Emily's companions. She carried a few sports mats, clumsily modified with duct tape and scraps of wood tied on as handles. Her hands trembled, but in her eyes was an unbreakable resolve, a spark that defied her own fear.
"F-for shields," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "They're not great, but they might work."
Alex took one of the "shields" and inspected it. It wasn't much, but it was something. The group had started thinking tactically on their own. Alex gave a tight smile and handed it to Tim to distribute among the team that would fall back in a retreat.
The moment of truth was approaching. Alex looked at each of them, from the pale faces of the teachers to the determined eyes of Marlon, Louis, and George. It was a strange mix of ordinary people, united by a need to survive. He addressed them in a serious tone: "We're ready. Let's open the door."
At the cafeteria entrance, the tension was a palpable weight. Alex stopped in front of the door. The plan was simple: open it slowly, slip inside, and use the interior to take them out as a group. If there were too many or something went wrong, they would fall back and barricade the doors. They'd let a few zombies out and kill them. Repeat until the cafeteria was clear.
Tim, Marlon, and George positioned themselves with their shields and spears, ready for battle. Alex motioned to Tim, who opened the door for him. But the plan didn't get far. The door's hinge, which should have been new and silent, shrieked with a sharp, high-pitched sound. A horrible sound. A sound that screamed into the stillness.
The reaction was immediate and bone-chilling. From the crack that had opened, a chorus of growls was heard—not two, not a dozen, but hundreds. The stench of rotting flesh and dampness hit their lungs, an odor so heavy they could almost taste it. Hundreds of heads turned, moving in a horrifying synchronicity. Hundreds of pairs of cloudy eyes and slobbering mouths fixed on the door.
Alex froze, the sight stealing his breath, and the nauseating smell hit him again. The plan had died with the shriek of the door.
"Everyone to the barricade!" he yelled, his voice ragged with fear and panic. "Now!"
His voice, though full of authority, was tinged with fear. This was a horde, a tide of death, and their 'phalanx' would be useless. The plan had changed. They would follow the fallback plan. They'd kill the ones they let out, then block it, and only allow a few to exit so they could be safely disposed of. But first, they had to deal with the closest ones to buy time to prepare.
Alex moved to the front of the group, his survival knife held tight, his free hand ready for the pistol. Beside him, Tim moved with a silent determination, his knife also prepared. Behind them, a group of brave students with improvised spears moved in unison, united by terror and the need to survive.
"One at a time," Alex whispered, his voice hoarse with tension. "Hold the line."
The first zombie stumbled toward him. Alex slid to the side and plunged the knife into the base of its skull. The creature collapsed without a sound. Alex's mind went cold, his movements automatic.
Tim took care of the second, his hand now firmer and surer. The teacher, who wanted to shoot the third approaching zombie, was stopped by Tim. George and Marlon, who had faced a couple of zombies at their side, killed them with an axe and a spear, respectively.
The group advanced, each of them eliminating one or two zombies. Alex noticed that the group that had participated in the clearing of the buildings did much better than the new ones, their movements were more fluid and precise, as if the previous clearing had been a training session.
Alex made a mental note of them. The teacher also performed quite well. But not everyone did well. Some of the new students stumbled, their spears wobbled, and fear was visible on their faces. Alex took care of them, killing their zombies and telling them to fall back.
Just when it seemed like they were controlling the situation, from the back of the cafeteria, a new group of zombies appeared, looking as if they had been searching for something in the rear area.
Looking at his group, he noticed the panic and exhaustion in their eyes. He knew they couldn't keep going. They had spent two hours working before and only after a short break decided to continue with the cafeteria due to a lack of food. Alex knew they were tired and couldn't risk facing this new threat.
"Let's follow the fallback plan! Get out of here!" Alex shouted. His voice echoed in the cafeteria, and the group reacted instantly. They all turned and headed for the door.
"Quick! Block the door!" Alex yelled when he saw everyone had gotten out. "Now!"
The door slammed shut, and the entire group leaned against it, their bodies trembling from the effort. The thumps of the zombies came a few seconds later. They resonated through the door.
The dull thump, thump, thump of zombie bodies hitting the cafeteria door was the only sound nearby. It was a macabre, relentless rhythm that they could feel in their bones. The horde's stench clung to their clothes; a mix of rotting flesh and dampness that made their nostrils burn.
Alex stood at the front, the knife in one hand and the pistol in the other, his body tense, ready to react. Around him, the students with the makeshift spears and shields moved nervously, their faces pale in the dim morning light.
"Get ready!" Alex whispered, his voice taut but firm. "Let a small group out."
The first impact of the horde's push was sudden and brutal. The students holding the door—a group of four or five people—backed up a couple of steps, cold sweat running down their foreheads. The door opened slightly, a sharp squeal that made everyone tremble.
Three zombies peered through the gap; their dead eyes fixed on those in front of them. Alex moved quickly.
"George, Marlon, Louis! Three of you, now!" Alex ordered.
Four students with homemade spears, with George, Marlon, and Louis leading the way, lunged forward. With a coordinated motion, they plunged the tips of their spears into the zombies' chests. Not to kill them, but to contain them. With a concerted effort, they dragged them away from the door, creating a safe space. The rest of the containment group at the door readjusted, and the door closed almost completely.
The three zombies struggled, their arms outstretched, but the spears held them at bay. Marlon and Louis took care of them, stabbing their heads with their spears, and George did it with his axe. The act was brutal and realistic, a clear reflection of the new reality. Once the zombies fell, they returned to the front line, their breaths ragged and their faces filled with a grim determination. They had survived.
"Well done!" Alex whispered, a satisfied smile on his face. "Now, let's get some more!"
This time, the containment group moved with more confidence. A couple of them pushed the door, and an avalanche of six zombies came out through the gap. The students with the spears moved as one body, containing the zombies and taking them away from the line. George and Marlon took care of those who got too close, and Louis moved with speed and precision, stabbing the stumbling zombies. In a matter of seconds, the six zombies fell.
Alex, as he watched them, thought about the future. The zombies inside the cafeteria weren't smart, but there were many of them. The only way to win was through tactics and teamwork. Now, the students were becoming soldiers. They were adapting.
"But how long could they hold on?" he wondered. The visions hadn't shown him a very distant future. Just a few weeks ahead.
The thump, thump, thump of the zombies against the cafeteria door had become a terrifying cadence, indicating that most of the zombies had reached the door. Sweat dripped down the foreheads of the students holding the makeshift shields, their arms trembling under the pressure. Alex watched the scene with a shiver of alarm.
There were eleven who had come out this time, an avalanche that surpassed their containment capacity. As he shouted orders, his eyes fell on one of the students at the door, a boy with a pale face and glassy eyes, fear reflected in his pupils. The shield in his hand trembled, and his posture was that of a man about to collapse. In that boy's face, Alex saw the fear that could ruin everything, a fear that could open the door and let the horde out.
Without a second thought, Alex lunged forward, grabbed one of the homemade shields, and joined the containment group. The impact of the bodies against the shield vibrated through his arms. The stench of rotting flesh was overwhelming.
With his voice, which now sounded like a roar, he gave clear and concise orders: "Front! Now! Hold the line! Don't let them through!" The students who heard him moved in unison, and with new energy, they took care of the eleven zombies that had come out.
Alex, who still had his knife in hand, took care of a couple of them, and Tim dealt with those at risk of being bitten, killing the zombies with his knife. The scene was chaotic, brutal, but they were winning.
But the victory was only temporary. Alex felt the constant pressure of the horde on the door. The zombies were an enemy that didn't get tired. As their attackers weakened, the horde strengthened, and the push became stronger and stronger. His eyes scanned the cafeteria, and one thought settled in his mind: distraction. He had to take the pressure off the door. He had to lure the horde away.
Looking back at Tim, who was in the rear, his face dirty, he shouted: "Tim, I'm going! You're in charge!"
Without waiting for a response, Alex ran toward one of the distant cafeteria windows. The sunlight that filtered into the room broke into a pattern of shadows and mirages on the floor. Alex threw a rock, shattering the glass with a thunderous noise that echoed in the surroundings.
Alex peered through the hole and began to shout with all his might. The sound of his voice, as loud as he could make it, a scream that was lost in the stale air. From the back of the cafeteria, the movement of the zombies ceased. Then, one, two, three, they turned. A deathly silence took over the place. In a matter of seconds, a group of about 15 zombies headed toward him, their clumsy steps echoing in the silence.
The smell of decaying flesh, which had previously been just a whiff, now completely enveloped him, dense and nauseating. He stayed close to the window, the survival knife in his hand, the pistol ready to be used. The midday light filtered through the windows, casting long, dark shadows over the mess of overturned tables, trays, and food on the floor.
His mind, making a tactical map of the place, analyzed the zombies' position. There were many, but not all of them were moving toward him. He moved with caution, his eyes scanning the front row, the slobbering mouths, and the dead eyes.
He advanced, the knife in his hand. The first zombie stumbled toward him. With a quick and precise movement, Alex slid to the side and plunged the knife into its skull. The creature collapsed with a thud. The second and third, attracted by the dull noise, headed toward him. Alex got rid of them quickly, feeling a pang of confidence. It was easy.
But the confidence vanished as soon as it had arrived. The zombies from the back, who had been looking for something in the rear area, joined the horde, and now, instead of a dozen zombies, there were more than 20 of them. Alex backed away, his mind racing. If he stayed, they would overwhelm him. He had to use the terrain to his advantage.
He charged, moving with agility, leaping over an overturned table, using the tables as obstacles. The zombies, slow and clumsy, stumbled over the obstacles, and Alex used them to divide them. It was a dance, a dance of death. Alex was a point of agility in a sea of death, his movements a whirlwind of grace in the chaos. Sometimes, he killed the closest zombies, and when the group got bigger, he backed away again.
Just then, a shiver ran down his spine. A feeling of déjà vu, the vision from one of his dreams. In it, he was in a park, in front of a large building, and he used the trees, benches, and rocks to divide the zombies, killing the slower ones and using the terrain to gain time and conserve his energy. The sound of the growls in the cafeteria faded, and the only sound he heard was the echo of his breathing in the park.
But the distraction of the memory was his undoing. His mind, for a moment, disconnected from the harsh reality around him. He let his guard down. The group of zombies, a group of three of them, that had been following him, flanked him by circling a table.
The first, a zombie in a soccer jersey, lunged at him. Alex stabbed the zombie in the head, but the second, who had slipped to his side, bit his arm, and the third, who was approaching from behind, pushed him. The pain of the bite on his arm was like a lightning bolt. Alex, who had been using his arm for protection, felt a sharp pain, the sound of teeth grinding against the fabric of his clothes, but he knew they hadn't broken the skin.
With the pain clouding his senses, Alex, in a reflex action, kicked the third zombie and made it fall, and with a quick movement, he took care of the zombie that had bitten him. Alex, his heart pounding hard, felt relieved, but the pain in his arm reminded him that the victory was only temporary. Fear began to flood him, but he couldn't afford the luxury of giving in.
Worst of all, the confrontation had made a lot of noise, and now the rest of the zombie group, hearing the noise, headed for him. The thump, thump, thump that had been at the door was now a roar, a declaration of war heading his way.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Here's a new chapter of Alex the Lion.
This time we saw a moment of tension like few others before.
While the number of zombies isn't terrifying, for Alex and a group of inexperienced people, this was a daunting challenge.
By the way, it's true that not much time has passed since the start of the apocalypse. These students had been celebrating their high school's anniversary, and many were isolated inside by the military since approximately 5 p.m. the day before.
Without food or water. Furthermore, they are young people who are not used to these types of situations, and many barely slept the night before.
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Read my other novels
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time. (Chapter 77)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis. (Chapter 21)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File. (Chapter 7)
You can find them on my profile.]