In Emily's classroom.
The weight of my parents' words and the reckless escape of my classmates and some teachers settled on me like a heavy, immovable stone.
At first, I felt I could lead everyone to create something together, but I didn't realize that I couldn't impose my way of thinking on others, even when my proposal to create the shelter was for their own good and for their safety.
"Phew… This is starting to get more and more complicated," I thought, exhausted. I turned to see Louis, who was waiting for me with his gaze lost on the floor.
"Let's go see Alex and the others. They might need our help," I said in a low voice, still processing everything that had happened.
We walked down the hallway; an uncomfortable silence held between us. Louis seemed as exhausted as I was, but in a different way; his weariness was that of the vigil, of the long wait. Mine was that of a mind that had just processed the total collapse of its entire known world.
In the distance, a familiar and mournful sound broke the silence.
It wasn't the hysterical howling of the previous night, but rather a distant echo. The sirens of ambulances, police, and firefighters. They had been a constant chorus the previous afternoon and night, a persistent reminder that civilization, although in danger, was still trying to resist. But now, their sound felt remote, like a desolate last goodbye.
My heart sank. It was a sound too distant to mean real help. What my father had said came to mind, thousands of people pouring into the streets and blocking the roads.
Help would never reach the center. Even if they knew we were here, they couldn't get to us, they had no way of doing it. The high school was a beacon of hope in a vast ocean of chaos, but it was also a clear trap.
We reached the staircase and began to descend; the echo of our steps was the only thing filling the void of the building. Each step brought us closer to reality, to the harshness of what Alex had accomplished while I was lost in my own inner fears.
The atmosphere grew colder.
Once on the first floor, the smell of damp earth and stale air hit us suddenly, different from upstairs.
I could see the barricades, a series of desks piled up and secured with canvas straps. There was a small gap in the middle, a narrow and perfectly created passage.
Passing through there, I felt like an explorer venturing into a completely unknown territory. Before, this could have been a normal journey for me. A trip to the cafeteria from my classroom, to buy a dessert to share with Amy, or maybe a different lunch. But now, the feeling was very different.
The high school courtyard, the very place that was less than twenty-four hours ago had been the scene of a party, the anniversary of the high school, was now bathed in a strange and deep stillness.
My steps stopped abruptly.
"The silence…", I whispered to myself, feeling a shiver.
There were no growls, no shuffling feet, nothing at all. Just the whistling of the wind and the distant murmur of the sirens as they faded away.
I looked around, and that's when I finally saw it.
The bodies. Hundreds of them, piled up or scattered across the lawn, the outer corridors, and the courts. The vast majority with their heads shattered, their limbs at unnatural angles, or their torsos perforated.
The blood, now dry, formed dark stains on the concrete or left noticeable marks on the grass. A sweet and repugnant smell of decomposition entered my nostrils.
That was unnatural. It couldn't be.
"How was it possible if people had only turned yesterday afternoon?", I wondered.
Despite the nausea I felt, my gaze searched for those responsible for that carnage.
And there they were. Near the central fountain in the courtyard, sitting on the edge of a freshly mowed lawn, were Alex, Tim, George, and Marlon. Four figures that looked like authentic sculptures of war, immobilized by fatigue. Their shoulders were hunched, their heads hung down, and their breaths were ragged.
Louis and I looked at each other and it wasn't necessary to say a single word.
Together, we headed towards them. Alex was the first to notice our presence, lifting his head. His eyes, once cold and distant, were now veiled by extreme fatigue. Tim and Marlon took only a few seconds to react. Marlon got up with a jump, approached us, and gave Louis a hug.
"Are you ok?", I asked George, who had a bloody axe by his side.
George stood up from the ground, he looked dirty, but fortunately he was not hurt, and his face showed a calmness that I didn't feel. He looked at us with a small glint of pride and then lowered his head.
"Yes, we finished off everyone we could, now we just have to wait for Alex to tell us what we should do," he replied, lifting his chin slightly.
George's words resonated in my chest. They had managed to do a job that seemed impossible.
"Hello, how are you really?", I asked Alex, feeling incredibly stupid.
Alex stared at me for a few seconds and felt eternal.
"Yes, I'm fine," Alex replied with a dry and clipped tone.
"It seems he's still angry about last night," I thought, feeling terrible inside.
"I'm fine, this is not a time for chitchat... The courtyard is clear now. We need to go get the others," Alex said, pointing to some nearby buildings.
"It's much better if we go back and talk to everyone."
We walked back to the classroom in a tense silence.
The water from the fountain, fresh and pure, still felt on my hands, but it hadn't erased the bitterness left by the conversation. It wasn't a reproach, but a dry question, a test that had chilled me to the bone.
"Did he regret coming to save me?", I asked myself with genuine concern.
The idea pierced my heart like a knife.
Was I so foolish to think that?
Not only for entering the classroom where Professor Morales was isolated, but for thinking that my attempt at humanity would be well-received in this new world. I had to stop being afraid, to stop reacting automatically, and start being proactive.
Upon arriving at the classroom, the air felt heavy in the room, laden with everyone's fatigue and fear. Alex stood right in the center of the room, his imposing figure dominating the entire space. His face, as inexpressive as usual, revealed nothing of what had just occurred between us.
"We need to act immediately," he said, with a clear voice that silenced all the murmurs in the room. "There are students and teachers trapped in the other buildings, without food and without knowing what's happening. We have to go get them."
Tim approached, his face reflecting the pragmatism that always characterized him.
"That's crucial, but the main entrance barricade needs to be reinforced. The military left it, but it's not that secure. If the creatures get in there, everything we've done will have been for nothing," he commented in his usual serious tone.
The rest of the group nodded their heads, listening carefully to every word. Everyone's opinions joined the general conversation.
"We have to make good use of our time," Alex interjected. "We need to get the food from the cafeteria. That is our main priority. We're going to split into three groups to be more efficient. One to clear buildings, another to reinforce the barricades, and the last one to clear the bodies."
I felt a jolt of adrenaline inside.
This was my ideal opportunity. My chance to do something, to stop being just dead weight.
I stood up from my seat.
"I want to be in the first group," I said, with a firm voice, surprising even myself. "I want to go to the buildings to rescue the others."
Alex looked at me, and for a very brief moment, I could see a small glint of surprise in his eyes, but he nodded his head.
"Emily," Alex began to mention the members of the first group. "You, Professor, and some students will go with me in the first group. Our objective is to clear the buildings in an orderly fashion and help those who are trapped. We will also have to check for signs of wounds and isolate those people in case they turn into zombies."
I felt a knot in my stomach, but I didn't take back my words.
"The second group," Alex continued, "Tim, George, Marlon, Louis, and some other students, will go to improve the barricade at the entrance and clear the zombies from that area. The third group…"
Alex seemed somewhat uncomfortable, I noticed where he was looking and realized he didn't know the names of Amy and the rest of the students present.
"Amy, Minnie, Sophie, Brody, a teacher, and the rest of the people," I helped Alex name them.
"You all will have to pile up the zombie bodies near the entrance," Alex added, looking at me intently with something resembling a grateful expression.
Once the groups were finished forming, it was decided that it was better to take a short break and eat a little food to regain our lost strength.
The fear and tension were still present in the atmosphere, but now they were mixed with a new feeling, that of having a clear plan, of having a purpose. We had become a group of survivors who understood that inaction was not an option.
I sat down to eat some of the food we had found, but the taste had no importance at all. My mind was already totally on what would come next: the dark hallways, the latent fear, the horror of facing the zombies directly.
But I was no longer a scared child.
I was no longer dead weight for the group.
I was ready to do my part. I was ready to stop fearing what was approaching.
15 minutes later, Group One got underway.
We walked down the main hallway; each step we took resonating in the silence.
I carried my makeshift spear, its familiar weight anchoring me to the harsh reality, but my hands were sweating coldly.
Alex walked at the front of the entire group, his knife held tightly in his hand, a pillar of absolute calm. The professor and the other students carried homemade weapons: metal pipes, makeshift spears like mine, and although we had all worn thick clothes and jackets for protection, I felt my skin unprotected and vulnerable.
Fear accompanied us on our way, but there was a new spark in the eyes of my companions, a determination that I had not seen in any of them before.
It wasn't bravery, but a brutal need to survive.
We headed to a wing of the high school that led to the gym.
Passing near the building, I saw students and teachers in the classrooms and labs. They were waving at us, their faces pale with alarm and desperation.
But upon seeing us, their expressions changed. A wave of hope flooded them, and they began to point in different directions, alerting us to the wandering zombies in the hallways.
Alex took the lead and opened the door to the first building with a spooky caution.
The hallway seemed dark, but it wasn't due to a lack of light, but rather a sense of oppression that was flooding us. The silence was absolute.
The tiled floors that once shined were now dirty and a faint sweet, putrid smell floated in the air, like stale meat.
We entered with caution, each one checking their back, with our eyes wide open.
Once we were all inside, Alex turned and looked at us.
His voice was a whisper, but it resonated with undeniable authority.
"Listen, we're going to clear room by room, floor by floor. I'll go in front. I want the professor to stay behind me, covering me. The rest of you stay behind, ready to attack if anything gets past us. If we find living people, check for bite marks. If someone is infected, we have to isolate them immediately. Understood?"
A tense silence took hold of us.
A companion, with eyes full of fear, dared to ask. "What if there are too many?"
"They're not too many," Alex replied with the same calm voice, looking through the windows of the first classroom. "There are only four, for now. Look."
Alex opened the door to the first classroom.
The scene that awaited us hit me with the force of a physical blow.
There were four zombies walking erratically among the desks, their bodies contorting in spasmodic movements. But they weren't the worst part.
On the floor, between the tables, were the bodies of two companions, devoured and mutilated.
A companion behind me let out a choked cry. The professor, next to me, brought a hand to his mouth, fighting to contain his retching.
I didn't vomit. I was already expecting something like this but imagining it and seeing it in person were two completely different things.
The stench of decomposition was more evident now, a sweet and metallic smell that stuck to my throat. The zombies, with their pale faces and dead white eyes, seemed terribly harmless, but we all knew the terrors they could put us through.
My gaze fixed on the bodies. Each one seemed to be taken from a horror movie.
I could see the expressions of terror on their faces frozen in time, the dry tears on their cheeks, the bite marks, and the areas where the skin had been torn and gnawed.
What impacted me the most was seeing the high school uniform, identical to the one I wore on normal days, splattered with dark blood and clots of flesh.
Those were my classmates, my friends, and I could have ended up like that.
The determination I had felt before was mixed with fear, an icy and heavy fear that told me this was hell, and we had only just met it.
"There are only four of them," Alex whispered, his voice low and tense. "The professor, you, and I... we have to finish them off."
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
I was thinking that perhaps by saying that some of Emily's classmates and teachers had run away worried, there would be inconsistencies as to why the rest hadn't escaped as well.
But after thinking about it for a moment and imagining such an event, I realized that not many would do such a crazy thing, not with everything they went through the previous afternoon and evening.
I can't imagine leaving a seemingly safe place only to flee to an unknown one.
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Read my other novels
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future. (Chapter 72)
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time. (Chapter 73)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 5)
You can find them on my profile.]