ELIZABETH MAY SAUVETERRE
Mondays are just pure bad luck.
Since this morning, my stomach refuses to digest anything I eat so the amount of vomit is overwhelming. Like these moments, normal students would opt to skip class or go home.
But I'm not a normal student.
As a scholar and the vice-president of the student council, sick days are not a privilege. Prim and proper is the routine and the etiquette I must uphold every day. It's a wonder how I'm friends with the outcasts despite all the daily trouble they get themselves into.
A genuine mystery.
"Liza, are you okay?" my seatmate, Desiree Jones, asks. Without asking, she feels my neck with her hand. "You're hot!" she gasps. It is at that moment Kristina's spirit possesses me.
"Glad you're frank with me, Des. With this body, I'm the whole feast, baby." I wink. She rolls her eyes at me and bleakly laughs. "Hilarious,"
Just when I think she'll drop the subject, she raises her hand just as our Calculus professor turns away from the board. "Sir Colton, Sauveterre's burning up! Can I bring her to the infirmary?"
In my panic, I stand up and push Desiree down to her seat. "No! I'm not sick! I'm never sick!" I exclaim off-tune.
If my mother gets wind of this or even the student council, who knows what punishment I'll face? There's also the fake concern from those I despise the most. Social gatherings are only displays of the elite.
Professor Colton doesn't notice my inner conflict when he permits Desiree to drag me out. I don't have a choice but to follow her, leaving a swarm of curious eyes burning holes in me from behind.
We make our way down the stairs without a word. When we reach the cafeteria, it's exploding with laughter and loud chatter from students enjoying their break. The clock in the middle of the cafeteria tells me it's 9:00.
Desiree opens the sliding door and steps aside so I can get in. "See you later, alligator." she bids before she vanishes into the crowd of students, leaving me alone to fend for myself. The school nurse, who I assume is Jerel Wellington from the nameplate on the reception desk, flashes me a smile while talking on the phone.
I awkwardly wait for Jerel to finish her phone call, but it lasts almost five minutes.
I shift my leg for the seventh time. I can already see red marks on my skin as I do. Finally, she acknowledges my presence.
"Good Morning, Miss Sauveterre. What can I do for you?" she asks.
"Um," I swallow. Shit, I hate talking the most.
"I've been vomiting food since this morning," I inform. Her face scrunches as she writes my symptoms on a form, but I can't see what it is. "Have you eaten anything after?" she asks. "I haven't," I answer. Without missing a beat, she pulls out a food pass from her drawer and hands it to me. "Use this–it's on me."
I stand there, eyes wide as she winks at me.
"O-okay."
"When you're done, let's get you checked."
By the time I return for my check-up, the clinic is silent and empty. I head straight for the girls' room that's the door next to the comfort room. The clinic has two rooms inside for girls and boys to rest. The girls' room is pink and the boys' is blue. When I check inside, I'm more than happy to know I'm alone.
Call me anti-social–I'm more comfortable this way.
Another thing that makes me wonder how I'm friends with Kristina. Come to think of it, when did we first meet again?
I close the door and plop down on the upper bunk bed near the door with a kick-off of my shoes. Before I know it, I'm snuggling deep into the fresh-scented pillows.
"Mom, look!" a green-eyed little girl exclaimed as at her mother, who was busy looking through the microscope on the table. "Not now, Elizabeth. I'm working on something." Carole curtly said without moving from her post. Young Elizabeth looked only seven years old, with bright blonde hair that resembled her Carole.
"But you promised you'd play with me today!" Elizabeth insisted.
Carole didn't even look at her when she walked over to the compact centrifuge, "I told you I'd play with you if I have time, but I don't right now so why don't you play with your friends outside for now?"
Elizabeth stomped her foot on the ground. "Why won't you look at me, mom?! Am I that disgusting to look at?" she screams with tears streaming down her face. Though she was young, she was well aware of her mother's perception of her.
Disgusting.
She was used to her mother's busy schedule, so she tried everything to not become a hindrance if she ever tried to get rid of her. But her emotions got the best of her when her mother refused to look at her even once. If she could, she'd change who her father was so that Carole wouldn't hate her.
She just wanted her mother to love her.
"Enough!" Carole shouted after her tantrum, now annoyed with Elizabeth. It took a while for the girl to calm down, but when she did, her mother didn't even comfort her or wipe her tears. She sat still on the stool with her back facing her daughter.
Elizabeth knew she shouldn't have shouted.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she apologized.
"It's just that I don't have any friends," she excused. It wasn't true–she couldn't care less if she would never have friends if she could finally make her mother look at her and spend time like other moms from the television shows.
Carole stared at the wall, feeling a hint of guilt.
It was her fault that her daughter couldn't come out whenever she wanted. She knew that society would tear her daughter apart if they knew the truth about her father. Carole could only try to make Elizabeth hate her now for her sake.
It was the only way to save her.
"Tomorrow,"
Elizabeth looked up from her hands and eagerly leaned to hear what her mother said. "What about tomorrow, Mom?"
Carole stared at her gloved hands and sighed.
"I'll introduce you to my friend's daughter, Nicolette. She'll be your friend."
An enormous crash wakes me from my sleep. I quickly sit up and wait for my heart to calm down.
It's a wonder why that dream is about my mother. Our relationship is still the same. She's in Japan right now and won't return soon. I hope she doesn't.
My brow creases when I realize I'm sweating too much.
The air conditioner is on, but why is it stuffy?
I peer from the upper bunk to discover that the door is open. The nurse must be here now.
Without making a noise, I jump from the top bunk and gracefully land on my feet. As I put on my shoes, a bright red streak catches my attention. I follow the trail to find blood smears all over the door–like a splatter. My blood runs cold.
What happened while I was asleep?
I take a sharp breath.
Okay, Liza, you can do this.
I peer from the door to find the clinic empty. The blood trail disappears into the receptionist's desk. Before I step out to investigate, something stops me from my tracks. A strange gurgle echoes within the walls of the clinic. I grab the door, almost anxious.
What the hell is that?
I gather all my strength and carefully step out of the girls' room. The gurgle grows stronger when I head over to the receptionist's desk, alert as ever. The nurse is not around and the boys' room is open, with the same blood trail that connects to the trail from the girls'. I lean on the desk to look at what's hiding behind the desk.
A nurse cap greets my sight. I frown. What the fuck?
I lean closer, but I lose my footing and hit my brow on the desk. Quick on my feet, Jerel looks up from the floor and growls at me. Blood drips down her jaw and her eyes are a pale blue–almost cat-like.
"Ms. Wellington!" I gasp. She suddenly stands up and swipes her arm towards me, but I dodge it in time.
"What the fuck –"
She effortlessly jumps on the desk, surprising me.
I snap from the shock and without haste, I boldly push her from the desk causing her to fall headfirst behind the desk. The smell of rotten flesh wafts through my nostrils and I have to stop myself from gagging. My eyes grow wide when she stands up from the fall.
I flee to the other side of the desk and push it towards her. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I shout. The desk is curvy, which aids my plan to dodge her long nails. She growls louder. Jerel rounds the table to reach me, so I immediately flee to the other side.
If someone walks in on us, they'll think we're playing 'it' like children. It would be a sight to see if it isn't for my playmate trying to kill me.
Running out of options, I desperately look around the place for a weapon to use. Something catches my eye.
A heavy-duty stapler sits on top of the marble counter beside the steel cabinet. Without taking my eyes off her, I grab it.
Who knows what this crazy bitch will do when she gets me?
The stapler's loaded. Perfect. Normally I don't do this shit, but what can I do?
I think I have to whether or not I like it.
I let her catch me.
And just when she's about to sink her teeth on my nape, I slam the stapler on her left cheek so hard my fingers go numb and slam her against the cabinet.
She falls limp like a doll.
For a second there, rationality berates me she might be dead. I fall on the floor with aching muscles. A fallen stethoscope coils around my leg and just when I'm about to untangle it, Jerel springs back to life and crawls inexplicably fast towards me.
Fuck!
I immediately crawl backward, hoping my back won't hit a wall. Instead, I find the blue wallpaper of the boys' room around me. The scent of lemons wafts my nostrils, but the scent doesn't distract me from the sight of her face with a hanging stapler piercing through her cheeks. Blood spurts like a fountain from the open wound and the floor all slippery from the blood. She reaches for me, but I kick her straight in the face.
Wrong idea.
She grabs my foot and tries to put it in her mouth. Adrenaline pumps through me as I scream at the top of my lungs while kicking her again and again. I lose count of how many times I hit her, but she finally let go when my throat goes hoarse. In the corner of my eye, I spy a crowbar hiding beside the medicine cabinet.
I didn't think–I just ran.
The crowbar is heavy, but maybe because of the adrenaline, I find it light and feathery. Jerel finally stands up.
I take a deep breath and swing forward with everything I have.
Shit!
I could feel the collision of the skull against metal. Black liquid spurts from the crack in her skull and sprays my uniform and my face. I immediately drop the crowbar on her head and run out of the room.
I shake off my hands in disgust and wipe the blood from my lips. "Ew!"
I shiver.
Minutes tick by as I stand guard by the receptionist's desk, expecting Jerel to come out of the boys' room, but she doesn't. Jerel's body lies still on the floor.
I watch the fingers on the clock tick for a while, my heart still racing. When I realize how long I've been standing there, I gather up the courage to go near her.
She's dead now, right? I nervously chuckle.
I can see her brain's gray matter from the door. I must have hit her so hard that her eyeballs popped from its sockets.
I cringe. Disgusting.
I'm thankful for the messy experience from dissections to stomach this scenario. I dash over to the restroom to wash off the black slime from my face.
Even after scrubbing my skin red, I still feel it on my skin.
When I face the sliding doors, I get the biggest shock of my life. There's a large patch of blood splatter on the glass. The blood doesn't surprise me, but it raises an important question.
What was Jerel eating?
I saunter towards the receptionist's desk to find a severed arm peeking from the swivel chair like a sore thumb. Bite-sized patches of the flesh are missing and I can only think of it as Jerel's doing. I take a deep breath. What the hell is going on?
I wipe the sweat dribbling down my face and open the sliding door.
A horde of walkers greets my vision. With mouths agape and the same black slime as Jerel's, they fill the cafeteria like a crowd. At first glance, you'd think they're crazy in the head–until you see the grotesque flesh and rotten smell. My heart slams in my chest and for a second, I find it hard to breathe.
Oh fuck, I take a sharp breath. Not now, panic attack.
I may be cool, but it doesn't mean I'm not a wreck inside.
It's a miracle how I'm still alive despite trying to calm myself, but I realize why the walkers are nowhere near me. I look up to find the principal screaming at the top of his lungs at the end of the cafeteria.
It's Principal Phineas Carter!
For a minute, I can't believe my eyes. Our twenty-five-year-old principal assumed the position after his father's resignation, and for this, everyone knows he's the youngest conglomerate in town.
I panic. If they're the same as Jerel, then he'll die if I don't do something quick!
I think of a plan fast. The walkers all saunter towards his direction like ants. Thankfully, no other students are around to play victims. An idea pops into my head.
"Hey, loverboys! I'm over here! Yoo-hoo!" I yell as loud as I can. The walkers turn one by one at my behest.
My heart thumps faster against my ribcage as they go after me. Principal Carter notices my presence from far away. "Sauveterre? What are you doing? Get back inside!" he barks like a madman. I roll my eyes. Oh wow, who knew he knows me?
I can care less about how people get my name, but if it isn't for the present situation, I might strangle him for fun.
The irony of the situation, huh?
"Principal, warn the rest while I distract them. Now!" I demand at the top of my lungs, hoping he'll hear me from there. Without waiting for his reply, I grab onto a nearby crowbar from the janitor's toolbox for dear life.
I don't know where the audacity to act brave is coming from, but I am aware if I don't do something I'll be the first to perish along the way. A war cry stops me from my tracks. I look up to find Phineas Carter running the opposite way, attracting the walkers from me.
I slap my brow. What an idiot!
I run after them with the crowbar still in my grip. Phineas continues to cry out in desperation as he runs for the entrance gate. I stop in my tracks. What is he trying to do? I resist the urge to stomp on the ground and scream in disbelief, careful not to attract any of the creatures to me.
If he's planning on getting them out of here, it won't be successful. The steel gate made from the finest locks and materials still won't be able to withstand the force of a crowd for a long time–anything can break. I grimace. If it can guarantee our security despite the challenge, then how come these things got inside so quickly?
Someone grabs my shoulder from behind, and I turn to see Bonabelle Streaks, my theatre professor already a walker. Black slime spurts from her mouth as she stares at me with hollow blue eyes. Goosebumps crawl on my skin.
For once, I'm afraid of death.
I swing the crowbar against her head in a flash. She falls to the ground like a limp doll, but just before I breathe easy, she grabs my skirt.
A few walkers following Phineas Carter turn heads at my shriek. Crap.
I hit Bonabelle over the head again and again in panic, internally screaming. Just when my arms are tiring out, her head bursts open, and blood sprays on my clothes again.
Eck.
Disgusting.
The scream of Principal Phineas alerts everyone in the school; including the undead.
I look up. A few feet from me and just a few steps from the effeminate principal, a horde of the undead is awaiting from the other side of the gates. The gate's bolts can barely hold on much longer. And for a moment, I think it might hold on for a while.
But it doesn't.
With a strong push, the horde of undead crashes the gate with ease and immediately engulfs the principal in its wave.