The basement was silent except for the faint dripping of water in the far corner. Dust clung to the air, and the smell of mold was so thick it scraped the back of Lexi's throat.
She sat cross-legged on the concrete floor, her back pressed against the wall. Motionless. Listening.
Above her, the world screamed. Heavy footsteps pounded across the school halls. Glass shattered. Voices rose and fell in panic, always ending the same way — in silence, swallowed by the guttural growls of the infected.
Lexi's eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. She pictured the faces of Cassy, Adrian, Billy, and Dave — the ones who had laughed as they shoved her into this basement, locking her inside with a sneer. Their mockery had echoed in her ears then.
Now their screams echoed instead.
Lexi opened her eyes, calm and unblinking. So much noise. So much panic. They had always thought themselves untouchable — the kings and queens of the school. Now they were meat. And meat doesn't rule.
Her hand slid across the floor until her fingers curled around the wrench she had pulled from an old toolbox. Heavy. Cold. Honest.
She tilted it in her hand, her reflection faint in the steel. Her lips curved into the slightest smirk. A queen doesn't need a crown. Just the right piece in her hand.
The ceiling above groaned suddenly. Something scraped along the boards. A muffled thump shook dust loose, sprinkling it over her hair.
Lexi didn't flinch. She angled her head, calculating distance and weight. Judging how many feet shuffled overhead. How many throats gurgled. Whether they were student or teacher before the rot set in.
She whispered to herself, low and steady. "Three. Maybe four. Slow gait. They're hungry, not hunting."
A strategist's murmur. She was always counting, even in the dark.
A scream pierced the air above her — high-pitched, shrill, then abruptly cut short. Lexi's pulse didn't race. She merely closed her eyes again, listening as the silence swallowed it.
She whispered, almost amused, "Checkmate."
The game was shifting, and she knew it. The bullies, the teachers, the whole school — every piece was being wiped from the board. But Lexi wasn't here to play by their rules anymore. She had her own.
She rose slowly, soundless as a shadow. Her gaze slid to the basement door — locked from the outside, the wood warped and weak at the hinges. She pressed her ear against it. Silence. Then faint dragging sounds moving farther away.
Not yet.
She turned back to the shelves. Cleaning supplies. Broken glass. A coil of wire. Her fingers lingered on each item as she considered its use. Improvised traps. Distraction tools. Bludgeons.
The corner of her mouth twitched upward again. A pawn doesn't survive by brute strength. A pawn survives by moving where no one expects. And when the board changes… a pawn becomes a queen.
The basement creaked. A soft groan echoed from somewhere in the shadows. Her grip tightened on the wrench. Eyes sharp, body still.
She waited. Calculated.
Above her, the chaos raged. But down here, in the dark, Lexi was no one's victim.
"997, 998, 999---"
She stopped counting.
Lexi's eyes drifted to the narrow gap beneath the basement door. A thin sliver of light. A padlock held the door shut on the outside — she had tugged at it earlier, knowing it was useless. She couldn't break it. Not from in here.
But she didn't need to.
The infected weren't smart. They were driven by sound, by vibration, by the promise of flesh. If she could use their hunger to her advantage… the lock might open itself.
She scanned the basement. Shelves lined with old cleaning supplies. Rusted cans. Shards of broken glass. And a length of wire coiled in the corner.
Her lips twitched into the faintest smile.
She tied a shard of glass to the end of the wire, crept to the door, and slid her makeshift tool through the gap beneath. She lay flat, her cheek against the cold concrete, maneuvering the glass shard until it tapped lightly against the metal padlock outside.
Clink.
A guttural snarl answered.
Heavy footsteps dragged closer. The thud of a body hitting the door made the hinges shudder. The lock rattled violently as claws and fists battered against it.
Lexi lay still, every muscle taut. She didn't breathe. She simply listened.
The infected slammed again. The padlock groaned. Rust screeched as metal scraped metal. Another slam. Another rattle. Until finally—
Snap.
The lock gave way.
The creature outside let out a guttural moan, pawing at the now-loose chain. It shoved against the door. The wood cracked. The gap widened.
Lexi waited. Silent. Patient. She counted the rhythm of its growls, the uneven shuffle of its steps. She let it batter twice more, until its frenzy drew it farther down the hall, chasing another sound.
Only then did she push the door open just enough to slip through.
Her wrench hung in her hand, steady and silent. Her movements were liquid, precise. She didn't rush. She didn't stumble. She became shadow.
She moved like smoke — weight balanced on the balls of her feet, the wrench steady in her grip. Every step was deliberate, her eyes flicking to shadows, reflections in broken glass, the subtle tremor of doors rattling under unseen fists.
A figure lurched around the corner, jaws snapping wetly. Lexi froze, counted its staggered rhythm, and when it drew close enough, she slid sideways, swinging the wrench upward. The steel cracked against its skull with a dull thud. No scream. No cry. Just collapse.
She slid into an empty classroom, shutting the door silently behind it. Down the hall, another cluster. Five of them this time. Too many to fight head-on. She spotted a toppled locker, papers scattered like snow.
Lexi knelt, snapped off a shard of glass, and hurled it down the opposite corridor. The sharp clang drew the infected away like moths to flame. She slipped past, brushing the wall like a shadow.
Every kill, every dodge, every breath was measured. She was conserving energy and time.
Finally, she reached the science wing. The smell of antiseptic mingled with blood, the metallic tang stinging her nose. She pushed the doors open, slow enough not to creak.
Twelve survivors huddled under the harsh glow of emergency lights. Their faces were pale, wild-eyed. And then one lifted her head.
Sasha.
The sneer came instantly. "Well, well, look who it is. Lexi. I thought you'd be zombie chow by now. What's the matter—too much of a coward to even die properly?"
Kelvin barked a laugh. "She probably hid under a desk the whole time. Pathetic."
Lisa chimed in, wrinkling her nose. "Honestly, I don't know how she's still alive. Maybe the zombies just looked at her and felt sorry."
Tori smirked and nodded in agreement.
Their laughter echoed through the room, bitter and ugly. The other survivors, desperate to belong, joined in too — even those who had never spoken to Lexi before. It was easier to mock her than risk Sasha's sharp tongue.
Kelvin shoved off the wall, he walked towards Lexi, his hand curling around her arm. "She doesn't belong here. She's just dead weight. We don't need her."
He yanked her to her feet, dragging her toward the door. The room buzzed with tension — some smirking, some wide-eyed, some avoiding eye contact altogether.
Lexi's knees buckled, and she dropped, catching herself on the concrete floor. Her voice came out in a tremble, thin and pitiful.
"P-please… don't… don't send me out there. I'll die. Please, I'll do anything."
Kelvin sneered, shoving her down harder. "Exactly. You'll die. Better out there than slowing us down."
Her palms scraped against the rough ground. She bowed her head lower, her voice cracking. "Please… I don't want to die. I'll stay out of your way. You won't even notice me. Just… please."
The laughter returned, cruel and cutting. Sasha crossed her arms, her eyes glittering with delight.
"Look at her," she said, her tone syrupy-sweet. "Begging like the pathetic little rat she's always been. Some things never change."
Lisa giggled. "It's actually kind of entertaining. She's like our own little… pet."
Tori smirked. "Yeah. Let her grovel. It suits her."
Lexi's shoulders shook. She sniffled, even let her voice break into a whimper. "I'll do anything. Just don't throw me out."
The group's cruel amusement swelled, feeding on her misery. Even those who had been uneasy moments ago began to laugh nervously, eager to be part of the pack.
But Sasha's smirk only deepened. She stepped closer to Lexi, her shadow falling over her. "No… let her stay. She's useful."
Lisa raised a brow. "Useful? How?"
Sasha's grin turned cruel. "Bait."
The word slid through the group like oil. Some chuckled nervously, others glanced at Lexi with unease. Kelvin grinned, satisfied.
Sasha leaned down, her face inches from Lexi's. Her voice was a hiss, sweet as venom. "That's better. On your knees. Right where you belong."
Lexi's eyes shimmered with tears, her lips trembling. On the outside, she was a pitiful wreck.
On the inside, she grew cold.
She wasn't begging for her life. She was maneuvering pieces.
Each laugh, each insult, each smug smile — she recorded them all, slotting names and faces into her mind like pawns on a chessboard.
And as she kept her head bowed, her tears dripping onto the concrete, she whispered silently to herself.
'Yeah, that's it. Now, they'll lower their guards against me, they'll think I'm too weak to resist, then they'll start the game and gradually play into mine.'
'How sweet.'
Lexi smirked secretly and soon put on her pitiful facade.
And they had no idea that by making her the bait, they had placed themselves squarely on her board.