When you get back to your home pad, you find your mother sitting at the dining room table, wringing her hands. "What happened today?" she asks, the familiar crease of worry forming above the frame of her eyeglasses. "I heard there was an outbreak?"
"Hello to you, too," you say, setting down your backpack and grabbing a Hydro-P apple from the fruit bowl. "It was nothing serious—just an un-D lunch lady."
"And a janitor, too, I heard. Were any students infected?"
"Probably," you say with a shrug. "But they have a serum for that now, I hear."
"Don't sass me, young lady. I can't believe this was allowed to happen. Don't they have eye scanners at the school entrances?"
"No, but they do in the subway, and they still got by those."
"Well, I'm going to call up that principal of yours tonight and give him a piece of my mind. Then we're going to find you a school that is safe."
"But I like it there!" you feel your chest getting tight with panic. Even with all the danger and drama, you fully enjoyed your first day of teenage freedom. And now you're not going to give it up without a fight. "Besides, Zeta High is the only school in the district. What are we going to do—move?"
"I don't know... maybe."
"SERIOUSLY?" you wail.
"Calm down," your mom says, throwing her hands in the air. "No decisions have been made yet. It was just a suggestion. We'll talk more about it when your father gets home."
"You're so not fair!" You stomp off to your room and slide the door shut as forcefully as you can. It only emits a quiet, unsatisfying click, so you kick it twice for added effect. Then you grab your laptop off your desk and flop down onto your bed. Checking your email, you discover an invite to join the Zeta High SurvivorNet page.
SurvivorNet was founded shortly after the pandemic began as a way for people to connect with missing friends and family members, but now sixteen years later it's populated mostly by tweens uploading silly photos and reposting the newest Alpha Sector gossip. There's nothing in the email about who sent the invite, but you're too excited to care. You click the link, and the page opens to the Zeta High wall, where anyone with access to the page can post publicly. Most of morning's messages are friendly and generic, like "Go Fire Ants!" or "Zeta High Rox." At 7:35am, DANAPREZ posted: "evry1 have a gr8 1st day!" After lunchtime, most of the messages either express condolences for victims of today's attacks or excitement that school was let out early.
"You're just about to click away from the page when you notice a post by Damien. At 12:35pm, DMNHARRIS posted: "Hey guys! Don't forget scrimmage practice is still on tonight!" You move your mouse to click on his profile when suddenly a small blue text box pops up in the corner of your screen.
Fecto12 wants to chat, it reads. You have no idea who Fecto12 is, so you click on the user's profile to find out who it is. But it's totally blank; no name, location, or hobbies are listed. Not even a birthday. Zero photos are in the photo album, and the avatar is just the default gray outline of a human. Fecto12's friends count, however, is 1,664. It could be a spammer or some weirdo perv trolling for young girls, but something in your gut tells you it's not.
You click CHAT, and a larger box opens in the middle of your screen.
Fecto12 says: Nice work today.
It must be someone from school—maybe the same person who invited you to join the Zeta High page? You type a message back.
GIJen says: Who is this?
A couple seconds later,
Fecto12 says: I think you might be ready for the truth.
GIJen says: Is this Chase? You're not very funny.
Fecto12 says: Not Chase - but a friend.
GIJen: Who?
Fecto12 says: Patience, Jen Valentine. Have you ever heard of Project Tabletop?
GIJen says: What's that?
Fecto12 says: I was hoping you could tell me.
GIJen says: How would I know?
Fecto12 says: Maybe you should ask your dad.
Coincidentally, your dad's voice booms from the hallway at that very moment. "I'm home!" he shouts. "And I brought pizza!"
GIJen says: Gotta go
A flashing red text box appears on your screen, telling you your last message was undelivered. Fecto12 has already logged out. You shut your laptop and join your parents in the kitchen. "Hey, Daddy," you say as he kisses your cheek. "How was work?"
"Fine as usual, Pumpkin. I heard you had a little excitement at school today?"
"I guess," you say with a shrug. "It wasn't that bad, really."
"Not that bad?" your mother scoffs. "An infected janitor and an infected lunch lady attacked students today. Jen, set the table."
"Really?" Your dad's eyebrow raises curiously. "You weren't involved, were you, Jen?"
"I'm fine," you say, grabbing plates and napkins from the cupboard above the icebox. "Half the kids at school are experienced Baggers. And if you let me carry Opal, I'd be totally safe."
"You're not carrying a handgun, young lady." Your mom crosses her arms matter-of-factly. "You know what's safe? Home schooling. I've done a little research, and apparently there are programs for students who don't want to enter the public system..."
"You mean social regrets who are too lame to exist." You fling yourself into your chair dramatically. "Dad! Are you going to let her do this to me?"
"No one is doing anything to anybody until after dinner." Your dad opens the pizza box to reveal a big round pie dripping in soy cheese. The delicious aroma hits your nose and you realize you're starving. "So how about we have a little peace and quiet until then?"
"Fine," you mutter. You grab a slice and for the next couple minutes, there's rare silence in your family pod. At least until you can no longer stand it.
"Hey Dad, what's Project Tabletop?"
A flurry of coughs erupt from his throat as he nearly chokes on his mouthful of pizza. Read faced, he swallows and takes a careful drink of water, then slowly wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He seems in no hurry to answer your question. "Where did you hear about that?"
"Just something I heard on the Undernet," you say. "What is it?"
He studies a pepperoni before popping it into his mouth. "Well, it was a plan to repopulate the surface of the earth."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. It was never put into action. The original directive date for Tabletop was 14 A.Z, but that was scrapped back in '09 after it was deemed much to dangerous. Besides, the sector population is still thirty thousand below full capacity. It'll be decades before we face overcrowding and we have to start worrying about going back up there."
"But aren't you the least bit curious to see what everything looks like on the surface? I mean, you guys grew up there and everything."
"Sure I am. We all are. But Jen, you know that only the President can order an unsealing of the sector system. And that's not going to happen until we're one hundred percent sure it's safe—until your mother here finds a cure." He shoots your mom a wry smile. "And, young lady, if you're going to come home with your head filled with silly conspiracy theories and urban legends, maybe we should keep home schooling you."
"Dad!"
"Just kidding. Actually, I think it's a good idea if you carry Opal with you, just for the time being. I'll call in tomorrow morning and clear it with security."
"You can do that?" you ask, awestruck.
"If they want the daughter of General Valentine on their roster, they'll cooperate. You have a valid concealed weapons license, and I'd call this an escalated threat situation, wouldn't you? Just don't go waving it around to all your friends."
"I won't." You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him repeatedly. "Thank you, Daddy!"
"You're welcome. Now why don't you go do your homework? I have a feeling your mother is going to need a little more convincing on the subject."
When you get back to your bedroom, you log back onto your laptop and check your messages. There's another chat request from Fecto12. You click on it.
Fecto12 says: So? Did you ask him?
GIJen says: Yeah, it's some dumb rejected military plan. What's the big deal?
Fecto12 says: Is that the story these days? LOL.
GIJen says: Are you calling my dad a liar?
Fecto12 says: No, sorry. You're right—it's probably nothing. Talk to you later.
GIJen says: Later
You shut your laptop and open your Biology textbook, but you can't stop thinking about Fecto12 and Project Tabletop. You have no doubt that your dad was telling the truth. He's never lied to you, even about stupid kid stuff like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Still, something strange does seem to be going on with all the VMs.
On Friday, you're back in school with Opal tucked safely in your ankle holster. You promised your parents you'd keep it quiet, so you don't even tell Chase you have it. But first period comes and goes without incident, and you start to relax on your way to Biology knowing you'll be spending it sitting next to Damien. Class starts and Dr. Frankilin begins his lecture on Mendel's Law of Independent Assortment, but Damien's chair stays empty. The periods practically over when he finally enters the classroom holding a pink hall pass, his right arm in a sling. He smirks at a few of his buddies on the way to his seat next to you. Noticing your curious stare, he shrugs as he takes his notebook out of his backpack and begins copying down the diagrams from the board with his left hand. From the looks of his awkward scrawls, Damien must be a righty. When the bell rings, he tosses his pencil down in frustration.
"Hey, would you mind if I borrowed your notes from today?" He waves his sling and gives you a sad smile. "I'm pretty useless with this stupid thing."
"Of course," you say, ripping the pages out of your notebook. "What happened?"
"Just a dumb accident at practice last night. Stelled into a hole in the turf and fell on my shoulder. Doc says I tore a rotator cuff."
"Is that serious?"
"Nah. But it means I'm out of the game tonight."
"Whoa," you say, grimacing sympathetically. "That sucks."
"Totally. I guess I'll have to watch from the stands this year. You going?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. I guess I'll see you there. But I'd better get going. Gotta stop by the health office before lunch." He slings his backpack over his good shoulder and waves a handful of papers at you. "Thanks for the notes! I'll get them back to you tomorrow."
"No problem. See ya." You watch him disappear down the hallway and head to lunch. You make it through the lunch line without incident this time and find a seat with Chase and his friends. Dana's sitting in their usual spot with two trays. She looks annoyed, drumming her fingers on the table and scanning the crowd impatiently. But when Damien arrives a few minutes later, her attitude quickly changes to that of a doting girlfriend. She even attempts to feed him, but he swats her fork away eith his good hand.
"Earth to Jen," Chase says, snapping his fingers next to your ear.
"Sorry." You shovel a spoonful of applesauce in your mouth and try to bring your attention back to the conversation at your table.
"I totally hate watching movies edited for television," Tatum is saying. "They totally dub over all the best parts." They're still discussing how The Breakfast Club is vastly superior to Ferris Bueller's Day Off, just like they were when you first sat down.
"No way, that makes it totally hilarious!" Nick interrupts. "When Bender yells, 'Forget you?' Cracks me up every time."
"What about you, Dad?" Chase says, quoting from the movie.
"Forget you," Nick replies.
"No, Dad! What about you?"
"Forget! You!" Both boys shout this and exchange a high five, while Tatum rolls her eyes.
"Personally," you say, "I prefer Pretty in Pink. Except that Molly Ringwald's dad freaks me way out."
"Oh, totally," Caroline chimes in. "He's, like, an alcoholic single father with no job and he's actually nice? You just know in real life he's be smacking her around and making her dress up like her dead mom on their anniversary."
"I know. I saw that guy in another movie a while ago," you say. "He played Rip Van Winkle, and it was supposed to be for kids. Cree. Pee."
"Hello, nightmare fuel," Caroline laughs.
"God, you two." Tatum angrily stabs a French fry into her ranch dressing cup. "Can we change the subject already?"
"Sorry, Tate," Caroline says. You look at her curiously, but she just shrugs.
"Awkward silence..." Nick says under his breath. "So anyway, we're going to the scrimmage tonight, right? I'm telling you guys, it's going to be totally amazing."
Chase looks at you. "Wanna go?"
"Yeah."
"Fine," he shrugs. "Let's meet at five thirty in front of the school."
"All right!" Nick grins and moves in for more lip action with Caroline.
As the dismissal bell rings, Tatum pulls you aside. "What the hell is your problem?" she sneers.
"Uh..." It's become quite obvious she doesn't like you from some reason, but you never expected her to confront you so directly. "What do you mean?"
"Don't play stupid. First you're all over Chase like a fecto rash, now you're trying to steal my best friend."
Ah, so that's it—she's jealous of you.
"Hey, I can't help it if Chase and I have history. And if Caroline and I want to be best friends, you can't stop us."
"Oh yeah?" Tatum says, dropping her bag and balling up her fists. "You just try it, skank!"
A few students loitering around the cafeteria exit turn back around to gawk at the commotion. You prepare to dodge a swing from Tatum, but instead she reaches up and grabs a handful of your hair and tugs hard, nearly bringing you to your knees.
"Cat fight!" a boy yells, and in an instant you're surrounded by a mob of rubberneckers. You reach out to steady yourself, but your arm hits the soft belly of Mr. Nelson instead.
"Girls!" he says once he's recovered the breath you knocked out of him. "Gupta's office, now."
He marches you down the hall and deposits you at the Principal's desk.
"Ladies." Principal Gupta's voice is thick with annoyance. "I'm sure you're well aware there is not to be any fighting in school." You both nod. "Unfortunately, there are more pressing issues at hand at the moment." He slides two small white boxes across his desk.
"What's this?" you ask.
He pulls a microphone down from a nearby shelf and speaks into it. "Attention students." You can hear his voice echoing in the hallway outside. "I just received a report that there has been a massive outbreak of VMs in the Beta Sector High School. The official death toll is now at thirteen, with at least thirty other students infected. The entire sector is on lockdown in hopes that everything can be brought under control as soon as possible. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say our hearts here in Zeta Sector go out to everyone affected. I will keep you all posted if further details come to light. Until then, there is a bullet collection box going around to all the classrooms. Please consider donating to help out your fellow survivors. Thank you."
He returns the microphone to its shelf and sits back down behind his desk. "Miss Valentine will take the west corridor, and Miss Banks will take the east. Mark the classrooms off the list as you go. I've already got another student volunteer lined up for last period, so just return them to my secretary when the dismissal bell rings.
You're a little annoyed to be missing History class, but you figure it's better than after-school detention. As you go door to door collecting bullets, the students prove to be very generous. By the time you're done, the box is nearly overflowing. It crosses your mind that maybe no one would miss one or two. After all, you'd be using them to protect yourself, right?
The temptation quickly fades as you consider how selfish it would be to steal from other people's charity. You return the box and all its contents to Principal Gupta's secretary and head to your next class: PE.
You quickly make your way to girl's locker room to change into your gym uniform—a dingy gray t-shirt and soccer shorts three sizes too big. The girl standing next to you is already stretching, loosening her hamstrings by propping a leg against an open locker and leaning into it. She notices you watching her and smiles.
"Hey," she says, dropping her leg and jogging lightly in place. "You first year?"
"Yeah. I'm Jen."
"Grace." She reaches her hand out like she wants to shake yours, but then she wraps her other hand around her elbow to stretch out her shoulder. "I'm third year. You got bullets on you? You'll need them to participate in class."
"No," you say, checking your pockets. "Fresh out."
Grace notices Dana's invitation sticking out of your backpack and her face suddenly changes. "You might want to go join them then." She gestures towards a group of three girls, still wearing their street clothes, gathered together on a corner bench. One is painting her toenails while the other two hover over a cell phone screen, laughing. You've never seen these girls before, but you assume they're Royalty. "Or if you don't want to be a complete waste of space, you can run the treadmill the rest of the period. You'll need all the cardio you can get."
Suddenly, there's an urgent pounding on the locker room door. "Let's hustle, ladies!" a man's voice barks from outside.
"Well, that's the Coach," Grace says, pulling up her socks and giving you a wave. "Goodluck staying alive, kid."
You head off to the workout room to take out your frustration on an exercise bike until the period is over.
Fifteen minutes before the game starts, you and Chase meet up with Nick, Caroline, and Tatum outside the arena. You've never seen this many people in the same place at the same time before, but you're guessing the entire Zeta Sector has come out for the game tonight. The stands are quickly filling up with spectators of all ages, and they're already chanting along the cheerleaders on the field. There's an electric excitement in the air that even Chase seems unable to resist.
"C'mon," he says, tugging on your arm impatiently and pointing to the top of the section reserved for the current students. "I see a spot. Let's go before it's gone."
You follow him up the stairs. But after a couple of steps, Tatum taps you on the shoulder from behind. "Uh, I think somebody's trying to get your attention." You follow her pointing finger to the center of the student section where Damien Harris is smiling and waving at you with his good arm. "Not bad, Valentine," Tatum murmurs smugly in your ear. "Not bad at all."
Damien is sitting with a few members of Royalty and an Ehrlich you recognize from gym class, but there is a small empty space on the bench right next to him. And amazingly, he's gesturing for you to fill it. You somehow manage not to fall over from the quaking of your wobbly knees.
'Sorry', you mouth to him, gesturing ahead and behind you at your friends.
"It's okay," he shouts. "There's room here for all of you."
"Oh, no way," you hear Caroline say behind you. "We are not sitting there. We're Rats, Tate. I don't feel like being judged all night by the Kid A and all his Judgy McJudgerson friends."
"Shut up," Tatum says through a clenched smile. "We're doing this for Jen." Then she lifts two fingers to her lips and whistles for Chase, who is now almost all the way to the top of the bleachers. He turns around, blinking confusion when he realizes you're not right behind him. Tatum waves for him to come back, then grabs you by the sleeve and makes her way to the center of the row where Damien is waiting. "Excuse us," she coos in a voice devoid of her usual sarcasm. "Oh, so sorry. Don't mind us.." When you make it to Damien, she puts her hands on your shoulders and pushes hard until you sit down on the bench next to him.
"Uh, hi," he says, giving her an uncomfortable smile. "I'm Damien."
"Oh, I know," Tatum responds, squeezing in between you and the gym Ehrlich on the bench. The rest of the people in your row groan and mumble as they squish together to accommodate the rest of your friends.
You and Tommy smile at each other awkwardly for a moment. "Great crowd tonight," he finally says.
"Yeah. But it totally sucks that you can't play."
"Yeah, well.. what can you do? I guess one good thing is I get to see more than just the back of my girlfriend's head when she cheers." He points in the direction of Dana, who is now standing directly in front of the student section, clapping and spelling out the word VICTORY two letters at a time for the benefit of the crowd. She smiles and winks when she sees him. He waves and blows her a kiss.
"Oh, that's nice," you say, trying not to look too devastated. You are surprised, however, that you didn't get a nasty glare. She seems like the jealous type.
Suddenly, the pep band rises and starts playing the school song, "Shine On, You Crazy Fire Ants". The crowd begins to clap along as the cheerleaders grab a large hoop covered in paper and drag it onto the center of the field next to Sparky, the school mascot.
"Welcome to the eighth annual Zeta High Homecoming Scrimmage!" the game announcer's voice booms from the loudspeaker, and the crowd goes wild once more. "Let's say hello to this year's starting lineup. Wearing number 89 and sporting the ruthless double chainsaw, we have team captain Biff Marchetti."
The paper in the cheerleaders' hoop splits down the center and flies away as Biff dramatically saws through it. He waves his chainsaw at the crowd as the Zeta High mascot stands wiggling his segmented body along with the music. Other Baggers are introduced one by one, their weapons including bear traps, a spear gun, a giant axe, and an old-fashioned musket.
The final team member called by name-Kit McNair-enters the field with a series of no-handed cartwheels. After finishing off with a graceful front walkover, she balances on one leg with the other bending back so high that her toe nearly touches her right ear. Then she holds up a seven million volt stun gun in each hand, which she makes crackle like fireworks.
"And here are the rest of your Zeta High Fire Ants!" the announcer continues.
The remaining team members enter the stadium, and the crowd is now on their feet and cheering so loudly that you wish you had ear plugs. Coach Bryant blows his whistle and the team heads over to the sidelines for an inspirational huddle. Dana and her squad perform another cheer while Damien shouts, "You go, Dana!" Tatum catches your eye and gives you a sympathetic shrug.
The playing field is a basic regulation football field, but with a few modifications. Instead of goalposts at either end, there are VM holding areas with a system of heavy duty steel doors timed to automatically release a set number of meatbags at the touch of a button. Instead of referees, six fully armed military police stand at attention every twenty yards on either side of the field, ready to dispose of expired un-Ds or lock things dowrn if an emergency situation breaks out.
There's only one rule in arena bagging: always put on a good show for the fans. Val Killmeade enters the field with an insanely huge Black Scorpion assault rifle, and her male partner follows behind swinging a comically oversized Wiffle ball bat. When they reach the twenty yard line, the steel door at the far end zone drops open to reveal a solitary male VM. He's wearing a dark double-breasted suit and tie, and a gash just under his ribcage has turned his white shirt a sickening shade of red-brown. He stands there momentarily in a daze, blinking curiously at the lights before lifting his nose to catch a whiff of the thousands of humans around him. Suddenly, his face curls into a ravenous grimace and he begins to clumsily make his way in the direction of the Baggers.
"Get on him, guys!" Damien shouts.
A girl behind you cries, "I love you, Cheetah!"
The cheerleaders start in on a crowd participation chant as Cheetah circles around behind the VM and winds up for a swing. The bat hits the un-D businessman's rear end with a hollow bonk, and a wave of laughter ripples through the crowd. This blow obviously causes no damage to the meatbag, but it certainly makes him angry. He turns around to lunge at Cheetah, who makes like his namesake and speeds back to the fifty yard line. He stops there for a moment before looping around again and giving the meatbag another smack on the back of the skull.
"Do it! Do it!"' shouts an impatient student sitting in front of you.
Suddenly, Cheetah tosses his bat into the stands and runs for the sidelines. When he's clear, Val lifts her gun and fires a stream of bullets so powerful that it actually severs the VM's spine at his navel. His upper torso flops wetly to the ground, and for a split second his legs stand on their own before the knees buckle and crumple onto the turf.
The crowd breaks into an ear-splitting cheer as Val takes a bow. The cheerleaders flip and cartwheel along the sidelines as two MPs rush out to the corpse and place the two halves on a black plastic tarp. Within seconds, they've rolled it up and whisked it off into the biohazard zone.
Now, two new Baggers jog slowly onto the field, soaking up the crowd's adulation. At the twenty yard line, one unsheathes a samurai sword with a metal schinnggg that makes you think of the old Kung Fu movies you used to watch with Chase. The other one pulls two throwing stars from his jumpsuit pocket and activates a small red light on each one. Then the pair stands back-to-back, crouching into low attack poses. This time, both end zone doors drop open with a bang to reveal a single VM on either side of the field-one male and the other female. They both have the same disoriented reaction as Val and Cheetah's prey, followed by the quick snap to attention when they get a whiff of the crowd.
One of the Baggers quickly flicks a wrist to send one razor- sharp star spinning towards the male un-D. It's a direct hit right below his Adam's apple. The cheerleaders shake their pompoms rhythmically as the metal star's red light begins blinking faster and faster. Suddenly there's a loud crack and a puff of smoke. When it dissipates, there's a grapefruit-sized hole in the VM's trachea. His head lolls back from the impact and stays there, and the audience lets out a collective oooo0ohh as the meatbag's arms reach out in front of him in desperate frenzy.
Now the second Bagger makes his move. He runs forward towards the injured VM, his sword arm poised above his head ready to strike. The narrow sword gleams in the light as it cuts cleanly across the creature's throat, and for a brief moment the head balances on the blade and comes along on its follow through. The look of confusion is still on the meatbag's face as his head falls and rolls into the end zone.
Four Ehrlichs in the front row of the bleachers rise to their feet and shout, "Touchdown!" They turn around and face the crowd, revealing the letters Z-E-T-A spelled out collectively across their chests in brown paint. The Baggers run across the field to destroy the female VM in a similar fashion for the benefit of the other half of the crowd. When the cheers have died down, the two boys return to the bench.
The crowd hoot and whistle as round three begins with a Bagger swinging a medieval weapon with two spiked metal bals on a chain deftly above her head. She's followed by Kit and her powerful Tasers. But there's a horrible grinding sound this time as both end zone doors drop open to reveal two VMs on either end. Within seconds, each pair is joined by at least a half a dozen more meatbags.
"Wait" Damien says, his brow suddenly furrowed. "That's not what's supposed to happen."
Everything after that seems to unfold in slow motion. Not prepared to deal with so many foes, the Baggers look nervously to the Coach, who is now waving his arms furiously and blowing short bursts with his whistle. This causes the military police to jump into action. They rush onto the field and begin corralling the extra VMs.
Meanwhile, unaware that anything out of the ordinary is happening, the crowd around you continues to whistle and clap as the cheerleaders embark on a routine involving a four-person basket toss of Dana Blair. Suddenly, a lone female VM on the south side of the field breaks from the pack and rushes towards the cheerleaders just as Dana hits the apex of her mid-air straddle toe touch. The entire crowd gasps, causing the four girls waiting for gravity to return Dana into their arms to realize what's happening and flee the scene immediately. This in turn leaves Dana to make a crash landing directly on top of the rogue VM. The now very angry un-D wraps her arms around Dana's waist and rolls on top of the girl's thrashing body, and for a long moment they're just a blur of tangled ball of arms and legs.
"No!" Damien shouts. He lunges forward suddenly like he's going to try to leap from the bleachers directly onto the field.
"Damien, wait!" You grab him by the shoulder to pull him back, but he pushes your arm away.
"Let me go! I gotta help her!"
You know there's no keeping him from the field, but it's too dangerous to let him go out there alone with one arm in a sling. He runs down the bleacher stairs two at a time, and you decide there's no choice but to follow him.
"Jen!" you hear Chase shout behind you, but it's too late to explain anything to him now. Damien is getting closer to Dana and the meatbag with every passing second. What going to happen when he finally reaches them, you have no idea. The military police are still busy rounding up other VMs in the end zones. A few Baggers stand nearby, all of them seemingly frozen in shock except for Val. She stands with her rifle perched on her shoulder, waiting for a decent shot at Dana's attacker. You're too far away to be of much help, but you could jump the railing and get a weapon lying around on the field below.