[Win – 8:32 a.m.]
The barricade shudders again.
Another thud.
Another splinter.
And then—
a rotting hand breaks through the bottom panel.
Kao doesn't wait.
She lunges forward and stabs it clean through the wrist with her rod.
It twitches.
Snaps.
Still alive.
She stabs again—this time through the ear.
The body behind the door goes limp.
[8:34 a.m.]
Lin yells, "Did you see that?!"
Kao pulls her rod back, calm.
"Neither Skull nor Heart matter."
She taps her temple.
"It's the brainstem. You have to kill the connection."
Palm, panting, repeats, "Brainstem. Brainstem. That's the spot."
I nod, gripping the rod tighter.
That's our weakness.
[8:36 a.m.]
Another one busts through.
Lin swings fast, but it only goes down when Palm rams a broken cymbal into its upper spine.
It collapses.
Palm freezes.
Then stares at the blood-slicked cymbal in his hand like he just solved a puzzle.
"…Give me five minutes,"
he mutters.
[8:38 a.m.]
Palm rushes to the far wall, eyes scanning everything — mic stands, guitar strings, flutes, drumsticks.
"Palm?"
I call.
"WEAPONS,"
he yells.
"I can make weapons."
We keep fighting.
Two more come through the hole.
Lin's blade snaps.
Kao moves in silence, slicing two heads with one motion.
I swing too early and miss.
One grabs my hoodie.
I choke—
until Lin kicks it back and Kao finishes it.
My heart feels like it's burning in my chest.
[8:42 a.m.]
Behind us, Palm is on the floor.
He's:
Wrapping piano wire around flute bodies
Sharpening triangle edges with a rock
Breaking drumsticks into spears
Turning clarinet tubes into shivs using broken mic rods
"Anything long and metal—add strings, sharpen ends, reinforce grips."
He grins manically.
"WE'RE NOT IN MUSIC CLASS ANYMORE. THIS IS BATTLEFIELD OF WAR AND WE HAVE TO FIGHT ."
[8:47 a.m.]
Kao kicks one final zombie into the shelf.
Lin slams a stand through its neck.
The groaning finally stops.
For now.
We all collapse in a circle, panting, bleeding.
Palm gets up and walks to the middle of the room like it's an RPG cutscene.
He holds out four weapons he crafted.
A sharpened trumpet mouthpiece dagger.
A mic stand turned halberd.
A triangle axe.
And a spiked flute.
"Welcome to Orchestra of the Dead,"
he says.
I take mine — the spiked flute.
It feels weirdly balanced.
Lin laughs.
Kao stares at Palm like he's not human.
Maybe he's not.
But in this moment?
He's the hero we didn't know we needed.
___________________________