Zombie University (The Complete Series): How I Survived the Zombie Apocalypse

by Trip Ellington

  “Well, I already ate all your Easy Mac, so…” I joked. Tom shook his head.

  “Dude, be my guest. That stuff’s gross. Why do you think I had so much left?” As he led us through the back door, I took one last glance at the empty boxes and shelves, and one last look at the closed storeroom door, beyond which I knew the zombies were still lurking. That’s when I realized Lana hadn’t brought my bat with her. For a second, I was genuinely disappointed.

  “Hey, Sam, come on,” she called.

  I tore my gaze away from the door. Oh well. I’d live, after all.

  Part 2

  Tom led the way across the quad. I don’t know if it’s because I was hungry or because of the sun’s aim, but it sure felt like lunchtime. I glanced back over my shoulder at the cafeteria. I could almost picture things back to normal. Undergrads in pajama bottoms looking to hit the taco station or at least grab a grande espresso before their next seminar. The place was still crawling with hungry students. The lack of actual food meant nothing. I wondered if they’d be ready for Round Twelve when the sun set and the moon rose.

  Lana walked beside me. She kept her head down with each step. I touched her shoulder. She still didn’t look up.

  “Hey.”

  She muttered something that sounded like yeah under her breath.

  “Uh… I think… I think we’re going to be okay now.”

  Lana nodded, but she still didn’t look up at me. She probably needed a few minutes to collect her thoughts. I could respect that. We were down but not out.

  And pretty soon we would have something to eat.

  We reached the med wing. It was a beige brick building. There was a steel door chained with a padlock. Tom pulled a brass key from his pocket and undid the lock.

  “A little help?” he asked.

  It took me a second to catch his drift, but Lana snapped out of it and pushed against the door with all of her might. I followed her cue and put my back into it. The door opened with a groan.

  “Thanks,” Tom said between breaths. “Now pull.”

  We dragged the door shut. Tom twisted the lock and the chain to the inside and clicked the thing back into place. We were faced with two staircases, one heading up, littered with glass, the other leading down into darkness. I made a choice and started to head up. Glass aside, that’s where the classrooms and the equipment and the food had to be. I’d only made it up two steps when Tom tugged on my sleeve, and I saw him shake his head.

  “Other way, dude.”

  That didn’t make sense. Why head for a smelly basement when breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all rolled into one, had to be above?

  “Tom---”

  “We set up shop below. Better cover. Come on.”

  Tom took the lead again. I looked at Lana, and she shrugged her shoulders. She started after Tom, and I followed her into darkness and darkness and more darkness. The staircase angled this way and that until we reached the end. Tom reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small flashlight that was attached to his key ring. I saw another lock, and Tom undid it with the key that dangled just below the light. I moved to push again.

  “I got this one,” Tom said. This door opened easily, and we were inside. Once again Tom secured the door behind us.

  Med Wing 2.0. The light was dim but enough for me to make out the people. The past few days made me tense at the sight of them. Except for Lana and now Tom, everyone else I’d most recently scene were all vacant eyes and reaching hands. And gnashing teeth. I wished I had my bat. Could I really trust this group?

  “Hey, guys,” Tom said. “Reinforcements. And they’ve starved.”

  The group, made up of twenty or so students and a handful of what I guessed used to be professors murmured under their collective breath. I saw them look at me and Lana like they didn’t totally believe what Tom had just said. Another guy, kind of short, his glasses the largest thing about him, hopped off one of the beds that somehow fit into the room and approached us carefully. He stood two heads shorter than me and Tom. One head shorter than Lana. He looked from her to me and back again before he took Tom aside.

  “You sure?” he asked. His voice cracked when he spoke.

  “Yeah, man. It’s cool. He’s my roommate.”

  “You’re… roommate. I thought we had rules, Tom.”

  Lana shot me a nervous look. I could feel my stomach churning with something that wasn’t hunger. Was there like a pact that people they used to know were not to be trusted? That was bad news for me. Lana might have a better shot. I would have to struggle up the steps again and take my chances on the campus above ground.

  “I know the rules, Clay,” Tom said. “And if Sam here was turned, I’d have left him where I found him and never looked back.”

  But he did look back at me.

  “No offense, dude.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “None… taken. I guess.”

  Tom crouched down to Clay’s level.

  “But he’s cool. Come here, Sam.”

  I limped over to the both of them. My crooked leg drew more attention than my initial entrance. Everyone was on their feet. I was used to it. Suspicious glares. But they never felt like this. I saw fingers pointing and heard the whispers. I made out one voice accuse that I was already turning.

  Tom rose to his full height and waved his arms in the air.

  “No, no, no. Guys, he’s always been like this. He’s… he’s, you know, like kind of disabled. But he’s not a zombie.”

  Tom looked at me again.

  “Right, Sam?”

  I didn’t know if I should blast him for the label or thank him for just pointing out the obvious.

  “I…”

  The entire room, Lana included, waited for my answer. I had to make it the right one.

  “Sam?”

  “Right,” I said. “Cerebral palsy. Can’t help it. Born this way.”

  I expected the group to melt with forced sympathy at the hand I as dealt. It was only the stuff of my earliest memories. But this group seemed to just hear my explanation, absorbed it, and moved back to whatever they were doing before we arrived.

  That was different.

  And kind of nice.

  Tom was back in Clay’s face.

  “So we good?” Tom asked.

  Clay looked past me and locked eyes with Lana.

  “And what’s her story?”

  I started to reach for Lana. In my mind I started to run through ways I could defend her honor. I’d only imagined myself as far as forming a fist and punching Clay’s super smug face when a voice rang out.

  “I know her.”

  Another boy joined our smaller group. He was tall and tan and broad-shouldered. He flashed a perfect smile, and Lana cried out as she threw her arms around his thick neck.

  “Josh!”

  “Good to see you still human, Lana.”

  He lifted her off the floor in a great bear hug and pressed his nose to her hair. I watched him sniff and exhale and wondered if I still had an opening for inflicting grave bodily harm. Forget Clay. I’d target Josh.

  “She’s okay, guys. Come say hello.”

  Half of the group in the basement bounded forward and surrounded Lana with more hugs and a ton of kisses. Lana looked more relaxed than I had ever seen her with her found friends. They led her to one of the beds with questions and promises to check her out and get her fed.

  I felt like an idiot. Of course she was popular. That made sense. And so what ? I barely knew her. And it wasn’t like we had survived in the Economics building for days on end and formed some lasting bond. I’d known her for all of a few hours. So let her have her friends. Let one thing stay the same in this scary new world.

  Lana was someone who could never be my friend. Not even at the end of the world.

  I watched the rest of the room relax as Tom led me to another room. Two students and a professor followed. I saw milk crates set up like a table, and Tom invited me to sit. He didn’t need to ask twice
. Bad leg or not, I was exhausted. I took the makeshift chair as a plump girl, who would make excellent zombie fodder, reached for a shelf and started opening a can of corned beef hash.

  The canned stuff!

  I remembered a family vacation to Boston and a stop at a local pub. My dad had promised corned beef hash that would set hairs on end, and I could remember my mouth watering. But when the plates arrived, it wasn’t any kind of corned beef hash that I would want to eat. It was slices of meat mingled with a few potatoes. It wasn’t hash. It was hospital food pretending to offer sustenance.

  I knew a thing or two about hospitals.

  Despite the zombie threat, this was real food. The plump girl with really red hair fished a can opener out of a cardboard box. She dumped the can’s contents on a used paper plate and plopped it in front of me with a plastic fork. The fork was also recycled. I didn’t care. I ate like I’d never tasted food before. I had the hash in my mouth and down my throat in three heavy shovels and lifted the plate to my mouth to lick away whatever my fork had missed.

  “Whoa, dude!” Tom said. “Easy. Don’t want to just puke it all up.”

  I could hear Tom, but I didn’t care. I was hungry. I cleaned the plate with my tongue and set it down on one of the milk crates. I was kind of satisfied. But I could do it again in an instant. I gestured to the plump girl for seconds.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  I started to speak then started to cough. And gag. I had to focus on what Tom at just said. It was a meal. I didn’t want to waste it. I leaned back r and swallowed down air and bile until I felt that that hash was going to stay where it should and fuel me for whatever was coming next.

  I looked into the plump girl’s eyes.

  “Yes?” she repeated.

  “I… I’ll do this again,” I said. I’d take it slower this time.

  Tom patted my shoulder.

  “Sorry, dude. That’s as good as I can do.”

  I looked up at him like he was speaking alien. Or zombie. But Tom’s eyes were still alive. And this was supposed to be the safe zone. I expected food and medicine and security. What good was a safe zone if it couldn’t give me that ?

  “Tom, come on!”

  He shook his head again.

  “We gotta conserve, Sam. This won’t last forever.”

  I hadn’t even considered that. So somehow they got the food from the cafeteria and smuggled it here. But this wasn’t Star Trek with replicators creating endless cans of corned beef hash or beans or chicken noodle soup. So it had to run out someday.

  What then?

  I wiped my hash stained mouth with the back of my sleeve. The plump girl hovered over me with her hands on her hips. Her lips formed into a sad smile.

  “Sorry,” she said. “We’re all making sacrifices. Just look at me.”

  I got it. She probably left a stash of Snickers bars and Hostess treats under her mattress and dreamed of them until she was on the verge of tears. But if she could hunker down and survive on one helping a day, I could do the same.

  I looked at her.

  “Good for you,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  I saw her smile brighten.”

  “I’m Gabby.”

  I held my hand out to her. She took it slowly, and her shake was light but firm.

  “Gabby?”

  She nodded.

  “Sam.”

  “Yeah. I caught that.”

  Gabby winked at me as she moved to a filthy sink and rinsed out the can. I pictured her having to wash dishes night after night after the family who might already be turned cleaned their plates. Gabby had to resent but couldn’t entirely step out of the role.

  I guess old habits really did die hard.

  Someone called for Tom from the other room. He told me he’d be right back. And then he was gone. Gabby stayed at the sink, and I finally thought to acknowledge the others sitting at my table.

  There was a girl and an older man. The girl had caramel skin, buck teeth, and bugged out eyes. The professor was just starting to show wrinkles. He sighed and ran his hand across the surface of his thinning scalp. I started to talk, belched, and excused myself just as quickly.

  “Don’t, Kid,” the professor said. “Don’t apologize for eating.”

  I wondered if he’d say that if he was sharing a table with a zombie.

  “Okay,” I said. “But… but I’m still sorry.”

  The professor leaned across the milk crate.

  “Why?” he asked me.

  I watched Gabby toss the clean can into an overflowing trash bag. The group had been eating for days. I bet they ate heartily in the first moments safe in the safe zone. But somehow, someone, had to have thought ahead and told them to conserve. So they heeded the warning. But even with that, I could see an end to the solution as makeshift as the table we sat at.

  “Kid?”

  The professor took hold of my wrist. I figured he’d smile. He didn’t. He told me a story of his apocalypse with his eyes.

  I still leaned in closer. I wanted him to fill in the blanks.

  He closed his eyes before he spoke again.

  “All nighters don’t end after the diploma, Kid. I was in my office. Grading papers. Poorly written papers. So you want to make an argument for the Vegan lifestyle.”

  I certainly did in the wake of all that was going down.

  “So argue the point. Talk about animal rights and how it’s right for the agricultural aspect of society. Talk about health benefits. Don’t just take a stance that meat is murder and flood the page with a million reasons that make the same point over and over and over again.”

  First Year Comp. I hated writing the stuff. From the thesis statement to the final draft. I’d never thought about what it must be like to have to read my paper, let alone twenty-five.

  And if his class was back in session, there would be another argument that could be added to that paper in question.

  Meat is murder because WE’RE the meat.

  “Professor?” I asked.

  He smiled at me.

  “That’s over. Call me Neal.”

  Weird. But okay.

  “Fine. Neal. How did you get here ?”

  Neal smiled and started to tell me his story. Before he could get the words out, the girl at his side kicked a crate out from under her and started to whirl about the room as she held her head in her hands. Gabby forgot her dishes and tried to calm her flailing. I saw her whack Gabby away with too many poorly aimed fists to count. Neal straightened his tie and rose from his seat. He pulled the other girl away from Gabby and gently pressed her against one of the dark walls.

  “We’re dead, we’re dead, we’re dead !”

  Neal slapped her across the face. I couldn’t believe that the man still wearing tweed would do that to a current or prospective student. But maybe he was right. The time for those apologies was long gone. I watched the girl shake off the force of his hand and stare at Neal with terrified eyes. But she didn’t move.

  “Dead? Dead ? That’s past tense. Maybe we’re dying. Which suggests a chance of getting out of it. And we are going to keep with the present tense until we can’t.”

  First Year Comp. All the way.

  The other girl’s lip quivered, and I saw her start to cry. I could already see Neal hitting her again when I saw his shoulders relax. He folded the girl into an embrace and shushed against her ear. It was like Josh with Lana. Only somehow not as creepy.

  “I was in my office. They bashed the windows in. I don’t know why it happened. I just knew that I had to get away. Morgan?”

  I saw her sniff and struggle for a second or so. When Neal continued to hold her fast, I watched her give in to what he obviously wanted her to say.

  “I was in the dorm. The music stopped. There… was… blood. I… I… I…”

  What? Why couldn’t she finish the thought? I thought that it had to be so much worse than anything that I had yet to see since this started.

  “Morgan?”
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  And I heard Neal’s voice draw her back to the basement and now.

  “I saw my roommate. Kelly.”

  “What about Kelly?” Neal asked.

  “She… she ate the RA’s arm. She… she like chewed it off and sucked the meat off the bone.”

  “Like a leg of chicken?”

  Morgan nodded. I saw her on the verge of more tears. Neal pressed his face against her hands.

  “But they’re outside. And we’re in. You understand the difference. Correct?”

  Morgan looked at me. I didn’t know what she needed to see or hear, so I looked back at Neal. When he nodded, I knew enough to nod my head at Morgan. Her eyes turned back to Neal’s then lowered. Slowly. I could picture Neal hitting her again because she was slow to answer, but he wrapped his arms around her and patted her back.

  “Correct,” he said.

  Neal guided Morgan to the doorway. Another girl was already there, waiting, and I saw her take Morgan into her waiting arms.

  “Just stay calm, Morgan,” she said. “We don’t want them to know that we’re here.

  Neal seemed sad as Morgan went, but he resumed his seat. Gabby returned to her sink.

  “Sorry,” Neal said. “As far as we can tell she’s the only survivor from Ferry Hall. She… she actually fell into me, and we found our way here.”

  I wanted to know what had happened between the fall and here.

  “How---?”

  Neal sighed.

  “It’s too much to tell,” he said.

  Now I was even more scared. If it was too much for First Year Comp, we were not dying.

  We were dead.

  I reached for his hand.

  “Neal?”

  “We have to try to keep it down,” he said. “Second night we were in here, Morgan wasn’t the only one carrying on. In fact, everyone was.

  Gabby turned the water off and leaned against the sink.

  “Including you, Prof.”

  I was prepared for Neal to twist on his milk crate and toss her an I was not. So I was surprised when Neal just closed his eyes tight. He looked like he was remembering something. Something horrible.

  “Including me,” he said as he kept his eyes shut. I felt like I was on a lawn at an outdoor concert, trying to leap up with my good leg and catch the set on the main stage. But I couldn’t jump very high, and a group of bulky guys were blocking my view. That used to be one of my definitions of horrible. Now I just wanted Neal’s point of view from the second night.