In the newly cleared classroom.
The young girl's scream fractured into a sob. She clung to me with desperate strength, her body trembling against mine like a leaf in a storm. I felt her hot tears on my neck, the frantic rhythm of her heart against my chest, and the fragility of her shoulders. She was in shock, lost in a maze of fear and trauma.
She whispered, over and over, the same words in a heartbreaking loop.
"The monsters… they wanted to devour me. It was all my fault…"
She tightened her grip. The pain in her voice tore me apart. The guilt she felt reminded me of my own, the fear that had paralyzed me for so long. The sorrow for her suffering made me feel ashamed, and a wave of empathy washed over me. She didn't understand that it wasn't her fault, that there was nothing she could have done, but her words were as real to her as the monster that had wanted to devour her.
"It's over now," I whispered into her ear, my voice filled with a calm I didn't know I had. "It's not your fault. We're here. You're safe."
As I tried to comfort her, my gaze drifted around the room. The air, thick with the metallic scent of blood and decay, hung heavy.
In the midst of the chaos, I saw Alex. He was watching us, the girl and me, his expression unreadable, but I could see the fatigue in his eyes and the dried blood on his knuckles. With a swift, silent motion, he gestured to Minnie, the professor, and the others. His order wasn't just for efficiency; it was an act of compassion.
At first, I thought it was just so we could move faster with our cleanup mission. But then, I saw him look at the girl, at her sobs. I realized he did it so that when she calmed down, she wouldn't see the horror of the scene, so she wouldn't have to face the mutilated bodies of the zombies. That simple, yet profound gesture moved me to my core. A lump formed in my throat, and my eyes welled up with tears.
I felt like I was constantly discovering new facets of him. The same person who, just a few hours ago, had scolded me for my lack of composure and taught me that survival was the most important thing, was the same person who now showed such deep, silent compassion.
"Who is Alex, really?" I wondered as I held the girl.
The cold, calculating leader who gave orders, or the man who moved bodies to protect the mind of a traumatized young woman? Was he a former soldier? I discarded that idea again.
His knack for survival was a mystery that only continued to grow, and I didn't know if I would ever unravel it. I only knew that my fate, and that of the girl in my arms, was in his hands.
The girl's sobs, which had felt like an echo in my soul, began to subside. She clung to me with less force now, her body no longer shaking uncontrollably. I held my embrace, feeling her breathing become calmer and more even.
After a few minutes, she pulled back slightly and looked directly into my eyes. In her pupils, still darkened by terror, I saw the desperation of someone who had been on the brink of an abyss, but also a flicker of gratitude, as if she had just been rescued from her own personal hell.
She gave my hands a light squeeze and began to look around the room, her eyes darting quickly, searching for something, or for someone. She was looking for those who had once been her classmates, the people she had taken shelter with in that room the afternoon before, the same people who heard whispers and screams, and who finally succumbed to despair and death.
A lump formed in my throat. My imagination betrayed me. I found myself back in my thoughts, replaying the scene in my mind.
The afternoon before, the students had taken shelter in the classroom, just as we had. However, in the midst of the panic, one of them, perhaps someone who had already been bitten, turned. The betrayal, the confusion, the terror of seeing a friend transform into a monster. The blood, the screams of my classmates who didn't die instantly, the pounding of a fist on the young girl's shelf.
In the silence of the room, the echo of the screams and the sound of the fist resonated in my mind. But then, I snapped back to reality. I felt the girl's body in my arms, her weight a an anchor that brought me back to the present. I held her tight, feeling her body tremble against mine.
In that moment, hope and horror met in a silent embrace. I felt fortunate. Fortunate to have people like Alex, Tim, and the rest of my friends by my side. Fortunate that, despite all the chaos, there was still a chance for humanity and hope.
I was jolted from my thoughts by a slight movement from the girl. My body reacted, and I hugged her. The girl felt so small in my arms. The pain I had seen on her face was the same as the pain I had felt. I realized that my pain and my guilt were similar to what she felt, but I hadn't lived through the same hell.
With a gentleness that surprised me, I looked into her eyes. "What's your name?" I whispered.
She blinked, and her gaze refocused on me. "My name is… Eva," she said, her voice broken and exhausted.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eva," I replied. "My name is Emily. You're safe. You're with us now."
She nodded, her face relaxing slightly, but the fear was still there. In that moment, I understood that survival was more than just staying alive. It was also about embracing the person next to you. It was a matter of humanity, of compassion, and of mutual support. And right now, I was happy to be able to provide that support.
My only concern was whether these moments would be lost in the future. If trust would be lost, and with it, hope would also be lost.
I continued to hold Eva. I let her trembling body slowly calm in my arms. I tried to keep the conversation as simple as possible, an anchor for her traumatized mind. We talked about school, the weather, anything that wasn't stained with blood and horror.
"What kind of music do you like, Eva?" I asked her, my voice barely a whisper.
She flinched, and her voice cracked as she whispered back: "pop… but… the radio was on when… when the screams started."
"Me too," I said, with a smile on my face. "I like pop."
She calmed down, her sobs becoming less frequent. She gave my hands a light squeeze and looked at me. In her eyes, the panic had subsided, giving way to sadness and fatigue. For a moment, I felt like a hero, a leader, able to help people cope with horror.
But my eyes darted away, and I noticed Alex. His face, which was usually a mask of neutrality, now held an expression of deep concern. His jaw was clenched, and the urgency in his eyes was so raw that it made me see reality in a flash.
The relief I felt for the young girl was overshadowed by the truth: there were more people trapped in this and other buildings, waiting for a miracle. A miracle that we could provide.
I lifted my gaze and looked at Eva.
"Eva," I said, my voice cracking slightly but recovering quickly. "We need you to be very brave. We're going to take you to a safe place, but you have to go with them."
As I said that, some of the members of my group, those who were outside the building, came in. I realized that Alex had told them to come in. They approached us. The professor explained the situation to them in a low voice. Upon understanding what had happened, their faces softened, and they approached Eva with an unusual gentleness, trying to avoid anything that might scare her, even avoiding the bodies of the zombies that were near the door.
Eva left with them, looking back at me one last time with a gratitude that broke my heart. I felt sad for her suffering, but I also felt fortunate. I had realized that, despite everything, we were alive, and we had the opportunity to help others.
I turned to look at Alex. He met my eyes, and I gave him a smile. For the first time, I didn't feel fear, but a sense of responsibility and an impulse to keep going. My hands no longer trembled. The oppression that had paralyzed me in the first room had completely dissipated.
"I'm ready," I said, my voice firm. "Let's finish this. There are more people who need us."
Alex nodded. I was no longer the same Emily who had been paralyzed. I was a new Emily, one who felt stronger, braver. I was no longer dead weight. I was part of the solution.
20 minutes later.
The morning sun filtered through the high school windows, casting long shadows on the floor. Twenty minutes later, with the zombie bodies piled up and the hallways cleared, I sat on the stairs near the main entrance of the building, exhausted.
We had cleared all the rooms on the first floor. In total, we had dealt with about twenty zombies. Twenty beings who were once my classmates.
I leaned back against the wall; my eyes closed from exhaustion. The silence was filled with the noises that were no longer there: the pounding of fists, the moaning, the sound of the spear penetrating flesh and bone. I murmured to myself, my voice barely a whisper.
"We're moving like we're in a movie, but this is real. We're a group of teenagers, and we just killed twenty people. No, twenty monsters… No, both."
My body, though tired, felt stronger, braver. My heart, which had been pounding, was now calming down. My mind, which had been filled with fear and panic, felt clearer. I realized that the impulse I had felt when I faced the first zombie hadn't vanished. It had become something bigger, a part of me. It was the impulse to keep going, to help people, to protect myself and those around me.
I opened my eyes and realized that I wasn't the only one who had changed; the group had, too. Those who had been paralyzed now had a glint of determination in their eyes. They weren't soldiers, but they moved with more certainty, their movements more precise.
Some whispered.
"I can't believe we did this."
"That was my friend."
I looked up and saw the seventeen people we had rescued. They were sitting on the floor, eating the crackers and bread we had found in the classrooms.
Some of them were covered in dust, their clothes torn, but they were alive. Some had protected themselves the night before, while others had had to fight for their lives.
They all looked at us—at me, at Alex, the professor, Minnie, and the rest of the first group—with deep gratitude in their eyes. But also, with something else, something I hadn't seen before: respect.
They knew the horrors that had been lived the night before. And they valued the bravery of a group of students who hadn't fled, who had decided to fight. A lump formed in my throat.
Just two more minutes of rest. It felt like an hour, but at the same time, like a second. Fatigue hit me hard, and I leaned back against the wall, cold sweat sticking to my skin. The silence felt heavy, a brutal contrast to the screams and thuds we had heard just moments before. My muscles ached, but my mind felt strangely clear.
A silence spread through the group as Alex approached, his figure a shadow of authority. He didn't speak, he just looked at us, and I could feel his gaze evaluating our condition. Then, he turned to the seventeen people we had saved.
"You can go rest," he said, in a softer voice than I had ever heard from him. "You can go to the shelter, eat, and rest. You've earned it."
Some of the students, emboldened by relief, offered to help.
"No, we want to help," one of them said, his voice full of enthusiasm.
Alex shook his head, his expression calm but firm.
"If you want to help, the strongest of you can go help Tim and his group with the barricade. Those who don't… can rest or help group three gather the zombies at the main entrance of the high school. We need you to be ready for what's to come. But for now, rest. Don't get into trouble."
A murmur ran through the group of rescued students.
Some seemed reluctant, their faces showing frustration at not being able to join the fight. Others, the majority, looked relieved, happy not to have to face the horrors they had seen the night before. When everyone had left, Alex turned and looked at us. His gaze was firm; with no trace of the softness, he had shown the others.
"We'll continue. We're going to clear the second floor. We'll go up the stairs, and then, room by room, just like we did downstairs."
The weight of his words fell upon me, but this time, I didn't feel scared, but excited. We all nodded, knowing what we had to do. The fear, although it was still there, was now a silent companion.
I was no longer the same Emily who had been paralyzed in the first room. Now, my mind wasn't filled with panic, but with a new resolution. One that made me feel that I, an ordinary girl, was the last hope for those waiting for us on the second floor.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
I know this one is much more chill than the last one, but there are many confrontation and preparation scenes coming up for the group of survivors, especially Emily's.
By the way, I remind you that this novel focuses on Emily and her transformation, hence the title. On the other hand, I'm trying to recreate this metamorphosis, but I could obviously make mistakes.
So bear with me, and if you see any mistakes, let me know.
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Read my other novels
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 74)
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time (Chapter 78)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 7)
You can find them on my profile.]