In the classroom.
My feet were glued to the floor. My brain had shut down. The images repeated in a hellish loop: the bodies of my classmates on the floor, their empty eyes, the dried blood on their uniforms.
The sickeningly sweet smell of decay was a tangible cloud that clung to my throat, and my lungs burned from the air I couldn't take in. My heart pounded with the force of a drum, but my body felt as if my muscles wouldn't respond to orders, a puppet with its strings cut.
"Emily, keep that one away," Alex's voice, tense and urgent, echoed like a distant sound trying to break the bubble of panic I was in. "Professor, you and I will take care of the others."
But my body didn't respond. I stood still, watching how my classmates reacted in the same way. Their eyes, filled with panic, were fixed on the horror, their bodies paralyzed.
The nearest zombie, a guy from my history class I sometimes did assignments with, began to slowly drag himself toward me. Each hoarse moan and the sound of his shuffling foot felt like a hammer blow to my head.
In that moment of panic, my mind raced. Sonny's face, the way he sacrificed himself for me. The weight of responsibility, my promise to be a leader... Everything mixed in a whirlwind of emotions. I couldn't just stand there. Sonny's sacrifice, the pain of my friends, the guilt gnawing at me... I couldn't let anyone else down.
The zombie was only a few feet away. His hands dangled lifelessly, but his body moved with purpose, the purpose of biting me. My body seemed to move on its own, driven by a force that wasn't mine, a freezing rage trying to overcome the fear. I raised the makeshift spear they had given me, a piece of metal attached to a stick, and aimed it at his head.
The impact was brutal. A dull pain shot through my hands, but the spear didn't penetrate. Instead, it slid with a repulsive screech over the skull, sinking into the putrid skin. I could feel the metal slip over a soft bone before the weapon got stuck for a second.
My hands trembled, the stick vibrating with the failed impact. The failure hit me with renewed force, a whisper in my mind: You're useless, you can't do it. The zombie kept advancing, and the weight of my failure was as great as Sonny's on my conscience.
With the failure of my attempt, I quickly backed away. The zombie kept advancing, not caring about my failed attack. The oppression and fear became more intense. A flash crossed my mind. Alex's instructions. The night before, he had told me that the best thing I could do was to keep my distance from them. Also, I realized that my mind had misinterpreted the order. I didn't need to finish him off; I just had to contain him.
With a strength I didn't know I had, I stabbed the zombie in the chest, not with the intention of killing it, but of pushing it, of keeping it away from me. With the weapon stuck in its body, I managed to hold it at bay, my arms trembling from the effort.
The fear was still there, but now it was accompanied by a new feeling, the adrenaline of a real fight, a fight for survival. I was doing my part, and although I didn't feel like a hero, I didn't feel like a coward either.
"I hope he doesn't reach me," I thought, scared, gripping the makeshift spear tightly.
My arms ached, the muscles screamed for a break, but I couldn't give in. The spear, stuck in its chest, was my only defense. The zombie moved with a pathetic sway, its inert arms trying to get around my obstacle. I smelled the sickeningly sweet scent of its breath, a smell of rotten meat and dampness.
'Lower your center of gravity,' Tim's voice reminded me in my head. With a groan of effort, I leaned forward, bent my knees, and the zombie's weight transferred to my body. The spear felt firmer in my hands.
The zombie, despite its attempts, couldn't break my defense. I was able to keep it away, but my attention couldn't waver for a second. Its movements were unpredictable, instinctive. It seemed aware that the spear was the only obstacle between its jaws and my flesh.
My breathing normalized a bit, allowing me to look up and scan the room. A feeling of complete relief washed over me when I saw Alex.
He had managed to get rid of a zombie that now lay on the floor, the knife embedded in its skull. Now he was standing, fighting a second zombie with a brutal efficiency that filled me with renewed hope. I knew it wouldn't be long before he came to help me.
But my relief evaporated. Next to me, the professor lay on the floor, writhing. The fourth zombie was on top of him, its disfigured face and open jaws repeatedly clashing against the professor's arm.
My mind was flooded with images: Sonny, Morales, guilt, failure... But looking closer, I realized the professor's arm wasn't bleeding.
The professor had managed to cover himself with his thick jacket, and the zombie's teeth were only tearing the fabric, desperately trying to find flesh. The professor was still in danger, but he hadn't been bitten. Not yet. But the fight for our group's survival had only just begun.
It wasn't blood I saw, but the desperation in his eyes. A momentary relief ran through me. Alex saw it too.
With a speed I didn't expect, Alex stabbed the zombie and then let go, ran toward the professor, stabbed the zombie in the head, and kicked it away. Then he turned and looked at me. A flash of relief crossed his eyes when he saw that I was okay.
In that moment, the tension in my body dissipated, and I almost lost my grip on the spear, but I regained my strength and managed to keep the zombie away from me.
Alex came to my side. With a swift motion, he helped me get rid of the zombie that was cornering me. I let go of the spear and fell to my knees, sweat running down my forehead and my hands trembling from exhaustion and shock. I looked at Alex, my eyes filling with tears, but they weren't from fear, but from a deep gratitude.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice breaking. The shame of having been paralyzed was almost as great as the relief of being alive.
My knees trembled as I got up from the floor. The adrenaline was dissipating, leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. The professor, pale, rubbed his arm where the zombie had bitten it, fortunately without damage.
My classmates, the ones who had been paralyzed, were petrified, their faces pale and their bodies rigid. Alex, in the center of the room, with bloody hands and his knife hanging from his belt, looked at us with a serious, tired expression.
"If you were alone, many of you would have died," he said, in a stern, but not cruel, tone that came from a brutally honest truth. "This is real, and if you stand still, you die. I'm not asking you to be heroes; I'm asking you to protect your life... And not just yours, but also the person next to you, your friends and classmates. If you can't do that, if you can't protect your own destiny, what's the point of living?"
His reprimand wasn't scornful but reforming. He wasn't insulting us; he was pushing us toward a place we seemed unwilling to go. My mind was flooded with questions about him. The calm, the versatility, the brutal efficiency with which he moved were impressive.
"Was he a soldier?" I wondered.
The idea seemed plausible, but remembering his firm tone of voice, the one he used to give orders, it wasn't Tim's. Tim had a more direct and slightly more impersonal tone, that of a school-trained military man. Alex, on the other hand, had an authority that came from within, from street experience, from having seen more than I could ever imagine.
That only added to the mystery of his survival skills.
Alex's speech lasted only two minutes, but it was enough to shake my classmates. Although their faces still showed shame and fear, there was now a glimmer of determination. They were ashamed of their lack of help and composure, but they didn't flee. None of them ran from the room. That was a good sign that they could help us in the future.
"Let's go," Alex said, gesturing toward the door of the next classroom. "There are more people on this floor."
We got up and walked down the hallway. The silence was tense, interrupted only by our footsteps, but suddenly, we heard them. Murmurs and thumps came from the next classroom. Alex signaled for most of us to stay back, and only indicated for me, a couple of classmates, and the professor to accompany him.
Alex opened the door with caution, and the scene that awaited us took my breath away. We saw several zombies, one of them was pounding with a fist on the door of a locker, a locker where the murmurs of a person could be heard. It was a scene that reminded me of a lion attacking its prey.
The dense, dark silence was broken when Alex signaled to me, his hand making a quick motion toward the zombie lurking near a locker, and then to Minnie.
I understood his message immediately: "Take care of the zombie. Minnie will give you support." I felt a knot in my stomach, but also a wave of adrenaline. I wasn't petrified anymore. This time, I was the one who had to act.
"Minnie," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. She nodded, her eyes wide with fear, but with a determination that gave me courage. Her hand trembled slightly next to mine, and she bit her lip. I felt the responsibility to protect her and to be the leader the group needed.
While Alex and the professor went into the room to deal with the other zombies, Minnie and I approached ours. The zombie swayed, its inert arms swinging in an erratic motion. At one point, the zombie turned slowly, its white, dead gaze meeting ours.
It was a guy from the drama club, one of the boys who was always cracking jokes in class; now he was a monster. A shiver ran down my spine.
Just as the zombie tried to take a step toward us, Minnie acted. From her pocket, she took out a key and threw it hard against a nearby table. The metallic clink was enough. The zombie turned, confused by the sound, and in that instant of distraction, I saw it. This was my chance.
Remembering my previous experience, I raised the spear and stabbed it into its body with all my strength, using it as a fulcrum to keep it away. The zombie staggered, moaning with a guttural sound, but it didn't give in. The spear was my only shield.
"Minnie, now!" I whispered, nodding toward the zombie's temple.
I remembered Alex's words, that the skull was weak on the sides. Minnie approached slowly, her face pale and her hands trembling. As she got closer, I could see her throat constrict with disgust, but her determination didn't fade. With a quick and precise movement, Minnie stabbed the zombie in the temple. The sound was gruesome, a wet, horrifying crunch of bone and tissue giving way.
The zombie shook as if an electric shock had run through it, and it collapsed to the floor with a final echo that felt like an alarm. My body, without the zombie's weight against the spear, lost its balance. I almost lost my footing, but I managed to recover, but it was too late.
The sound of the zombie falling echoed in the empty classroom, and instantly, two zombies came out from the back. My eyes widened. Adrenaline mixed with fear.
I looked at Alex and the professor. They had finished off two zombies, but now three more were approaching them. Alex saw me, and with a frantic gesture, he signaled for us to retreat. It was the logical order, the safe order.
But I refused. I wasn't going to run away. I would never leave anyone behind again. With a determination I didn't know I had, I gave Alex a confident signal, indicating that we would take care of these two zombies. Then, I turned to Minnie.
"Stay by my side and be my support," I whispered, my voice firm, and I got ready to fight. I wasn't going to run. Not this time.
With a whisper in my mind that wasn't mine but Alex's, Minnie and I approached the two zombies. My grip on the spear was firm, the adrenaline was still flowing through my veins, but now it was a controlled force, not a paralyzing panic. I noticed that Minnie, next to me, was also moving more cautiously, her gaze concentrated.
"You, the one on the right," I whispered to Minnie, pointing to one of the zombies. She nodded, her face pale but resolved.
With an initiative that surprised even myself, I used the tip of my spear to trip the first zombie. With a dull thump, it fell flat on its face. The second zombie stepped forward, its attention fixed on the body of its companion trying to get up.
Minnie, with amazing speed, seized the opportunity. With a shout, she pushed the second zombie from behind, making it fall onto the one that was already on the floor.
I quickly moved in. My hands moved on their own. The tip of my spear found the back of the neck of the zombie that was getting up. Without hesitation, I stabbed. The spear penetrated with a sickening sound, and the zombie collapsed lifelessly.
"Minnie, now!" I shouted, urging her.
She, however, hesitated. I could see a flash of panic in her eyes, the fear of repeating my mistake. Her spear slipped, missing the target. There was no time. If the zombie got up, it would be too close to Minnie. With a speed that astonished me, I pulled my spear from the zombie's body, pushed Minnie aside, and helped her stab the zombie, our hands together, feeling the impact through her trembling arms. The zombie fell, and blood came out of its head.
We stood in silence, panting, our hearts pounding. We looked around. There was no movement, no sounds. The room, finally, was silent, except for our rapid breathing. Alex and the professor had taken care of the three zombies that had approached them. We looked at each other, and in that moment, a smile of relief spread across our faces. We had survived.
My attention shifted to the locker door. The murmurs had stopped, but I knew there was someone inside. I cautiously approached and, leaving my spear on the floor with a clang, as if I was getting rid of the brutality I had just lived through, I opened the door.
I found a young girl, no older than fifteen, huddled in a corner, her eyes filled with terror. She screamed, "Get away!", her voice trembling.
My heart ached. The horror I had seen in her eyes was the same I had felt just a few hours ago, or worse.
"She must have lived through something much worse than what we've seen," I thought, pained. I approached slowly.
"It's okay," I whispered, my voice as soft as I could make it. "We're here to help you. It's over. There's no more danger."
The young girl, still scared, looked into my eyes. In them, she saw that I wasn't a threat, that I was just like her, a survivor.
She threw herself into my arms, sobbing, clinging to me as if I were a lifeline. I hugged her tightly, feeling her body tremble against mine. In that moment, hope and horror met in a silent embrace.
I felt lucky. Lucky to have people like Alex, Tim, and the rest of my friends by my side. Lucky that, despite all the chaos, there was still a chance for humanity and hope.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
New chapter and "new" PC (I asked my little brother for it). It's a long one, too.
I hope you liked it.
Emily will now experience what it means to be a survivor; she won't just be rescued. Little by little, she begins to gain more courage, but at the same time, she is cautious and takes into account the lessons that allow her to fight the zombies and help more people.
By the way, this is already moving away from the main novel, which will move at a faster pace, but will miss many important details.
However, as I mentioned before, it's not necessary to read one or the other to understand the plot, so there won't be a problem with that.
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Read my other novels
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future. (Chapter 73)
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time. (Chapter 75)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 6)
You can find them on my profile.]