THE FIRST THING THAT NATHANAEL NOTICED WHEN HE FELL WAS THAT HE WAS NOT DEAD. As he was falling, his bag had dropped off and broken his fall.
He was rescued from a broken neck but his décolletage did not appreciate the fall. His neck seared with pain but he ignored it. The surrounding zombies, instead of attacking, stood and watched to see what he would do next. Apparently, they were aware that a normal human being could not have survived that fall. Maybe he was one of them.
For several minutes, he did not move. Perhaps he could stay there and pretend to be dead until they went away. He carefully glanced up and saw, in their blank eyes, that they were prepared to wait all night if they had to. Nathanael knew that one badly timed bodily function, like a fart or an overwhelming burp, would alert his predators of his living status. He made up his mind to do the wise thing… and run like hell!
He jumped up and ran across the quadrangle. Instead of joining the pathway, which was now swarming with the undead bodies of seventh and eighth graders, he continued forward to the sloping cliff face that led down to the playing field. The zombies gave chase but they were still slow and could only run for a few meters at a time before stopping to catch the breath that they did not have. It looked more like recharging than respiring.
He began jumping down the jutting rocks. On a normal Tuesday, jumping down theses to get to P.E. class was a breeze. Running for his life from a horde hungry zombies threw off his foot-eye coordination and he reached the bottom flat on his face.
There was not time to feel pain. He stood up and looked for a place to run. Where he had landed was the cemented area above the field. There were not any zombies on the field area from what he could see but they were climbing over the cliff fast. A hundred meters from where he stood was a small building that was the office of the Physical Education teachers. He could hide in there. Before running, he actually began to wonder if it was wise to trap himself in a confined space. Then again, his choices were to prolong the agony or be torn apart in the open. No question.
He lit a blazing trail from the cliff to the office and dived inside. He shut the iron gate and bolted it. He exhaled heavily. What was going on? This was not the world he knew! In his world, the dead stayed dead. In the world he knew, life was a crappy place but it worked out for him. He passed his classes, he had a girlfriend, he had a complex social network. What happened to his world? Zaneiki must have done something. He did not know how and he did not know what, but Zaneiki must be responsible for this.
He shook those thoughts from his head. This was serious; he had to think of a way to get off the school compound. He sat down and thought hard about a plan but nothing came to him. He was at a loss. He was going to die. He just knew it. He was going to die. Those things were going to eat him. He was going to die.
He was still thinking those thoughts when the zombies began to bang on the door.
ZANEIKI HAD ONLY FELT FEAR ON VERY FEW OCCASIONS IN HIS LIFE. This was one of them.
He had watched Resident Evil and he knew what zombies were capable of. They were strong and could multiply faster than rabbits. They were near immortal and resistant to pain. But they were not real. Countless hours studying the Bible told him that, yet here he was standing face to face with a one-armed man in street clothes.
The zombies had broken down the grill of the classroom and were filing in. The boys in the class, who were possibly the most violent species on the planet, backed away in fright. All except Zaneiki. He was rooted by fear. All his life, he had dreamed for normality to take a hike but now that it was happening before him… He was downright awestruck.
The one-armed zombie walked slowly up to him. He stared Zaneiki dead in the eyes before lunging forward. A metal chair sailed from the outskirts on Zaneiki’s vision and struck the creature. The resulting force of the chair threw it to the side but it was evident that it was unhurt.
Zaneiki was snapped out of his trance-like state and looked to see who had rescued him. It was none other than the very person that made him nervous, Travis Gooden. He grinned at Zaneiki hoping to see a sign that his friend appreciated what he did. Zaneiki managed a weak smile but no one would give him any marks for enthusiasm.
The chair Travis had thrown had broken an invisible wall. The 9 Jacksonites began to throw all the surrounding loose chairs at the zombies and overturn the connected desks. Their bravery, however, was in vain. The zombies took what was coming to them without feeling and pushed onwards. That was when the bloodshed started.
TRAVIS GOODEN WAS NOT GAY. He was aware that everyone thought that he was, especially Nathanael, but he knew the truth. Jaúnelle also made snide remarks at his masculinity and his sexuality but he that they were only jokes. Who knew, maybe deep down Jaúnelle really admired him.
Travis liked Zaneiki, not in a sinful way but in a friendship way. Even in primary school, he was not popular. Maybe graduating to Cornwall College was the worst mistake of his life. In grade seven, a few of the more… upscale boys had made him the constant target of their insults. Jaúnelle, who he had seen as a potential friend, turned out to be no better. Worse actually.
There was more than one occasion that he had contemplated suicide. He read the Bible prayed a few times and then he was okay again, ready to face a new day. Then he had his self-confidence shattered all over again. His first friend had been Zaneiki Jarrett.
He did not remember exactly how it had happened but he knew that he was happy that it did. After Zaneiki was Clifford Gardener and Brandon Bowen and a few other boys had begun to warm up to him. Nevertheless, Jaúnelle was true to his nature and left the room whenever Travis came close. He had Nathanael had grown from being mere thorns in his side to being the banes of his everyday school life. There were a few times that Jaúnelle had actually tried to subdue his viciousness and talk to Travis but it always ended in the same result. Him getting frustrated and storming out. Nathanael? He never even considered talking to Travis. The latter had grown contemptuous of the previous and began to retaliate whenever verbally abused. However, Travis was not fluent in insulting people and could only wield the one nickname that Nathanael had: Piglet. But he was creative, mixing as many variations as possible. Despite all this, he remained at the bottom of the social ladder.
Travis was as loyal as Lassie when it came down to Zaneiki. He enjoyed every word that he said, not because it was interesting but because he was the one that saved him from damnation by loneliness. It was this thought that he had had in his mind when he assaulted the zombie.
Zaneiki had hurt him a couple of times but he knew that Zaneiki liked him. It was this thought that he had kept in his mind as the undead masses descended upon him.
ALEX ROWE WAS A FIRM BELIEVER IN REALITY. Oh, he loved the supernatural, he lived and breathed anime, but he had come to terms with the common Earth. You see, Alex knew that men did not fly, that men did not shape shift and that men most certainly did not walk after dying.
But here they were.
When found strangest of all was that he was not scared. It was all just like a TV show to him. Was Travis just eaten? Now he’s a zombie! Wow, what a twist! These zombies are really cool but the graphics need a little work. Oh, these are real, by bad. Donkey in trapped in a corner? What else is new? Is that a zombified Roger? I’d better move.
He stood up slowly. It was not until he felt the death grip of the zombie that he received the full comprehension of what was going on around him. He snatched up is pen and stabbed his zombified friend five times in the eye. Though it was not enough to kill him, Roger let go and put his hand up to his injured eye. He shrieked in pain and tried to ease it by slapping himself.
Alex looked at him in incredulity. Zombies don’t feel pain, do they? That was probably because the pen hit his brain. So, the only pain they can feel is in their brains? That seems legit. Wait a minute. Is that a goddamned zombie. Huh? I’m surrounded.
He jumped up on the table. He did not usually stand on the tables but this was a desperate occasion. Sacrifices had to be made. Besides, looking at his surroundings, which teacher would actually opt to give him detention? He proceeded to walk gingerly toward the gate that was thinning out as much of the zombies were either on the outside or on the inside. As soon as he began to step to another desk, a zombie pulled him to the ground.
He plummeted into the crowd of waiting creatures. He began to struggle but there were just too many. Was that Eashwayne who had his arm? Who had his foot? He thrashed around harder than ever and suddenly he was on the ground. He had not been bitten, he did not think. He began to one third crawl one third slither and one third charge his way through the throng.
He could soon see the light of day coming from the door that was apparently ahead. He began to move faster, elbowing zombies and the few living aside. He was going to make it. Just a little more… something grabbed his foot and hit body crashed to the ground again. It began to pull he him back inside but he dug his fingernails into the ground. The problem with that was that the ground was solid stone and his measly fingernail did not even graze it.
He would have been killed for sure if somebody had not grabbed his hand. The person began to pull. Hard. So hard that Alex felt his own shoulder dislocate and he screamed in agony. The zombie that had his foot was not yet ready to give it up and pulled back. Because of the tug-of-war being had with his body, his foot got twisted and sprained. After what felt like an eternity, somebody began to win. Unfortunately, it was the zombie. Alex looked up at his rescuer but could not see his face due to the harsh glare of the sunlight. What he did see, however, were zombies attacking the boy. The boy had to shrug them off and push them away using one hand.
There was something slimy running up Alex’s leg and he hoped that it was not a tongue. He decided to make the other person’s work easier by kicking out at the zombie but that only made the person let go once. He grabbed Alex’s hand again and continued to pull. Then a miracle happened. Alex began to feel his shoe slip off. When it finally popped off, he and his liberator flew out the door and landed with a crash on the outside.
Wasting no time, Zaneiki, for that was indeed whom it was, righted himself but did not stand up. Instead, he began to crawl like a navy seal through the jungle of rotting legs. The smell was terrible, day old blood and flesh smelled a bit like the flatulence of a man who had been living off burritos for years. Zaneiki and Alex crawled quickly and ignored the hateful look that the zombies gave them. The zombies let them be as if to say, “Don’t worry, you’ll soon be dead anyway.”
When they came to the end of the corridor, Zaneiki stood up and climbed the railing. He jumped without looking back at Alex who followed.
What the hell? Alex wondered as it just registered to him what he had just done.
He looked down at the rocky ground below him. If the fall did not kill him then it would cripple him. What was the point of leaving the class anyway? The only thing that had changed was that now he would die in fresher air.