As I'm dragged into the room, fluorescent lights blind me, and confusion washes over me as my vision slowly adjusts, discovering a crowd of beings hovering over me, moving in closer. I scream and scoot away until I feel my back thud against the wall, pulling out my knife in case they keep coming after me. They just stare at me with wide eyes, remaining still, unwavering. They watch my every move, every twitch. Are they dead? Why they haven't attacked yet? I can only make out the blurry shapes of people as my eyes adjust.
"Calm down dude, we ain't sick," I hear someone call from the group, taking a cautious step toward me, hands held up submissively to show no harm.
"Henry?" I ask, my eyes searching for familiar features to match the welcoming voice. He and Georgia step closer, blocking the lights so I can see them clearly, the white glow surrounding the outline of their bodies, instant relief flushing through my being, tingling my fingertips and toes.
It's strange, you never realize how terrified and drained you are until you relax a little and let some of the tension subside… Once you remember something familiar, and finally forget the craziness that's lurking outside, it's sad… it's not something you want to happen, it just… does. That's when I remember how things have changed in a matter of minutes, how our whole world was just buttfucked into oblivion and death. It makes me wonder if I'm even still human, or just a animal willing to do whatever it takes to survive, even if that means taking the life of another? Unfortunately I already know the answer… I used that kid as a human shield less than 20 minutes ago. I'm nothing but an animal, a bestial creature. So I imagine the real question I need to ask myself is, can I hold onto my humanity in this savage world, or will I lose myself to the feral damnation that circles us?
I jump up and hug Georgia and Henry, pulling them tight and inhaling their scent, so glad to smell something that isn't blood or burning bodies or smoke, feeling their warmth. They try to push away, feeling uncomfortable with the infected blood covering my jacket and neck. I don't let them escape, needing to know that this is real, that I'm not imagining this.
"Oh fuck I'm glad you're both okay," I sigh while hugging them, tension slowly easing out my soul. I can't let go of them, my body won't let me. I'm shaking a little, so happy that I'm not alone, that I'm not going to die yet. This is something real, something I can feel, hold onto. My emotions are finally catching up with me, the fear shifting to a sort of calm, not happy, but no longer afraid. This is exactly what I needed to snap me out of that instinctual state of mind, so I can actually focus again, think, and try to figure out what needs to happen. As I let all of that process, I let my grip on them slip and they back away to study me.
"Don't worry, I'm not contagious," I manage to joke and their features soften. I hadn't even noticed the group that's gathered around us, hovering in a circle. I do a head count, noting 17 of them, not including the three of us. Most of which I didn't know, but I saw five others I recognized immediately.
Angela, an ex-girlfriend from middle school, is standing next to Kevin. We were really close friends once upon a time, back about five years ago, but never kept in contact with each other. I guess you can say we had a bad breakup. She hung out with all the preppy white kids who liked to party every weekend, do molly and get drunk all the time, as well as get fucked on by the whole football team. You can easily see why I stopped hanging around her. I'm not into that shit. I don't share my women. That's fucking disgusting, sloppy seconds. But, again, that's just me. I swallow a shudder and avert my narrow gaze.
Brian from Spanish class is there, though he has blood splattered on the right side of his shirt now, a little speckled in his hair as well, giving him maroon highlights, and a spooked look strung on his face like he's still battling with the realization that the dead are hunting us. Kevin, my buddy from advanced biology freshman year, is looking just as scared as Brian, paranoid even, but unharmed. And Spencer, from my 4th period advanced photo class, is waiting for us to stop the little charade and figure out how we're going to get out of this situation, irritation settling into his body language. Jen from my core class this year is right behind Henry, her eyes worried, searching my body for scratches and bites.
At least I know there are people out there, that I'm not the only one still alive, and that I know people who are still alive. I'm bad at socializing in general, this bullshit happening wouldn't make my life any easier in that department. I glare at the rest of the group, all huddled together, stirring up whispering. I don't recognize any of them, but they don't look like they'd be much good to us in a fight against the dead. They seem terrified, and more scared of me than the things outside of the building. They continue hissing secrets unheard by our outside group. They all seem beyond terrified at this point, like they'd been beaten all their lives, flinching whenever anyone makes a move toward them. Petrified would certainly be a better word for how they appear. I wonder, what had they been exposed to that would make them tremble in such a pathetic way? And did I look the same?
"How did you all get here?" I question Georgia, moving closer to her.
"Henry 'n I got here right when you left to your locker. We heard the screams 'n blocked the door to the classroom after watchin' what was happenin' outside. Spencer and Jen had jazz class upstairs, so they were already in the building, and Angela skipped ta watch them play durin' 3rd cuz' her class wasn't doin' shit either. The teacher, Ms. Mora went outside to try 'n stop some of the sick people from eating a kid, got killed by those monsters… That's how Brian got inside," she answers me, looking over at Brian with sympathetic eyes.
"I was by the main gate when everythin' started… I-I tried to run back to the C buildin' to hide in one of the classrooms, ya'know? My dumbass really thought that would be safe… but the same shit was goin' on in there… I r-ran behind the C buildin' before I got trapped in the hallway, b-but another group of zombies came in through the gate by the pool I was heading for. I sprinted for the music buildin' and the things s-started chasin' me. I-I ran past that lady while tryin' to get away from those things… I just passed her, without even botherin' to warn her… help her… I heard her screams. D-didn't stop or look back… just kept running. But her screams, I-I swear they got louder with each step I took… I let her die because I was too busy savin' myself… Wha-… What kind of person am I?" Brian whimpers, remorse creeping into his voice, hands really shaking now, like all of his molecules got extremely hot for no reason.
"What 'bout them?" I ask, nodding toward the other group who's also talking amongst themselves, but really trying to get the attention off of Brian. At least he didn't throw someone to their death. But I'm not like the others… my remorse is held for more important situations.
"They had this class, stayed in for band practice with Ms. Mora, rehearsing for graduation or something. Those two came in right after Brian, before we locked off the class. We tried to open it sooner when we heard you struggling outside, but they wouldn't let us. They said we didn't need the risk. It wasn't until the noises stopped that they moved and we could check the hall," Henry says, nodding at the others who'd escaped the terror outside. I search for them, surprised I hadn't seen either of the fucks hiding amongst the crowd. One I recognize one as Jamal Jamison, a boy I've fought with all throughout middle school. I don't know why, but the dick hated me with a passion. Maybe it's because I'm white? When I can't figure out what the problem may be, I usually blame my whiteness. That might be racist of me for thinking that in itself but white guilt doesn't run in my veins. I'm only half white anyway. It's just the color of my skin. Everyone fails to mention that I'm a quarter Native American, a descendant of both the Comanche and Blackfoot's, and a quarter Hispanic, Mexican to be specific. My grandmother's family reigned from Guadalajara, I had proof and everything. But no, they focus on the light shade of my fucking skin.
The kid with him, Peter, is his identical twin brother, looks just like him, but not quite as ugly and not as dark skinned, more of a burgundy color. He didn't go to the same middle school for some reason; don't know why, don't really care. It wasn't until high school when they got together and calmed down some, turning their attention to others, easier prey besides myself.
"I wanna go home! Wha's goin' on?" someone shouts from the band group, which I'd also just noticed was full of only men. They've all huddled into the corner farthest from the door in the windowless room, like a flock of helpless sheep cowering from a wolf.
"You wanna go home…you think we don't want the same fuckin' thing?? We needa figure out how to get outta the fuckin' buildin' first, then the school! But think about it… really… is there even gonna be a home to go back to if we make it outta the school?" I snap at them, frustration vibrating through my voice from their extreme cowardice of something that none of them have even witnessed firsthand. They're shitting their pants already, just from hearsay. Just from that, I can tell that they won't last but ten minutes in the world outside. They rise in an uproar after that, marching around me, bombarding with questions and accusations.
"What d'you mean?"
"Is this a fuckin' joke?"
"Stop lyin'!"
"This has gotta be a prank right? Like you guys're just fuckin' with us, ya?"
"…Is that real blood on you?!"
"How long'll we havta stay here?"
"Where're the cops? Aren't they supposed to take care of this shit?"
I feel trapped with them closing in, so I instinctively back away and raise my hands for some silence, which doesn't come.
"Wait. Wait! SHUT UP!!" I bellow and they all fell silent, a little startled by my raised voice. "It's not a joke you fuckin' retards. I wish it was a joke, you have no idea! I don't honestly know what the fuck is goin' on… All I know is there's a disease goin' 'round, makes people cannibalistic, even unresponsive to all pain besides gettin' hit on the head. I don't know how it started, I don't know where it started, and I don't know why it started. I don't really give a fuck honestly, and neither should you. All I know is that our school is plagued by those things. That's all we needa focus on…
"I thought it was just Berkeley High for some reason. I was scared, not thinking straight. It wasn't until I went up on the roof that I saw how bad everything is. Berkeley is fucking done, wrecked and taken over… If our cities are like this, just in this immediate area, then the ones close by gotta be the same… Who's to say this didn't start back out east and we're the last to feel it… or we could be the start," I explain uneasily, eyes shifting between the many faces glaring at me. They stare at me like I'm fucking insane, like I should've been institutionalized before today. I mean, I probably should've been, but it's too late for that.
"So you're tellin' me that the whole world just… ended? Hmm… so how's bein' stuck in here helpin' us?" Jamal demands from the back of the crowd, finally staring our way. He'd been listening closely from the back of the room, but was engaged in a disclosed conversation with his brother until now.
"What I'm sayin' is that nobody's comin' to rescue us. We're on our own…" I reply calmly, sizing the pair up.
"So what if I wanna get outside?" he instigates with a crooked smirk on his face, hand playfully outstretching toward the locked door.
"Go right the fuck ahead if you really wanna die that badly. Just do us all a favor and jump offa the roof 'cause we can't have all those infected rushin' inside when they see you tryna get out," I tell him, my eyes narrowing to an angry gleam.
"You musta lost ya mind niggah, who the fuck you think your talkin' to bitch?" he raises his voice, stalking up to me, ready to start a fight, mere inches away from my face now. I sneer.
"Really dude, all the things going on around us and you wanna start a fight? I ain't got time for your bullshit dude, go sit the fuck down before you get hurt," I warn him, my patience drained now. He shoves me in response, sending me stumbling a few steps before catching good balance. I glare at him with a renewed anger.
"Fuck it, maybe this'll make him understand," I think to myself, shrugging my jacket off hastily while he takes two large steps forward and jumps up, his arm cocked back, all his strength and force readily behind his fist. When he comes within three feet of my face, he unleashes his attack full throttle, his entire body swiveling midair from the weight behind the swing.
I glide away from his reach, leaning my torso far back to dodge the swing, the gust slapping the side of my cheek, tickling the small hairs on my face. Moving my whole body forward, I tense all of my muscles before punching him in the center of his abdomen, a ripple of energy passing up from my forearm to his diaphragm. He collapses on the ground in the fetal position, a loud groan of pain escaping his lips, his hands clenching tighter as he gasps for the air that was knocked from his lungs. He shakily hauls himself up to attack me again, his arm launching for my nose again, but I grab his arm, my left hand clutching his chalky wrist, my right hand clinging to his left shoulder, my fingers digging into his collarbone, and fling him around, slamming him hard against the ground, face first, chipping one of his crooked incisor's on the polished concrete.
"Ffffuck ooou!" he yells from the floor, spittle of saliva and crimson landing on the ground near the piece of yellowed ivory of his broken tooth.
"I don't have time to play these games with you Jamal! People are dying! We're probably gonna die! WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!" I yell and let him up, figuring he's done with his tantrum. But no… people don't seem to comprehend that true terror lies just beyond the glass and the scantily locked doors to this building.
He charges me, swinging blindly, anger moving him now. I maneuver from his wide attacks and slowly allow him to come in close enough for me to put him down for good. Three more swings and I can see the pain and weariness in his movements as well as his struggling facial expression, stuck somewhere between anger and anguish. I shift my body as he tries to kick me and punch his Adam's apple lightly, not wanting to kill him, but to hurt him enough as to stall him. He starts coughing and leans over, holding his throat, hastily descending onto the floor, moaning unfashionably, glaring insidiously at me. The others in the room stand back, Henry assuring our people that I'd take care of it and the band members all unsure what to make of the whole situation. I detect they don't like me, or those that stand by my side. Not the best way to start of our survival, but I can't reverse what's been done.
"Get offa him asshole!" Peter shouts, running up and grabbing me from behind, slamming my head against one of the desks nearby, trying to do it again before I push against him. He shifts his hands, trying to put me in the sleeper hold, but really just suffocating me, my vision going a little blurry for a brief second before reacting. I grunt and flip him over my shoulder, punching him four times in the nose to stop him from trying anything again, his cartilage breaking with the 3rd smack. Jamal has picked himself up, his arms swaying, eyes bloodshot, throat pinkish red, looking ultimately finished. I walk up to him, pushing him back against a desk, his hands flailing for something to catch himself. While he's distracted I grab a fistful of his short untamed afro and slam his face into the top of the desk opposite the one he was leaning on multiple times, leaving him grunting louder with each assault. They both lay out on the ground, defeated and ashamed, holding their aching bodies.
"Jesus Christ…" I hear one of the musicians whisper.
"Did he really need to go that far?" another chimed in.
"Come here," I command, ignoring the side comments, my voice wavering with anger as I pick the brothers up by the back of their necks and half-drag them to the roof. The rain is coming down harder now, washing away the heat along with the fresh blood of the city. If this wasn't real, this scene would be surprisingly amazing, watching Berkeley turn into a dystopia. If…
"LOOK! Look at all the infected in the city! Look at how real this shit is. Everyone we knew or have ever known's probably dead now, or infected! All we have is each other now!!! The sooner you get that, the easier things will be for everybody…" I say, a hollowness filling my voice, knowing that that's completely true now. All we really have is each other…
4 Hours Later
They're all back in their comfort corner, making more rumors about us, the injured Peter and Jamal among them, having their wounds tended. Nobody's cell phone works, all the phone lines are busy or out of service at the moment. We even tried the land line but it had an emergency recording endlessly repeating the same thing, no help at all. I asked the others if they'd made any connection or at least got a ring in but they all shook their heads glumly. Well, that's what everyone's saying at least. I'm sure that it's more of endless ringing and voicemails than nothing. And that's terrifying, more than not knowing, just knowing that something, in some way, is wrong. The internet was working for a minute, but only on Henry's phone because of the concrete walls in this building. We can't go to the roof because the rain picked back up again, instant water damage, and nobody is willing to go out into the hall to try it out there. They think there might be some dead in the building already, but nobody will see if it's true. Henry had pulled up a clip of some news show but it cut off within 45 seconds. It went like this.
Male Reporter: "Shannon, there's no definitive cause of how the outbreak has arrived, whether it was a chemical virus, or some all new disease. The military is on the verge of declaring Martial Law, but there are no positive reports on that information. The remaining police forces inside major cities are defending green zones for uninfected citizens. All citizens must make it to these green zones, they are your only hope of protection. It is no longer safe inside residential households with the steadily growing number of infected. Do not attempt the highways-"
And that was it. The internet connection completely vanished and we were all left to feel a slow burn in our centers; something like heartburn, but more like a form of defeat. I even tried to call my aunt and uncle again, but it was useless like the times before. It's like the world is leaving us in complete isolation… And I can't help but feel restless with the unsaid questions stirring inside my skull, driving me toward the brink of insanity. If I don't do something soon, I really will become insane.
"Henry, Kevin. We needa make sure the building's safe if we're gonna stay in here," I tell them as I lift my ass off the floor and stretch, heading toward the door, everyone in the room quieting down. Henry and Kevin get up and follow me with all the eyes on them, now feeling obligated.
"Spencer, Brian. Watch them… I'm sure they'll try something stupid. I don't trust them," I whisper, gesturing toward the twins, who seem to be leading the musicians now. Brian gives me a thumbs up, not giving it much mind. Spencer, watches the others conversing intently.
I dig my 4" folding knife from out of my back pocket and unfold it, happy that this is the strongest folding knife I've ever owned, or rather inherited. Henry breaks a music stand in half and holds the pole like a baseball bat. Kevin unsheathes an 8" blade from his coat pocket, the knife glinting in the lighted room. I put my ear against the door to listen if anything is waiting on the other side, but hear nothing, so I grab the handle and whisper to Kevin and Henry, "It sounds clear, but don't let your guard down. That's usually when you die…" They gulp down their fear and wait for me to proceed.
"…Are you really going out there?" Jen questions hesitantly, everyone looking completely horrified.
"Yeah… we'll be fine," I assure her, still listening for noise on the other side, but all I can here is them slamming against the entrance.
"Wait, let me help," one of the bigger of the guys in Jamal's group says, lifting off the ground. The three of us stare at him questioningly, but don't turn down the extra help. He copies Henry and grabs one of the nightstands, unscrewing it instead of breaking it, then creeps close to us.
"When we're done everyone'll be able to piss in the bathrooms instead of standing awkwardly in that corner," Kevin jokes to lighten the mood and I swing the door open on that note. We wait but hear no running or screaming coming from the halls, safe for the moment, though it feels like I'm already having a heart attack.
"Alright, let's go," I decide and we begin walking out into the hall, the new guy closing the door behind him. Henry walks over to the window and his eyes grow wide like Charlie Murphy, eyebrows stretching far into his forehead.
"Uhhh… There's a small army amassing out there… We'll probably need more shit to block against it to make it secure," he notes.
"Let's block it with desks from the classrooms," I suggest and we set out into motion.
After we've secured the door, I jump up and yank at the pole I'd broken before, and about 4 feet of iron comes off this time. It's a lot better than a small knife. "Here, why don't you use this instead," I offer, slowly passing my knife to the new guy.
"Thanks," he grunts, not meeting my eyes.
"Alright, let's search the rest of the building," I whisper, trying to encourage them before we jog up the stairs to the second floor.
"…Should we split up?" Kevin asks openly, not liking his own suggestion.
"No… if we split up there's a higher chance of someone dying. Let's just take our time and make sure everythin's safe," I tell him, dismissing the idea as we breach the second floor. The hallway is ominous, uncomfortable. All the classrooms are empty, no bags left on the floor, no writings on the whiteboards, just lifeless classrooms, left behind to rot with the burning destruction. It's like it was dead before the world joined it. The 3rd floor is as empty as the 2nd and 1st, just as creepy, lifeless, and cold. I try to take my mind off of it with conversation.
"So, what's your name?" I ask the other guy.
"Jerry," he says shortly.
"How's everyone holdin' up on your end? Haven't had much of a chance to talk with any of you with all the commotion occurring," I ask, his face contorting.
"Not too great, everyone's freaked out, on edge. But they'll be better in a minute," he says matter-of-factly.
"Well let's go check on 'em," I say as we sigh at our good luck and start trudging back toward the stairwell.
"Wait, why don't we do another sweep? Maybe we can find some weapons or supplies. I'm sure they're all parched downstairs," Jerry suggests as I open the door to the stairwell. Henry and Kevin shrug and move toward him until I hear a crash, like the overturning of a desk, and screams echoing through the staircase, human screams, woman screams.
"What was that?" I question, heading down the stairs quickly.
"I'm sure it's just the zombies banging against the front door, nothing to panic over," Jerry responds calmly, but we all bound down the stairs at top speed anyway, Jerry, trudging slowly in the back, to see what's happening. As we reach the 1st floor relief creeps through our pores as we notice that the blockade is still up and no infected are inside.
"Where the fuck was all that screaming comin' from then?" Henry asks, all of us shrugging, peeking around.
"Let's go check the back. Maybe it's from a window near the back of the building," Jerry suggests and I look at him with a new form of suspicion.
"…Why you keep tryna get us away from the classroom? What the fuck did Jamal plan with you?" I question, taking the face of a wolf.
Smash!
"What the hell?" I think out loud, walking over and trying to open the door where the sound came from, but it's locked. Then I hear the girls scream inside and my heart sinks. No fucking way… they wouldn't dare… I look back at the others, and their expressions are as rigid and cold as mine, all except Jerry. We've all thought of the worst.
"SHAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!" Georgia shrieks, her voice becoming strained, brittle toward the end, like she was being choked into silence. We kick at the door but it doesn't budge, doesn't even quiver at our attempts. The girl's screams become more strained as they hear us struggling. Then I hear quickening footsteps rushing me and I slide out of the way, pushing Kevin with me to the left, narrowly avoiding a stab in the back with my own blade. A flash of anger takes over my following actions.
"FUCK'RE YOU DOING!!!" I roar, grabbing his forearm and twisting as the girls cry out again.
Th-thump…
I can feel it coming.
I snap his left forearm in half, the bone protruding from the skin on his underarm. He cries out in pain for a mere second while I snatch my blade from his twisted hand and ram the freshly sharpened point into the side of his head to shut him up, my ribs hurting from my sledgehammer of a heart and excessive breathing. I withdraw my blade and immediately ram the door, beating at it to no avail.
"OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!!!" I bellow savagely, spittle flying as shout, resuming my attack on the door in continuous barrages, leaving Kevin and Henry to stare with an immense uncertainty, the deceased Jerry at our feet, infected wailing behind the red doors.
"What the fuck dude?!" Henry exclaims, both shifting away. I fold the knife and put it in my pocket to let them know I'm not going to harm them. I kick at the door twice more, failing to break it down, knowing I need help, but that they don't trust me enough to do anything. I'm stuck between desperation for not being strong enough, and anger for always needing assistance, but I can't find the answer as for what to do besides plea.
"FUCKING HELP ME!!" I beg in the form of a command, snapping them from their stupor. They gallop to my aid, side stepping around Jerry's leaking corpse. "At the same time… NOW!" I shriek and we all charge at the door, busting it open with our shoulders and stumbling inside, breaking the lock and shoving the teacher's desk that was shoved against the door to help keep us out, and I freeze.
What I see before me sends me into a trance as the flashbacks slap me full force. The puddle of blood seeping towards me… my father laughing uncontrollably in the background… my mother's pleading eyes watching me the whole time… my sister's screams echoing through my head like a banshee…
Do you know of that anchored feeling you have in the pit of your chest? The same feeling you get when you're guilty or sad or happy? That's what my anchor is. It holds me to this civilized form, where I'm still a human being.
The sight before me ripped that anchor out so roughly I felt fury and adrenaline combine with hate and bloodlust; an unrealistic anguish I haven't experienced for ten years. The blood begins pumping so intensely that my vision turns red and the veins in my arms expand, bulging against my blistering hot skin. It's the same feeling of losing control, when the darkness unsheathes itself from the abyss. My vision blurs for but a moment, my hands begin to tremble, and my mind goes blank…
I hate this feeling… And live for it at the same time…
Inside the room, the 11 men we'd left in the room had hogtied Brian and Spencer with shoe strings and other various clothing, both looking bruised, sweaty socks shoved in their mouths as a subsequent form of a gag. The men are currently stripping Angela, Jen, and Georgia of their clothing, all but ripping their clothes to shreds, molesting them, all so intoxicated by their wanting lust that they don't notice we've actually broken through yet. They must've heard the commotion outside, yet had no reaction or care to what might've been storming through the doors. Or maybe they though their friend had managed to kill all of us and was just waiting to be let inside. Either way, they're in for a rude awakening. One full of savagery…
All the girls are scratched up from fighting back, tears in their eyes and lining their faces. The men are shedding clothes themselves, laughing at the women's feeble struggles against the many surrounding rapists, smiling in anticipation, penis' becoming erect, hands trying to work as fast as possible.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!?!?! DIE!! FUCKING DIE!!!" I roar so intensely it vibrates off the walls, entering the crevices of their now blackened hearts, reminding them of what fear is, what true fear feels like…
The shock now lines their bodies as they turn to face us, their erections shrinking to nothingness except for Jamal and Peter, both still struggling with Georgia, trying to hold her down on the teacher's desk. They haven't had time to register what's about to happen to them, to all of them. I double take at their eyes and catch nothing but dilated black pupils where brown irises should reside. Jamal… Stupid druggie motherfucker. He slipped some pills to everyone while they bandaged him up I'm sure.
The girls have been badly beaten, purple/brown bruises forming on their chests and arms, tears are bleeding down their cheeks, red hand prints, scratch marks, and various bruises of different shapes and sizes covering the majority of their thighs and upper torsos. Georgia's shirt has been torn off, her left breast exposed, like someone had reached inside and pulled it out since her bra still resides in place. Jen's panties had been ripped off, but no marks were around her bush of pubic hair or inner thighs. She hadn't been raped yet, but she was to be the first.
Th-Thump.
I can't believe that I'd left them alone for less than 30 minutes, and these BASTARDS had done this to them. What if I hadn't heard them? What if I'd listened to Jerry? What if we hadn't been able to break through the door?
…No… no more "what ifs"…
…what will…
What will happen to these men will be brutal… What I will do to them will send me to hell… What will remain of them when I'm done will be fragments of souls and rotting bodies… What will happen is a new way, my way. I refuse to tolerate these types of actions.
There will be the new world order…
And the first order…
KILL ALL RAPISTS!
I sense the rage shifting from dormant to active, coming out from the deepest crevices of my tarnished soul, the urge rushing inside of my mind. I know the others are watching my aura forming around them, shuddering at the prickling anxiety of the aggressive pheromones I'm releasing. It's growing, becoming dark, twisted; swirling around me in the form of a personal hurricane, giving anyone it comes into contact with goosebumps… It's turning me into who I used to be, and truly still am…
Angry.
Violent.
And I want it to happen. I want for them to suffer for what they've done… So I do the most rational thing before I implode…
I exhale, and release…
The flashbacks come back for my sanity, and I submerge into the Abyss…
(DARK SHAUN)
I snatch Kevin's knife from his hand and rush forward, eyes wide, teeth bared, grinding against each other uncontrollably, nostrils flared to full capacity. A low rumble escapes from the devil clawing at the heavy pit searing the linings of my stomach and lungs, quaking the walls and whiteboards. I bet they wish it was the infected instead of me.
The dead would be more humane…
As I run up to the 1st boy, piercing the jagged end of the iron bar into the center of his chest and watching as he tumbles, clutching at the pole, hoping to yank it back out, but the blood is slicking the pole too severely, leaving him hopelessly struggling as he leaks out faster than a broken bottle of Tabasco sauce, a pleading whimper escaping his dry cracked lips. I smile at him with pure vengeance.
I grab the 2nd closest rapist and elbow him in the face, busting his eye before slashing his neck from the back of his left ear to his Adam's apple, blood spurting on my cheek and shirt while he collapses. He clutches the wound together best he can as he sinks to his knees. The panic that rules over his eyes begins to shift to drowsiness as death greets him. The 3rd abuser comes for me head on while the 4th and 5th try to get me from the left side. I step up to the 3rd, a smile lining my whitening lips, and he punches me hard in the cheek, a loud pop erupting from his wrist from punching incorrectly. I laugh as he hollers in pain. I grip his broken wrist and he shrieks like a woman, trying to pry away from me. I close my hand tighter on the wounded area and rush into his perimeter, beating him in rapid successions with the butt of the blade against the head, leaving him woozy and staggering.
"Was that supposed to hurt me? I'M NOT SOME GIRL YOU CAN BEAT UP ON YOU FUCKING fAGGeT! FIGHT LIKE A REAL MAN YOU BITCH!!!" I bellow before piercing the knife through his left lung, then the right lung just for good measure, knowing he'll be dead a minute tops, left drowning from the inside out. The kills are becoming easier with each victim, empowering me, my gnarled hateful smile never shifting on my bloody face.
I shove him toward the other two, leaving him to grab at them for help, slowing them down enough for me jump back, grasp the metal pole, and rip it from the dead boy's body. I spin, clutching the pole like a spear, and jab the jagged edge diagonally through the 4th rapist's fat neck, piercing him like a shish kabob, completely stunning the other in panic, deer in the headlights. I let the pole go again and the human shish kabob stumbles before falling, unable to stand with the new weight of the pole, looking more confused than in pain. I ignore him and slide the blade under the stunned one's ribs, his now rotting ticker deflating instantaneously. Withdrawing the blade, I focus on the last six of the bastards, my hate becoming more intense, growing so steadily I'm starting to love the feeling of hate more than the feeling of love. And that's what I want, to hate.
There's hope in love, but hate will push you through Hell unscathed.
And hate is all I feel now.
Henry uses my distraction to charge the 6th that's holding Jen, booting him in the balls with such force the boy leaps in the air from the pain. The 6th coughs, vomits, coughs again, trying to catch his breath, somehow still on his wobbly feet. Henry moves forward, kicks him dead in the stomach, rolling him to the floor on his back, still attempting to catch his breath. Henry stomps on the boy's abdomen until he upchucks blood, then rams the broken music stand between a set of his ribs. The boy cries as he soils himself, desecrating the ground with shit piss and bile. The others by the women back away from both me and Henry, unsure what to do or which is worse. Henry and Kevin both help the girls pull their clothes on and take them outside the room so that they won't see what I'm doing anymore. The remaining men measure me, deciding their chances against a killer. Five to one and they're still stalling to attack.
And that fear empowers me tenfold.
Georgia gives a horrid stare of pleading as Jamal teasingly reaches up and tweaks her exposed nipple, biting her ear so roughly it draws blood, all while staring at me. He yanks her head forward and tries to kiss her, but she bites his bottom lip so hard her teeth puncture through. He slams her head against the desk.
"If I'm gonna die, I'll have you first you whore!" he yells and starts prying her legs open. She fights back, but it's only a short matter of time before he achieves his goal.
The 7th, 8th, 9th rapists and Peter all gang up on me at once, wanting to put an end to my spree of necessity. I shank the 8th in the stomach and smack Peter over the head, but the 7th and 9th grab me right after, slamming me against the wall and holding me while I struggle against them, growling in frustration, teeth snapping at their hands and faces that evade my reach. Peter steps up to me and pries the knife from my fingers, giggling at my attempts.
"You just killed hella people, and for what?! These whores? We were y'best chance of livin' y'fuckin' 'tard! Y'don't even understan' what y'done… Hmm… yu're Irish right? Yeh… I think I'll give you a rat's smile… It seems like y'deserve it. It'll go gud with that angry face," he says with surprising intelligence for someone higher than a fucking kite, a putrid smile diluting his face, his rancid breath filling my un-wanting nostrils. I'd rather smell his blood.
I snicker and head-butt Peter. He backs away with an unsatisfied grunt, leaving just enough room for me to try something crazy. I kick the knife out of Peter's right hand with my left foot and pull my right arm with all my strength to bring the 9th rapist closer and shield me from the impact. The blade flies into the forehead of the 9th guy, luckily not into my own, shocking everyone, even me though I refuse to show it.
With my now free hand, I unfold my own knife and stab the last unnamed rapist in the sternum. Peter lunges for Kevin's knife, but I grasp a fistful of hair and bring him to my level, holding him for Jamal to see.
"You let her go or I'll fuck your brother with this knife," I threaten and Jamal holds Georgia still. Eyes wavering like he's having trouble focusing. Brian and Spencer both stare at the sight with fear, unsure what I might do with them for allowing such atrocities to occur.
"Go ahead," he smirks, flipping Georgia on her stomach. "We'll both go at the same time," He jeers, shoving his boxers down fully.
I fling the blade and it hits his shoulder, giving Georgia the opportunity to shove him away, but he grabs her before she gets far. Georgia gives me a plea, and I respond with my only option.
UNLEASH!
"Remember, he said I could," I say before sharply snapping Peter's flimsy neck. Jamal stutters, a whimpering/weeping sound escaping his lips before he reaches for my knife in his shoulder. I rush, lunge forward, and shove my hand against Georgia's neck, the back of my hand grazing her skin just in time to have the knife get halfway through the palm of my left hand. He releases the blade, confused as to why I'm not showing pain at the wound, eyes fixated on mine.
I leave the blade there and pull Georgia toward me with the same arm, and delivering a massive haymaker with my right fist to Jamal's now broken cheekbone. He cowers on the ground, backing away from us while I check on Georgia. She's crying still, clinging to me with a whole new sort of appreciation. I remove my blade from my hand, feeling no pain as I withdrawal it from my embedded flesh, and stick it in my pocket. I quickly examine the wound for what it might mean in terms of future damage. I flex and can move it fully, no tendons or nerve ending severed. It didn't puncture any bones from the feel of it either, though it's bleeding as expected. I fix Georgia's clothing so that she's no longer exposed and slide my hoodie over her, hoping it'll help her calm down some, keep her warm at least.
"Everything is gonna be okay, go to Henry, I'll be out in a minute," I whisper in her ear, freeing Brian and Spencer and handing her off to them, who catch her and pull her outside to the others. I wield the knife in my right hand and approach the crazed coward, thinking of the best punishment available.
I stand before him, a hate that I haven't experienced since the last time I saw my father alive emerging from the depths of my heart. A more twisted smile creeps onto my face as he cowers before me, more happiness than adrenaline as I watch him, looking more like the trapped rat that waits for the snake to make its final fatal strike.
"Do you know what I've done to men like you in the past? The sins I've enacted just so that the girls your kind has taken advantage of will know some sort of justice, peace. You fucking people… you RAPISTS… I WILL MURDER YOU ALL… and guess who gets the best punishment?" I taunt as I approach him. He runs, throws a desk at me, and makes for the door. I move away from the incoming desk and charge for the door. He gets it open, only to have me grab him by the hair and drag him back inside.
"HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!!" he cries out.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED WITH YOU YET!!" I bellow, and Henry shuts the door for me.
"You wanna know what rape feels like? HERE!!!" I laugh wickedly, slamming his face down ten times to stun him. While he's stunned I go grab the metal pole from the neck of the dead rapist, bend Jamal over, and, after much struggle and force, shove the metal pole up his asshole, blood instantly gushing out. He screams in pain so vividly it paints a perfect picture for those outside, those he tried to hurt. This is what he tried to do to them. I repeat the process about six more times, holding him down by the back of his neck with my bloody left hand.
"DO YOU THINK I'M DONE WITH YOU!?!" I growl, throwing him to the floor, pole still half shoved up his sphincter. He shrivels up in a little ball, sobbing pitifully, just waiting for the torment to end. I stomp on his face twice and slice both tendons on his wrists with my knife so he can't fight back, blood flowing out quicker than anticipated. His screams call out so viciously that the heavens gaze down on the scene and smile with me. Jamal begs me after that, pleads with me, so I did the only logical thing. I rip the pole from his ass and wipe off the blood and shit, knowing I'll need to use it as a weapon once more. He whimpers and sobs louder than ever, like a child at his own mother's funeral.
I drag him out the class, passing the others who stare at me with a newfound terror. They ogle the struggling body, staring at the trail of blood seeping from his anus. I struggle up the stairs to the roof, dragging my unwilling participant with me the whole time. Once we actually reach the roof I yank him by his hair to the side, holding him near the edge of the building. We both glance downward, seeing the infected from earlier still waiting for the doors to open downstairs. He looks back at me and shakes his head fast, opening him mouth to mutter more pleas and wishes. I have nothing to hear from rapists though.
Nothing but their screams of agony.
"Die," I smirk, and let go of his body. He tries to grab me with his weak hands, only to barely brush my skin before falling over the side where the infected wander. He screams thuds hard on the ground. They pounce on him happily and tear through his body like it's the last meal they'll ever encounter. His screams grow, attracting other infected in the area to him, and a smile breaks across my face, not one of darkness, but of happiness.
"Maybe we do have a way to get out of here," I think to myself, a grin pulling at the edges of my mouth. For the first time all day, something good has finally happened out of the darkest day in history. Something amongst the misery…
Then I glance at the surrounding areas and my face flat-lines instantly.
Outside of the school, the streets are packed with infected and pieces of bodies… Every street is peppered with infected, no survivors anywhere to be found, just the ghost town of a warzone… The whole town is gone, extinct… the world is dead… and we're completely alone… trapped in a prison we've already been trapped in for four long years… And I snap back from the darkness to myself, the rain and absolution resolving all of my previous fears…
I was right…
Not all of us are going to make it out…
~*~