by A. Rosaria
She swung the door shut and stomped away. He came running after her while Anna yelled for him to come back. He didn't. Instead, he grabbed Sarah's arm before she could turn down the hallway to their left.
“Babe, don't be mad. It meant nothing to me. I was mad and one thing led to another.”
She couldn't believe the shit dropping out of his mouth. It shamed her to think that she once liked kissing him. Her stomach turned as he continued to spit out manure-laced words. If he kept at it, she would puke.
“You made me mad; you made me do this to myself, to us. I didn't want this, but you didn't come after me. You let me go with her alone. What else did you expect?”
The shame she felt only kept growing. She was ashamed that she allowed this to happen. She cut her eyes from him and looked into the light swallowing the darkness. She would rather be there.
A high-pitched scream rang from the room they left.
“Shit,” Jake said. “They got her.”
Anna. She had closed the door, how...Jake, of course, had left it open. “We need to save her!”
“Are you crazy? She will be dead by the time we get there.” He pulled her back. “We need to get to safety.
Anna cried for help. Terror trembled through her voice. Sarah yanked herself free and pushed Jake away. She hurried to help Anna and cared less if he followed her or not. The door was wide open. The desperate cries came from within. The moans and growls were frantic. Sarah rushed inside the room. Anna lay on the desk. Eyes white with fear. One zombie in soldier’s fatigues was chewing her thigh, blood spurting with each bite. The other bit a chunk of her breast. Anna howled in pain. She was dead; Sarah knew that. Yet still, the urge to run in and pull them off her was great. Anna's eyes found hers. They filled with hope. She yelled her name, for her to help her, but Sarah couldn't, wouldn’t. She couldn’t help or she would be next to her on that table.
Sarah grabbed the door handle and slammed the door shut. She heard footfalls behind her. The jerk had returned, at least he had done that. She couldn't help smiling; old habits died hard. She turned around. A zombie in a hazmat suit bore down on her. He pressed her against the door. It tried to chew her cheek, but the plastic visor he wore prevented its teeth from getting to her. A thin sheet of plastic saved her. Her heart bounced in her chest. She struggled to get loose, but the force he used didn't give way.
One thing she remembered on the few obligatory self defense lessons all the girls had to take by per the school board was that once grabbed, you had to let go and use your weight to get free of the assailant. She dropped. The zombie didn't hold her; she slid down to the floor. The zombie bashed against the door. Its hands flapped around, trying to get hold of her. She pushed herself between its legs, causing it to lose balance and trip over her.
Just in time, she stood to see another one come her way. They were coming from the stairs. Her face turned pale, realizing that they could climb stairs. Granted, it was slow and unbalanced, but they could climb them. One reached the top and another one was just behind. She ran to the zombie and kicked it in the stomach. The zombie fell backward onto the one behind it. They tumbled down the stairs. She heard a loud crack when the one she kicked hit its head on the tiled floor.
She ran back the way she came, not daring to look behind her to see if the zombies were following her. Out of breath and near her wits end, she reached the classroom. Jake waited in the hallway.
“You're alive.”
“No thanks to you.”
“I was about to go look for you...I waited for you. I didn't give up, you hear me!”
No, he hadn’t given up but he hadn’t tried to save her either. Did he ever really love her? She hoped he did, or else everything these last few years was worthless. She wasn't a total fake, was she? A mean girl deserving mean things? Her lips trembled.
“Come on. We need to get to safety before any of those things comes this way.”
Jake walked to their classroom, not the one they had taken refuge in after George’s attack, but the one the George zombie was still waiting inside. Wouldn't it be poetic justice if he ate Jake? It would make a nice end to it, and he kind of deserved it. Anna was just a silly girl. Sarah couldn't blame her. It was Jake who had taken advantage of Anna and her. His hand was on the handle. If she kept silent, it wouldn't really be murder. Her palms sweated.
“Jake, stop. George is in there.”
He looked annoyed. She immediately regretted warning him. It slowly dawned on him what she meant, and he let go of the handle as if it was a burning, red hot coal.
“Of course, he's a zombie. Fat guy probably too. Guess I hit him too hard after all. No big loss there.”
Emotions had left her; once again, she had made a mistake and hoped this was the last one she would make. She entered the other classroom and sat next to Lilly. She joined her in staring at the whiteboard. For now she was done with it all and wanted to rest. Come morning, she would try to get away. Staying here meant they would be picked off one by one, and if she had to die, it would be only after she knew her mother's and brother's fate.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ralph had locked the door of the office, or construction shack as Norm called it. He had not dared to turn the lights on. He was afraid he might attract any zombies that happened to wander in the neighborhood. He would hate to end up trapped in this cramped space surrounded by a hungry heard of shambling dead. He locked the door.
Nothing eventful happened. He woke up with the sun streaking the clear sky. Red rays chased away the last signs of darkness. It was a beautiful sight. A sight he might have enjoyed under different circumstances. He was sick with worry for his family. He only slept as well as he did because he had been exhausted, which had left his body stiff and sore.
He crouched, not daring to stand and risk being seen. He peeked out. No one, not a soul, dead or alive. Great. He wondered if Norm had made it wherever he was headed. If what had happened here was happening everywhere, there wouldn’t be much life left anywhere. This thought didn't help him with his worries. He had better hurry and get on the road home.
He gave the wall phone near the door an angry look. Much help that was. It was the first thing he had tried before locking up. Not even a tone. Norm had lied or the line had been cut. He searched the office. He found a few car keys in the jackets hanging on hooks near the door. In the back, in a toolbox, he grabbed a nasty looking hammer. The room was bare for an office. A table, four chairs, a Nescafe coffee machine, the toolbox in the back, a calendar with today's day marked as fuck off day. It seemed the company really had laid off Norm and his coworkers, the bastards. Not that they would ever work again. It wasn’t as if the zombies had a union. They also didn’t need to pay for food when all they had to do was catch it. Norm, the bastard who had left him stranded, must have had something else on his mind other than worrying about his job.
Ralph opened the door, expecting to be jumped by a zombie hiding behind it. It was safe and eerily silent. He looked around. The houses were beautiful. They were large mansions, houses that when the economy was booming went before the plans hit the designer’s desk. Not much need for these anymore. It seemed to have been part of a larger, gated community project, but only these houses were built. Norm was right; the higher ups should have canceled the project. As it was, without infrastructure nearby, like a mall, no one would want to live here. The closest attraction was the newly created fire pit of discarded buses and the humans in it. Come burn ye humans.
Ralph’s face soured. Remembering the pit brought back the previous day, and with it Lauryn's face. He had left her to die. His mind fought against it. She could still be alive, but he knew how unlikely that was. Even if the flu didn't get her, the zombies would. There was no way the helicopters got them all. He felt an urge to go back and look; after all, he had promised her that he would. If he found her alive, he knew for sure it made sense to return home. If not...he didn't want to think about it.
He walked around the struct
ure to where an old, rusted sedan and the van he saw the night before sat; a motorcycle was nestled between them. The sedan looked like it might fall apart, so it was a pass. The bike would expose him to foreign entities that liked to chew on humans, and he had no idea if he could ride a motorbike. The van was really more of a truck—a 2003 Ford model e-series wagon. A bigger car than he had ever driven before. His car was a two-door hatchback. He would have to manage, not that he really had a choice.
He picked the key with the Ford logo and threw the others on the ground. No one had any need for them anymore. The truck was well maintained; the interior was meticulous clean, no rusts or dents. You would never expect this to be a construction worker’s car. He expected it to be covered in mud and equipment strewn all over. Two baby seats were in the back. His heart wrenched. It felt wrong taking the car. It felt worse knowing that these kids would never again see their dad or know what happened to him. He shook his head. He couldn't afford to think this way. He had to get to the pit and find Lauryn.
The engine started in one go. The fuel meter showed it was three-quarters full; it should be enough to drive home. He turned on the dirt road toward the main road. Norm had gone to the right; he went left.
He was the only one driving on the roads. There was not a soul in sight, and it couldn't be any other way with the roads being closed off by the military. The construction workers most likely had been here since before they closed the roads, passed through in the nick of time, though not fast enough to not catch the flu. Eventually, he would have to get around the roadblocks and he would figure out later how he would do that. It didn't take him long to reach the charred remains of the buses.
Getting out the truck, the odor of charred meat hit him. He retched and fell on his knees in front of the car. What little he ate that morning—a chocolate bar he had found—gushed out his mouth in a sour hot stream. He knew from where that smell came. He could see the carbon bodies hanging from the buses and strewn around, baked more than well done by the explosions the day before. The walking dead and those still alive were both charred by destruction from above. The area was now a haphazard cemetery lined with steel coffins for miles. It was a cemetery and he was the sole visitor.
He made his way to the pit. The fire must have gone out during the night, because only thin lines of black smoke found its way up. The bus he was transported in had turned into a melted hunk of metal. No one inside survived but him and maybe Lauryn. Anton, the jackass jock extraordinaire, was dead and would never harass him or anyone else again. Not that there would be any schools for the likes of Jake and Anton to pester him. Although, in this apocalyptic world, he was likely to attract predators much worse than the likes of Anton.
He retraced the path he took in his escape the day before. Down the decline to the ditch. He saw the plywood from a distance. Still intact and in place. He guarded his heart against hope and dread. He prepared for a corpse or worse; he shoved the cover aside. The spot was empty. He cast his eyes around his surroundings; there were no signs of her walking around. A smile broke out on his stern face. She made it. Zombies seemed to stick around the place they died. She was not around; she must be alive. His parents and little sis might also be alive.
His spirits lifted; hope again coursed through his heart. He walked back to his borrowed truck. Maybe, just maybe, things were not as bad as he thought. He left the place. For ten miles, he followed the line of destroyed buses and charred bodies. The sight dashed his newfound hope that it might not be so bad.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sarah woke up after only an hour of sleep. Jake sat in a corner, awake and staring at her. A stupid smile was plastered on his face.
“Like seeing an angel sleep and rise on a new day,” he said.
Really? He thought he could get her back with stupid one-liners? Outside, sunlight broke the dark sky. Before moving on and leaving the building, she had to find Vic and Mel. She had to try every classroom in this wing; elsewhere in the school was practically suicide to search. Most of the hazmat people were downstairs, and they probably were as dead as the one that found its way up and attacked her. She planned to go alone. She could rely on Zach, but she preferred he keep an eye on Lilly and Emily. She hoped Lilly was better now after some rest, but she could not count on that.
Zach and Les still slept with Lilly and Emily between them. Emily still snored. The only ones awake were herself in one corner and Jake in another. She went for the door, walking casually while his eyes followed her.
“Where are you going?”
She put her ear against the wooden door and listened for a while. Satisfied after hearing nothing move on the other side, she opened the door and stuck her head out. She looked at each side. Empty.
“Lock the door after me,” she told Jake.
She shut the door and walked to the classroom she had found Zach and Les in. She had better not miss any of the rooms. Behind her she, heard a door open and footfalls. She whirled around. Jake stood, smiling.
“I'm coming with you.”
She didn't want him to, but it was difficult convincing someone as dense as Jake and he was too big to make him listen with force. The door. He left the door open again. He had not learned from his mistake with Anna. Zach came stumbling out, looking bewildered around. He sighed when he saw them and then his face flushed with anger.
“Shut the fucking door when you leave the room.”
She wanted to explain, but Jake robbed her of the chance to do so. Sneering, he turned around.
“Shut the fucking door yourself and shut that big mouth of yours or I'll shut it for you, like I did Tommy’s.”
Anger blazed in Zach's eyes. He slammed the door and locked it. She wasn't sure he would open it if they came back and needed help.
The room was empty; from there, they went from room after room. Very carefully, she walked the hallway, keeping an eye out for the hazmat suit zombie. It should still be near the stairs, but he wasn't. He must have fallen or something. She was glad they didn't have to take care of it. It was harmless on its own as long it had the suit on, but she just didn't want to take any chances.
Each room was empty, even the ones she had met the sophomores and the group of eight. The sophomores had written on the whiteboard with permanent markers Going home, suckas. They had not believed her that shit had gone terribly wrong. God, did the soldiers get them or did the zombies? And where had Mel and Vic gone?
“See. No one left but us. We better leave soon,” Jake said.
A draft chilled her bare arms. She got closer to the window at the end of the hall that overlooked the schoolyard. It stood ajar. She pushed it open and was greeted by the low moans from the zombies walking bellow. Soldiers, hazmat men, teachers, Mr. Garlson, their biology teacher, were among them, and students. She recognized the sophomores. Badly mangled, they shuffled around. One was missing an arm. But, there was no Mel or Vic. From the window, a landing led to a fire escape. The ladder was pulled down.
“Let’s head back,” Jake said.
“Leave then,” she yelled over her shoulder.
She got on the landing. At the end, a ladder led up to the roof. She climbed up alone. Jake must have taken off, like she told him to. The roof was flat and at one end stood a square staircase access, mostly used by service people. There was no sign of anybody on the roof.
“Vic, Mel,” she yelled.
The only answer she got was the moans from below. She sighed. She knew it was to no avail but still she had to call out there names, despite seeing no one was on the roof. The fruitlessness of everything she did was getting to her.
The air was thick with a rotten smell and smoke. She was facing the highway. The school being close to one was one reason why the outside windows were soundproofed. Only loud sounds in the immediate proximity of the school had any chance of getting through. It kept the sound of the cars racing to whatever destination they went out of the classrooms. However, today the highway was empty.
She went
around the access, facing the city side. Her steps faltered. In a daze, she walked up to the ledge. As far as she could see, smoke rose into the sky, joining in one angry, dark cloud. Fires blazed in the center of the city last night, and it seemed no one was there to stop them. The roads ahead were littered with cars and bodies, while corpses shambled around in their eternally sloshed way of walking.
She heard a moan behind her. Sarah whirled around. Mel and Vic sat on the roof, their backs against the stair access, huddled together under a blanket. She felt her heart lighten despite the scare she had. Sure, she had seen zombies climb stairs before, but she doubted they could open a window and climb up a ladder; their motor skills didn't seem to allow that kind of range of movement.
“Guys, you had me scared there.”
A moan rose from the two and they stirred.
“Come on. This is not the time to play games.”
They stood up, swaying. Out of Vic's hand a medicine bottle fell. Sarah stared in horror at the empty bottle bouncing on the roof.
“No, no, no, no, not you guys!”
Their pale hands reached out to her. Slowly, the sheet slid down to reveal their dead eyes looking through her. She covered her mouth to muffle a scream, biting her hand to make sure this was not a nasty dream. She hoped it was; it couldn't be real. Last time she saw them, they were alive, together, and in love. Her teeth cut through her skin, drawing blood. It hurt. It was real, not a nightmare. They were getting closer. She stepped back. Her feet were on the edge. They burst forward; two pair of hands grabbed her; two mouths to tear her flesh apart. She sidestepped and shoved them as they tried to grab her. They fell over the ledge. She watched them tumble and smash on the concrete yard. Their skulls fractured, their limbs twisted, and they lay side by side, with their hands touching, on a bed of their congealed blood.
