KRISTINA NAOMI YAGAMI
A few seconds tick by as I lay there on the floor, weak. The adrenaline in my veins wavers, so I'm left weak from the attack. From a yard away, I could see black blood drop on the floor like water. It's coagulated and the rotten stench sends me reeling from disgust.
Is this not a nightmare then?
At this moment, all I hope is this nightmare to end as it should. Like an inky cloud before my alarm blares off.
I close my eyes. But this isn't a nightmare.
"Christ! Ma'am Georgina's dead!" Walter cries out. "Oh, shut up and be a thankful twat!" I snap angrily. I sit upon the floor with relief, but what I see next makes me crawl as far away as I could. Ma'am Georgina's headless corpse lay on top of the open window like a display while her head lolls over the empty seats beside me.
A scream erupts from the other side of the room.
I immediately grab the bat as fast as I could and swivel around to face another walker, but to my surprise I find Mickee holding onto Van's carcass. Her clothes are soaked in his blood and I look away. "He's dead! He's not moving! Anyone! Help" she whimpers. For a minute, I find it strange, then it clicks.
Oh, shit.
They've been together for five years–even already prepared college and their wedding. It's a shame this is how he dies. Because of my inattentiveness, Mickey loses her fiancé. She doesn't pay any heed to her bloody clothes as she gives him one last kiss on the brow. His lips are now blue and his skin is pale.
I walk across the classroom to check what's outside. You'd think we'd see with glass windows everywhere, but curtains blocking the view might have just saved our lives. I peek to find around twenty walkers roaming the hallway in disarray. It's a miracle how the other classrooms aren't in chaos.
I worry about Nicolette. Her classroom is just two rooms from mine and is the closest to the restroom. Knowing her, I'd bet all my change she'll want to go there at one point. Everyone knows how much she loves her reflection.
I mean, have you seen that bitch's body?!
On that note, I deduce Herbert lost his shit. Literally.
His suede slacks are wet and the smell of putrid shit wafts heavily in the air. I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming. If he doesn't stop shitting his pants, we're in big trouble.
Yeong Hwan shows up beside me with calm eyes. It's apparent his brother already told him. I roll my eyes. Bastard. It's a wonder how the twins are street fighters when their main game is gossip. I'm about to open my mouth when suddenly, the front door kicks open.
NICOLETTE AOIBHE KAVANAGH
"Take that, foul beast!" I bellow.
In a flash, I slice a walker's head in half. I watch with satisfaction as the body drops like a lightweight. I look behind me to find a trail of fallen walkers. Someone call the janitor y'all because I'm doing the job for them.
Scratchy moans from afar reach my ears. I could see about twenty walkers approaching us mindlessly. I tsk.
It's a pity that no one will record my doing and post it on YouTube for fame. I could be a star for all I know–if the internet might still be around after this pandemic then. My classmates are not far behind. From pens, rulers to books–they're using any kind of object as a weapon to protect themselves. It's a sight to see.
Iver and Vincent are close behind, who look more like bodyguards to me, each holding an expensive guitar probably signed by Taylor Swift or Lady Gaga. "Nicky!" Vincent warns. I smirk.
I effortlessly kick the walker down to the floor and slash its neck. But just when I stand up, it charges at me in full-speed, barely giving me a memento. "Kavanagh!" someone screams from behind.
In a flash, Iver slams the walker against the wall. I blink. That was a close call!
If he didn't intervene, who knows what could become of me?
Just when I'm about to thank him, I reconsider my thoughts.
He's an asshole all the time. I sometimes wonder where his hatred stems from. Everyone thinks he's such a perfect gentleman that they voted him Mr. Congeniality at prom. Unfortunately, I was his partner that night. He's strange–we could have been something good, but he's just so condescending without proper reason.
My train of thought breaks when classroom lights reach my eyes. Though the curtains are covering the view of the room, I have no room for doubt it's Kristina's. Carlo Hangman, who I forget to mention is also my classmate, approaches me when our eyes meet. We nod. Iver shoots me distasteful look behind Carlo, which I return.
Even at this life or death situation, we hate each other's guts. It will be a sight to see when the walkers devour him.
I mouth to Carlo.
1 …
2 …
3 …
Carlo kicks the doorknob in one heap. I give him two thumbs up, happy with his sudden exhibition. He wriggles his brows. "I'm a martial artist that specializes in Kendo, Wushu, Taekwondo, and Southern Fist. I was so good I competed overseas at five," he boasts.
I pat his shoulder to show my approval. "I don't care but superb job, bitch," I remark. He flips his middle finger at me and I laugh.
I'm the first to enter the room, only to find it in chaos. Students are crying and screaming back and forth, a walker is lying on one window and a girl is cradling a bloody guy and a shitting professor are on the floor.
My nose crinkles at a distinct smell. God, it smells like shit here.
Oh, wait, someone is shitting here.
Kristina's face is nowhere in sight. A distressful cry reaches my ears and before I know it, I jump just in time to dodge a kick below. "What the hell?!" I yelp. I look down only to find Kristina on her knees. "Nicolette?!" Kristina gasps.
I did what any rational best friend would do. I slap the back of her head.
"Ouch! The hell was that for you Irish bitch?!" she shouts.
I roll my eyes before I dump my bag on the floor for her to see. "Be grateful I saved your ass, witch."
From my periphery, I catch Vincent mocking me. Without thinking, I hit his face with Iver's knife's spine. The knife's heel leaves a deep cut on my left palm. I mentally curse. Maybe I should have hit him with the blade instead.
"You won't cry?" Iver asks. I raise an eyebrow at him.
Showtime.
I wrap my bloody hand with a spare handkerchief.
"Nicolette Aoibhe Kavanagh!" Kristina's scream catches my attention.
I scowl when she looks at me in disbelief with her hands inside my bag. She opens the bag even more for everyone to see–kitchen knives, a revolver, a few different guns with extra magazines, and brass knuckles. "Where in flying fucks did you get these?!" she shouts so loud that even the crying girl stops.
Everyone's eyes are now on me.
"If you must know, Kristina Naomi Yagami, my mother is a chef, baker, and man-hater." I lie without batting an eye. "That isn't an answer, Nicolette. How did you sneak them here?" she asks.
The question hits me.
Shit, how could I be so careless?
"That doesn't matter now–what we should focus on is how we'll get out of here." I quickly change the subject. Her mouth drops open. "No! I need to know!" she demands, "If ya told me beforehand I'd have brought some, you stupid bitch!" She pulls out the revolver and aims it at me in a heartbeat.
"Kristi-" Iver speaks out, but before he can say anything–the gun goes off.
Bang. I blink.
I hear a body slump behind me. "Nice shot." I compliment.
Kristina smirks and blows the smoke from the revolver. Everyone around us is too shocked to move a muscle at what just happened.
"What the actual fuck? Do you know how dangerous that was?!" Jane shouts behind me. "What if she got hurt?!" Vincent shouts. Everyone's reaction mixes in with the commotion outside. Kristina stands up and hands me the revolver in a flash.
"Take a chill pill, motherfuckers. I learned target practice. I'm not a granddaughter of a war hero for nothing." she explains. "Same!" I squeal. "World War 1 or 2?" she asks me. I put up two fingers for her to see.
She squeals, "Me too!"
"Are you guys going to shut up or do I have to slap you?" someone pipes in. I find Carlo tapping his foot on the floor impatiently.
Without thinking, I blurt out, "It starts with letter G."
Iver, Vincent, Carlo, and Kristina look at me, "What about G?" Vincent asks blandly.
"G stands for Gay. Carlo is gay."
Carlo fumes at the insult and attempts to hit me. I dodge and twist his arm behind him just in time. I enjoy how his face scrunches up in pain, but I let him go when he screams like a girl.
"Yeah," I boast and brush imaginary dirt from my sleeves while pretending to have a jacket over me. Everyone stares at me as if I have two heads. I raise my brows. "The fuck you looking at?" I ask. "It's shocking you even know how to disarm," Iver comments. "Excuse me? Well, you're more stupid than you think." I retort.
Kristina hastily lays out my weapons on the floor, oblivious to the scared-shit professor in front of her. I admire her undisturbed state from such a horrendous sight and stench. The others are not in shock at all, nor are they even making fun of him.
She picks up the caliber 9mm handgun and checks the magazine. "Yeong Hwan," I call out when I see his face from the crowd of students. It's always a surprise how we're friends with a popular kid like him, but alas, I'm Judas and I still have friends.
"Guard the entrance. Tell me if there's more of them coming." I order.
Carlo tries to take the brass knuckle behind my back, but I slap him just in time.
"Ouch! What was that for?" he complains. I give him a sickly smile. "Try taking it again–I'll keep you in a room with one of them next time," I warn. He retracts his hands and glares at me. I laugh.
It's a surprise how well the others are taking this. Then again, you're always taking a gamble with the Devil.
Hey, at least something good comes from watching Chandler Riggs' character show his mother in that one episode right?