by Lee Dunter
Neither Ryan nor Kyle had moved. Everything had happened so quickly that they barely had time to register the attack. “No, you stupid bastard!” Ryan yelled, running to the door. Kyle stayed, dumbfounded. “Why the hell didn’t you look before you came in?” That made two dead people this morning. Three if you counted Kayla. Ryan opened the door and saw Bill in a pool of his own blood, throat and neck torn open.
Ryan, knowing he had to do something, froze. There was too much blood, too many things that belonged inside that were now out: a sight that no one outside of an emergency room should ever see. Instead of doing something productive, he bent over and puked. He fell to his hands, puked again, and waited there for certain death.
Two shots were fired, an exploding echo in the hallway. Ryan looked up. A moment later, Roe stepped out of the teachers’ room with a pistol in his hand and blood splattered on his pants and shoes. Joe and Albert followed him. The zombie looked up, grimaced furiously, and charged towards them. Roe held his fire, waiting with his gun raised. The thing lumbered closer and closer, quickly narrowing the distance, and Roe held position. Ryan cringed, fearing that Roe had waited too long, but when Roe pulled the trigger, the zombie collapsed with her face littering the leather of his shoes.
Behind Ryan, Kyle slowly opened the cafeteria door and stepped out. He remained still.
“How the fuck did this happen?” Ryan muttered, burying his face into his arms. He had been leader for less than a day and already blood stained the halls. Had he caused this to happen? This was the second time those around him had inexplicably turned into zombies. Would it happen again? He needed to push these thoughts aside. Now, he had to be their “fearless leader.”
Ryan faked bravery as he went to the others, wondering if he really could appear brave when walking away from a pool his own vomit? When he reached them, he noticed the hurt on their faces. Everyone had aged ten years in minutes, Dark bags under grief-stricken eyes.
Albert muttered something and walked back into the teacher’s room. Joe then said, “How could we let this happen . . . if we had not bothered them, they would all still be alive.”
Ryan was alarmed by the words, but he knew they were true. It feels like I just led another Columbine massacre, he thought, looking at the dead bodies. He fought to keep the sobering truth from his mind: There was nothing I could’ve done, he told himself. Nothing. This happened when I was asleep.
Joe lowered his voice to a whisper: “The kid had to shoot the other zombie. I shot Miss Jackson. She was already dead, but we had to . . . so she wouldn’t come back.”
Ryan wrinkled his brow. “Wait. There was another zombie? And Miss Jackson is dead?”
Joe opened his mouth to speak, but then he just nodded.
Ryan felt lightheaded, so he leaned against the wall, putting his hands on his knees. “But I just saw her five minutes ago. She was fine.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Roe said. “It was Tavaris. He was infected.”
Ryan closed his eyes to clear his mind. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. But they had work to do. “We need to get this place cleaned up. We can’t let Jaden see his grandfather like that.” Ryan pointed at Bill’s leaking body. “Then there’s the matter of the infection.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Roe said gloomily, his eyes wet. “It has to be done.”
“Oh, and, uh, another body. In the cafeteria.”
Roe nodded, a grave look on his face. “That too.”
Roe fired the third, and then the fourth and final shot.
After dividing the tasks, the twins went to the cafeteria, muttering to each other, and Kyle went to be with Jaden. Before he began to clean, Ryan wanted to check on Cam, who had just shot a man that was his comrade only one day earlier. Ryan bet he was taking it hard.
Suddenly Ryan was greeted with another horrifying question: is the baby alive? He made himself walk as he went to Tavaris’s classroom, his head swarming with visceral images. At the door, he saw the baby lying in the corner, completely still and silent. He walked halfway and stopped, his nerves shot and palms sweaty, unsure if he could handle what was ahead. The baby was wrapped in Tavaris’s white shirt, which hid the baby’s features from Ryan. He waited, staring, picturing what horrible concoction the virus and the young blood could have formed. He stepped forward, reached down and picked up the baby. A pungent awful. The shirt was warm and wet . . .
Urine, poop. The smell was unmistakable. And the baby was taking in slow deep breaths. He was alive, and, maybe just as important, asleep. How the baby had evaded the appetites of his undead parents was beyond Ryan. Although not religious, Ryan saw the hand of God in keeping the infant alive. Nothing made sense in this new world. As he held the baby in his arms, his emotions became strong. It was one thing to shoot strangers, but to shoot friends was another thing altogether. Tavaris and Kayla had fought with them; they were all supposed to survive together. Despite these emotions and despite wanting to, Ryan could not shed a tear. He was standing there as such, rocking the baby, when he suddenly realized that he had forgotten the baby’s name. He wondered if anyone remembered. This thought took his mind away from the carnage of the morning, and Cam again surfaced. Ryan, searching for Cam, left the room and found him cleaning the teachers’ room with Albert. The smell of disinfectant was pungent. Both Albert and Cam had a mop in their hands, silent as they swept with languid motions. The bodies of Tavaris and Miss Jackson had been moved to the door.
Cam looked up. “Oh, hey,” he said somberly. He returned to his mopping.
“Found these in the Janitor’s closet,” Albert said, kicking the mop bucket.
Ryan carefully shifted the baby’s weight. “Cam, you know you don’t have to do th–” Ryan began.
“Shut up. I know I don’t have to, but I gotta do something.” His voice wavered, and he choked back tears. Ryan remained silent. He watched them for a few more moments and then left them to their task.
Ryan decided to give the baby to Kyle so that he could clean the hallway. On the way to Kyle and Jaden, Ryan saw the shadow of a face appear in the window of a door. It was the Bennet’s room. Ryan paused and stared, and the shadow suddenly disappeared. As he realized what had happened, Ryan filled with fury, and his temples pulsed with blood. The Bennets had been hiding in their room the entire morning. Had their selfish minds even considered helping? He ripped the door open, and inside the Bennets were lying on the ground, pretending that the slam of the door had just woken them.
“What’s happening? What’s going on?” Mrs. Bennet stammered.
“You cunt!” Ryan yelled. The word, one that he was not raised to say, tasted bitter in his mouth, came course off his tongue. But a fury controlled him now, a passion he had only felt back in the chaos of the gun store when he had almost attacked Kyle and Albert. Where had this bravery and this ability to speak what was on his mind been his whole life?
“You will not talk to her like that–” Mr. Bennet began, standing up. Ryan cut off his words by kicking him in the face. Mr. Bennet, gripping his face, fell backwards. Mrs. Bennet wrapped her arms around him, as if that would protect him.
Ryan didn’t know what to say. It was ironic. All of his life, he had many things to say, things that could have made him more friends, gotten him more dates, made him a different man, if he but had the bravery to speak them. Now that he had the bravery, he struggled to find something to say.
“Life is a bitch,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“Get out! Get out of this building! Now!”
Cam and Albert appeared at the door. Across the hall, Kyle shut his door to mask the yelling.
“What?” she asked, leaning back in fear.
“You heard me. Get out! You selfish, soul sucking little pig!”
“You don’t mean that,” Mr. Bennet Protested through a swollen, bruising mouth.
“We’d die out there!”
“I don’t care. It’s what
you deserve.” Ryan advanced on them.
“Ryan,” Albert said. “You need to calm down. We can’t do that.”
Ryan whirled, advanced on Albert, towering over him. “Oh, can we not? Are you the leader here? Did I ask for your, oh, how did you put it, cluster-fucked opinion?”
Albert looked down at his feet. Ryan thought he had won the argument.
“No,” Cam said. “We won’t let you. It’s murder, you’ll regret it.”
“Like hell I will.” As soon as the words left his lips, he stopped. What was happening to him? If having the bravery to speak up meant turning into a complete asshole, then he wasn’t sure he wanted it. Was the outbreak changing him, he wondered, or had this anger always lurked inside? As he reflected, he supposed the anger was always there, but it was now under a magnifying glass. Still, he knew he couldn’t excuse this selfishness. He looked for a way to gain control without becoming a fearful tyrant.
“You’re right, Cam. I would,” he said, breaking the silence. “Here, he’s yours now.” Ryan held out the baby, who woke during the movement and began crying. Mr. Bennet stuttered, surprised by Ryan’s sudden change in temperament. “The baby,” Ryan clarified. “He’s yours to take care of now.”
Mrs. Bennet protested. “But we’ve never had a baby. We don’t know what to do with it.”
“I actually was a baby just a few years ago,” Cam said. “It can’t be that fucking hard.”
Ryan ignored Cam. “This is your ultimatum. Take car of him or get out.”
The Bennets looked at each other with uncertainty. Mr. Bennet sighed and shrugged and said, “What choice do we have Marge?”
Sneering, she stood and looked into Ryan’s face. “None. Give me the damn thing.” She took the baby from Ryan, holding him with arms extended, like he would soon explode. She wrinkled her nose at his rancid smell. “What’s his name?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Ryan said. “Do any of you know?”
Cam and Albert shook their heads.
She looked at Ryan in disbelief. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Come along Donald.” Without waiting for her husband, she began towards the door, keeping the baby at arms-length in front of her. “There has to be diapers somewhere in this preschool. Let’s see, what’s a good name? Little, hmmm, Reginald. Yes, you look like a Reginald. And poor Reginald is desperate for a diaper change.”
Mr. Bennet had stood and met his wife in the hall.
When they were out of earshot Cam said, “Yes, Reginald. That’s exactly what I was thinking. That’s what all of the urban families are naming their babies these days.” All three laughed nervously, unsure if laughter was allowed in such a dark place. But with everything so dark, Ryan thought they probably needed to laugh extra. Laughter was the best medicine after all –assuming there was no cure to pass out.
The group went to work. They had bodies to dispose of, blood to mop up; the mess was both chilling and unsanitary. Meanwhile, someone had to entertain Jaden, and as Kyle quickly tired of the job Cam took his place. By that time Jaden was asking why he couldn’t leave the room, which was soon followed by claims of needing to pee. Cam blindfolded Jaden, threw him over his skinny shoulders, and pretended like Jaden was his hostage all the way to the bathroom.
After Kyle was relieved of Jaden, Albert tended to his stump. His wound had healed nicely, Albert told him, though he needed oral antibiotics as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the Bennets were being appropriately sobered of their selfishness with the quickest known cure: children. The infant had to be changed, and no amount of selfishness can ignore a baby swimming in its own waste. Inside the nurse’s office on the third floor, they found a closet full of diapers, wipes, and other useful supplies. It was lucky that they were in a preschool.
When they had cleaned the school and disposed the waste down the drains–Albert protesting, “This is not the proper way to dispose of biohazardous waste”–their final task was to discard the dead bodies. Their entrance the night before had attracted many zombies, and the morning chaos had brought even more; they couldn’t take the bodies outside.
The zombies surrounded all sides of the school, beating their fists against the walls and glass, their drumming a rhythm-less cacophony that became deafening as the group carried the bodies to the bottom floor. They dropped the bodies in an empty classroom at the rear of the school. As Ryan looked at the dead bodies, smelling the putrid stench of death, listening to the undead outside beating their fists bloody at a chance to get in, his stomach knotted in terror. Is this what life had become?
As they left the room and closed the door, Ryan saw the playground through the back exit. He frowned. The zombies slumbered through what was meant for the young and innocent, a terrifying sight, but one that also made him realize that he had not seen a single zombie child. Could it be that children are more resilient to the virus? It was an interesting thought, but he kept it to himself, too exhausted for another science discussion.
As late afternoon approached, everyone became hungry. Bill had been right, Ryan realized as he stood in the kitchen and looked at the boxes of school food–frozen pizzas and biscuits, instant eggs and cheese sticks, frozen vegetables and fruit–the food would soon be gone. To Ryan’s surprise, Mrs. Bennet volunteered to cook the last of the biscuits and instant eggs. While she cooked, the others picked through the food and found what had rotted without refrigeration. In the kitchen, waiting to eat, helping Cam separate the spoiled food, Jaden asked about his grandfather. Everyone avoided his innocent eyes so as not to spill the truth. Mr. Bennet answered Jaden, telling him that Bill left because the police needed him for a special mission. This excited Jaden, and he probed Mr. Bennet until the food arrived. I never doubted politicians are good at lying. At least they’re good for that. They ate the tasteless food in silence, and then finished the remainder of the snacks.
The post-meal conversation immediately turned to the lack of supplies: the food was gone, and the ammunition supply was low. Joe said it would be impossible to leave town in their current condition. And to get to the store, they would need the zombies to leave, so the meeting ended with nothing more than a hope that by morning the zombies would lose interest and wander away.
After this all but Ryan left the cafeteria. The Bennets returned to their classroom, hoping Reginald would nap. The twins collected the weapons to prepare them for the following day. Jaden convinced Cam and Kyle to play Pirates of the Caribbean, which involved Jaden and his fellow pirates shooting the monsters that had gathered outside. Both surprised and impressed, Ryan wondered when Jaden had discovered what was happening outside these walls. At least he had found a way to make it fun.
Albert stood last, mumbling something to himself and then leaving the cafeteria. He’s acting odd. When Ryan thought about it, he remembered Albert being standoffish all day.
Ryan was now alone in the cafeteria, a state that he feared as much as he feared another zombie attack, for his thoughts were no less dangerous than what waited outside. Just like the zombies, though, fearing their presence didn’t stop a horde of them. He spent his time pondering the outbreak. Was it possible that the undead would wring all life from humanity and become the dominant force on earth? The only advantage humans had was their ability to plan and scheme, Ryan thought. And we better fucking utilize it before they learn how too. He again thought of Deborah. How had she become infected? It was seemingly impossible that someone came in or left the apartment, yet he had awoken to an infected bride. The parallels between her infection and Tavaris and Kayla’s infection were painfully apparent. Was he at fault for both? He felt like he was, but he dismissed the thought for fear of going completely insane. Did someone let a zombie in the school on purpose? he suddenly thought. The implications of this were too horrible to explore further. No one would do that. I’m just tired and stressed out, that’s all.
Ryan knew he couldn’t rest until he had an explanation. His mind raced after answers. I need to know when they were bitten, he decided. Deborah
had most likely had been bitten at the festival, Tavaris and Kayla while fleeing the city. Was the answer really that simple? If so, why had he not seen bites on Deborah, and why did she not say something? He had no other choice but to accept these scenarios for now, the weak explanations giving him a trickle of peace.
His only remaining concern was tightening security. The school was designed to keep the kids in a safe environment, and it did well keeping the zombies out. And if somehow zombies did break in, the group could pick the undead off as they crammed into the single tight staircase. Ryan was pleased with the school’s defenses; however, people, both current and future, needed to be inspected more strictly for infection–any measure in lieu of another bloodbath. Finally, Ryan decided that all doors needed to remain shut at night, as none of the deaths in the school would have happened with this rule in place.
With business tended to, Ryan’s thoughts drifted to Deborah. Thinking of her hurt worse than anything he’d ever experienced, a soul crushing hurt that caused him physical chest pain. It was cruel having to grieve in between zombie attacks, but that’s what life was giving him. His body shook in chills when he thought of never hearing her laugh again, seeing her smile again, touching her skin again, embracing her again. Everything they had ever done flashed before his eyes–every date, every fight, every kiss–which only made him miss her more. Yet before he could manage a tear, he fell asleep, and when he woke, his cheeks were moist and hot. Had he sweat or cried in his sleep, he wondered, hoping that he had cried; not crying yet made him feel like a callous bastard. He left the cafeteria as the sun outside was waning. He missed his cell phone, which had served as his watch in the last few years. Time hardly seemed to matter now, but it still felt odd not knowing it.
