Closed Campus

by Gayle Katz

  Closed Campus

  Jane Zombie Chronicles

  Book 1

  Gayle Katz

  In Your Face Publishers

  Blue Bell, PA

  Copyright © 2018 Gayle Katz

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the author. For permissions contact:

  gayle@gaylekatz.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit the author’s website at GayleKatz.com

  Dedication

  ________________________________________

  This book is dedicated to every zombie apocalypse fan and undead enthusiast out there who helped me along my debut novel journey. This one’s for you!

  Table of Contents

  ________________________________________

  Closed Campus

  Free Zombie Mini Adventure

  Thank You

  About the Author

  FREE DOWNLOAD

  Sign up for the VIP list to receive a FREE mini zombie adventure and find out about Gayle’s next book!

  Hop over to her website to get started!

  If that link doesn't work, click here: http://zombie.gaylekatz.com

  Chapter 1

  ________________________________________

  10:10 a.m.

  I stare out of the window of my third-floor classroom watching the snowfall. Snow has a well-deserved bad reputation here in upstate New York.

  My professor is running late. I look at my watch. 10:10 a.m. Class was supposed to start at 10:00 a.m.

  Where is he? I wonder as I twirl my longish brown hair around my fingers.

  How rude of me. I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Jane. At the time of this story, I am in my second semester of college away from home, and the introvert in me is coming out again. Going away to college wasn’t my first choice after high school. I really want to stay close to home, continue working at my marketing internship, and save money. Instead, my parents pushed me to go away so I could experience life out from under their safe and secure wing.

  Now I’m in a classroom with a bunch of crazy teenagers in a strange town. Sitting in this old brick building in a cold, sterile science classroom with those artificial, yellowish florescent lights shining down makes me want to go back to sleep. I mean, chemistry at 10:00 a.m. is just painful. Add the energy-draining lights and the beige classroom walls devoid of warmth and natural light, and what strength I have vanishes.

  Looking around the room, everything is clean and pristine. Every microscope and Bunsen burner has its place; even the chalkboard has been completely wiped clean.

  Turning my head away from the window, I look down at my hands. Not knowing what to do or what protocol to follow, I pull my phone out of my bag to listen to the local radio station to take my mind off my nerves. Not only is it a great radio station run mostly by the students, but also I’d be working there tonight. It’s going to be my first overnight shift. I have been practicing for weeks.

  It wasn’t easy, getting ready for tonight, I mean. I committed to learning how a good DJ works a radio station. I practiced turning on the microphone, making sure I had high enough sound levels to ensure listeners could hear me, but not so high that I didn’t blow out anyone’s ears.

  My training didn’t stop there. One of the most important things I learned is how to transition between songs so there’s no dead air. Dead air isn’t just a general bummer, but also gets people to change the station fast, and that means fewer listeners.

  With all this practice, I haven’t actually listened to the station much over the past few weeks. That’s got to change.

  I put in my ear buds and make sure I’m on the right station.

  “And those are your college hockey scores. The highlight? Lance ‘the Great’ Miller pulls another slap shot out of his magic hat!”

  “Wow! How does he keep doing it, Logan? It’s pretty much insane how good that guy is, right?”

  “Well, he’s certainly keeping our team in the thick of it. Without him I’m not sure we’d be in play.”

  “If I were a betting man, I’d certainly risk a few dollars on him.”

  “Just don’t jinx it, Jack. We need Lance unfettered and free to mop up the ice with these guys.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I hear ya.”

  “You think he’s goin’ pro after his college days are done?”

  “Only time will tell, man. Only time will tell.”

  I guess I missed the news, but all things considered these guys on-air seem pretty decent.

  Going on the air is no longer just something that would happen in the future. It’s only a few hours away. I could feel my heart flutter with anticipation and anxiety. Just breathe, I tell myself.

  Who’s jumpy today? Gotta calm down. I start picking my fingers. Don’t judge. It’s my coping mechanism for when I’m alone, uneasy, excited, terrified, whatever. OK, it’s a habit.

  When will the professor get here? When will class start?

  I realize I need another distraction.

  Hm. Maybe I have time to go to the bathroom before he gets here.

  Hopping out of my chair, I make a dash for the door and bolt down the hall in search of the bathroom. I run right into someone. Not just any someone, though, it’s that hot jock I’ve seen in the hall. I’ve definitely taken notice although I would never utter a word to him. Why would he want to talk to me anyway? He’s quite nice to look at, though.

  Falling to the floor, all I can do is stare up at him. Everything about him seems perfect: big blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, strong, muscular arms, big hands, bouncy dark brown hair. I don’t want him to think I’m staring, but I can’t look away.

  Mesmerized by his perfection and stunned from our chance encounter, I manage a quick, “Hi.”

  He extends his hand to help me up.

  “Hi back at you. In a hurry?”

  “Um. Yeah. My professor is running late, so I thought I could make it to the bathroom and back before he gets to class.”

  He looks at his watch and smiles at me. “You better hurry. You don’t want to be late.”

  “I will. Sorry. Didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

  “That’s OK. I kinda liked it. I’m Lance.” He’s still smiling.

  “Mm hm. Lance? Lance from the hockey team? I think the sports guy mentioned you on the news this morning.”

  “He probably did. Well, they normally do. I’m a pretty good hockey player.”

  “You’re pretty confident.”

  “Yeah. I am. It’s easy when you’re the best hockey player in the entire school.”

  He has this cocky confidence that’s really appealing. I smile at him and continue on to the bathroom. As I’m walking forward, I turn back around to see him still looking at me and smiling. I smile too.

  ***

  Back in class, I catch myself staring out the window again. I see the snow coming down faster and heavier now. If it snows anymore, walking to my next class isn’t going to be easy.

  The snow seems to be coming down faster and faster. That’s when I see a huge 4x4 pull into the professor’s designated parking spot. All-wheel drive vehicles are important up here. If you get stuck in the snow, you might not make it out until springtime. The snow here is that crazy.

  Moments later, I can see the professor step out of his car. Even in the midst of snow and blowing winds he still m
anages to keep himself together. He grabs his nice leather briefcase and briskly walks to the front door. He’s quite tall and very good-looking, for a professor.

  While we haven’t talked one-on-one yet, we have interacted in class. He asks a question. I answer it. He tells me I’m correct, and he smiles a sexy smile at me. I smile a nervous little one back at him.

  I’m pretty sure he’s got a thing for me, or at least I think he does. You know that feeling, right? When someone is looking at you, and they can see right into your soul? You get all discombobulated and flushed. And that scares me. He’s always smiling when I ask him chemistry questions. Sometimes when he’s answering my questions in class, he walks down the aisle and stares, and I feel the electricity between us.

  Just the thought of him gets me excited, but I can’t do anything about it. He’s my professor, for gosh sakes! His footsteps get louder, and I hear and then see the doorknob turn. The professor opens the classroom door and enters, brushing the snow off his coat.

  He looks especially handsome today. I try to focus.

  “OK, class. Simmer down.”

  He pulls the early morning edition of the newspaper out of his expensive briefcase and looks at the front page. I see a smile creep over his face, and he seems so satisfied with himself. He turns the paper to us and points at the big, bold headline: Cure for Cancer Found!

  He tells us in his typical condescending manner, “Not that you lowly undergrads can appreciate what success looks like, but something very exciting is happening. You’re in the presence of greatness. I am being recognized as the top scientist in the world. You should feel privileged knowing that your professor is a ground-breaking visionary.”

  “So you cured which cancer?” one student blurts out.

  “It’s a form of bone cancer” he replies. “Impressed? You should be.”

  He’s so arrogant, I thought. Part of me finds him fascinating because he’s so smart and takes charge. Another part finds him incredibly egotistical, as if he thinks he’s better than everyone else. It makes me sick when he takes every opportunity to remind us we’re not on his level, and we never will be.

  I swear he looks right at me. It’s like he can hear what I am thinking.

  “I’ve heard students in this class mumbling about why they have to take science classes and how the sciences won’t help them when they enter the ‘real’ world,” he says with the accompanying air quotes.

  “With that said, I’d like to shatter all of those misconceptions. Without science there would be no progress in this world. Without science there’d be no cure.”

  He look around the room.

  “If we succeed, it will be science that helps heal people of this horrible condition. It will be science that allows people to live longer lives. Chew on that!”

  “Is the cure ready for the public? How far along are you?” I ask.

  “Not yet, but very astute of you, Jane. We’re far enough along to begin trials on actual cancer patients. It’s exciting work.” He beams at me.

  I don’t say anything else.

  Hands are raising and the other students are asking questions about his research. I hear a few students mumble something about the professor being the foremost authority in multiple scientific fields, not just chemistry, but genetics too. Loving when the conversation revolves around him, he manages to answer their queries with some uppity answers. After about fifteen minutes of Q&A, he decides it’s time to get back to educating us monkeys.

  “OK, back to our studies.”

  I swear he gives me one of his sly smiles again. I look away, wondering if anyone else notices. Maybe I’m reading too much into what’s happening. He could just be a good professor who’s proud of his accomplishments, after all. I focus on the front of the classroom again.

  It seems like every time I look at him, he’s already looking at me. It’s eerie.

  Over my own thoughts I hear him say, ‘Take out your writing implement and your notebook.”

  I open my bag and search frantically for my pen. No dice. How could I have forgotten it? After searching and searching, I see the professor walk toward me. He pulls out one of his pens and offers it to me.

  “Make sure I get it back, Jane,” he says with a smile.

  I nod.

  As class continues, I forget about my professor as my mind races. There are so many things I need to do before heading off to the radio station tonight. I am preoccupied with the rest of my classes and thinking about doing my homework as well as fitting in time to eat and sleep in order to be ready for my 2 a.m. shift.

  The radio station is my attempt to crack open my shell, be more outgoing, and meet new people. While it’s completely out of my comfort zone, I feel it’s necessary to live my life. I don’t want to be so shy and introverted forever. It keeps me from experiencing the things I want to experience, not that I really know what that means or exactly what I want to experience.

  The time in class passes fairly quickly. It’s easy when you have a nice-looking professor pacing around in front of you. Before I know it, it’s time. Class is over.

  I pack up my books and spring out of my chair in the hopes of sprinting to my next class when my professor asks me to wait.

  “Jane, come and see me before you head out.”

  I sit back down. Without saying a word, I smile and wonder, What does he want to see me for?

  For a moment, I forget about the rest of my classes. I patiently wait for the rest of the students to funnel out of the classroom. As the last student exits, I get up from my chair and walk the few steps down to the front of his desk.

  He walks around his desk so he is standing face-to-face with me. It’s the first time we are alone. It’s a little too close for my liking so I back up a bit.

  He takes the opportunity to move in closer.

  “You didn’t seem engaged in today’s lecture, Jane.”

  I don’t know what to say. He takes another step closer, and I take another back.

  “Is there something I can do to get you more… interested?”

  “Um. No, I’m fine.”

  Another step back. I’m back where I started at my desk. He leans in close.

  He extends his arm and touches my hand.

  “Are you sure? I have office hours now, and I don’t have anyone else booked.”

  I quickly retract my hand from his touch. I am attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? But he’s my professor, and I have to get to my next class.

  Feeling incredibly uneasy, I want to leave and keep what is left of my personal space personal.

  “Thanks for the offer, Professor. I really appreciate it,” I say as I try to muster up a smile.

  “Why are you so hesitant, Jane? I know this is only your second semester. Freshmen need all the help they can get, and I’m willing to help you. Let me.”

  My mind is swirling with everything that’s happening.

  “I—I—”

  This time he grabs my hand and holds it tight. I try to pull away, but I can’t. He won’t let go. He’s being grabby, and I’m feeling awkward. I know I’m a freshman, but this can’t be how a typical professor/student relationship should be. At least it’s not with my other professors. Why is he acting like this? Maybe his accomplishments are making him way over-confident?

  From the corner of my eye I notice a crowd of students waiting at the door. I look at them, but the professor is still staring at me, waiting for my answer.

  “I think you have students waiting for you,” I say as I point to the door.

  He turns to look at the door, and I am finally able to yank my hand away from him. I try to play it cool.

  “Gotta get to my next class. See you tomorrow, Professor,” I say as I run out of his classroom.

  So many thoughts are whirling through my head as I escape into the hallway. What just happened there? He’s always been a bit flirty, but today is different. Why is he hitting on me? Should I report him? Should I take him up on his offer? My anxiety
is taking over. Feeling overwhelmed, I can’t think. What would the extroverted, adventurous person inside of me do?

  OK, forget all this. As I exit the building, I have to focus on getting to my next class.

  I get a little bit of a sprint going. Maybe getting the blood flowing will help me release my pent-up frustration. Besides, I am running late.

  As I near my next antiquated classroom building almost buried in snow, I run into Lance again. I smile at him as I approach the front steps. He is wearing a baseball cap now and has a hockey stick strapped to his back. I am going to try to make small talk with him. Of course, with me, all talk seems pretty big and intimidating.

  “Hi again. We seem to have a similar schedule today.”

  “Yep. We keep running into each other.”

  “That’s a fun coincidence.” Did I just say that’s a fun coincidence? Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. I smile and try to walk up the stairs to get to class, but he steps in front of me.

  At the same time, he turns his cap backwards. He leans in close.

  “Sorry. Can’t let you go in yet,” he says with a smile.

  “Uh. Why not?”

  He leans in closer.

  “You never told me your name.”

  “Oh. Sorry! My name is Jane. Can I get by now?”

  “No.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “You didn’t agree to have dinner with me. I can’t let you in until you agree to go to dinner with me.”

  His offer totally catches me off-guard. “I didn’t know that was an offer. I’ll think about it.” I smile. “I really, really have to get to class, Lance. I’m late.”