Zombies scraping at the door spilled over. A whirlpool of hate distrust and a general sense of desperation for all involved. I turn to my right the crunching of bones and cartridge takes me over screws my feet in place as well as weakens it's integrity.
I hate that I can't move. That I can't shake the feeling of helplessness that has me in its snake-like grasp. It's as if a cobra thrice my width suffocates me; my little movements in a half baked attempts to break free. Much worse is its sadistic hold, how it holds me hostage to my circumstances, how it makes..scratch that. FORCES me to watch as kids half my age and twice the former have their skin torn off and turned into zombie chowder.
I turn away at the sight of the pain..just..pain.
Tackled mollywhopped if you will; I was but a second later as my science partner took a fist sized bite of my shoulder.
His sunken jaw dug till it hit bone. My body lifeless on the ground being bitten into; I can't move fear has me.
People always talk about if they'd freeze up in dangerous situations like this. If they'd fight the bad guy or if they would be the loser in the corner sitting themselves over a loud sound.
Safe to say I was the latter
My body sprawled across the ground. Timmy the one that thinks I look like a snack; was always weaker than those around him, I'm the opposite.
If only I could tell that to his teeth stapled to my arm he tugs hit body back. I'm assuming to rip the muscle out.
Lucky me I say as a zombie weak enough for me half my size to chulk off of me. The window made of cubes of glass placed together glowed bright enough to make all this almost worth it.
A student, a kid in art as well as a cadet but also hangs out with band kids and football players.
Strange as it is he runs over to the window. And braces against it; it will never move its cement and hasn't made a budge since the start of the school year 2 months ago. A good 300 esk pounds. At least 2 other people to open.
Doomed he struggles, it refuses to move.
As if God himself willed it, it started raining with a clear sky. It is Florida after all.
It starts slow but slowly it gets louder loud enough that you couldn't hear cries coming from other classrooms.
Tommy starts to twitch.
He stands up and moves, like when you move away from a fly in his face. Soon enough all zombies stop fighting and make the same motions when the rain loud enough to hurt your ears starts, they soon find themselves on the ground. Tommy rhythed in pain just beside me. The little shit looked like he was getting his brain liquefied.
I turned to the now dozens of people pushing against the glass frame. It budges, the water probably played just as much of a hand in all this.
The word kid started ramming his shoulder into the wall. The rest followed suit, the uneven blocks were then pushed out the other side.
Eight when things began looking up the rain slightly eased up with Tommy who went deathly still. He was going to screw it up; he was going to recreate the scene.
I got up and punched his face as red with my own blood as he was already, I sunk my fingers into his. NO. The ZOMBIES eyes. I will not let him recreate the pain and uselessness I felt to others again.
I punch, for my arm, for my bruised ego for the very notion that this twig of a man had me at his whim.
The touch of a hand on my shoulder stops me in my madness my fist is covered in blood with his brain matter on my shirt, on my hands, even my face. His skull now a bowl of brain matter sprawled into soup.
I cry. So loud it snapped others in my direction. The hand on my shoulder belonged to the weird kid, the now leader of us still alive and kicking.
The rain was getting progressively weaker. Slowly but surely this would rehash. He told us "grab a block. End the fuckers."
Almost in unison brain matter proceeded to be splattered all around as if a banquet of flowers was being thrown all over.
Friends killing friends, lovers bashing the heads of their beloved and of course those who refused to partake and instead held the convulsing zombies in their arms. Forced to part with them they cried out.
Cries to what "should" have been. What should have happened today: a chunk taken out of the glass fortress was easily brushed to the side. School buses faced away from us.
The weird kid jumped straight onto the wall surrounding the school a few feet away. Guess Noone thought anyone would go through breaking a window sealed with cement and glass.
Lucky us I guess.
We all followed suit, some faster than others, many ended up with at best slightly sprained feet and at worst not being able to walk.
He went up to a bus with it's door opened and led us into it. He didn't plan to help anyone else I guess.
He led a few of us back to the wall while the wound on my shoulder stinging in pain.
They returned with the blocks saying to use them to protect themselves. Some chose not to risk it as it was pouring out, and some started fiddling with The drivers station.
He grabbed the big microphone on the driver's side. He went to the side of the bus and shouted into it " KILL THEM WHILE THEY'RE WEAK" the hate he has for them must be what drives him to survival.
The bus started. They successfully hotwired it I thought as I sat in the middle seat of the bus. He pointed at 2 other buses and I saw some students bash in the door And after some time started the 2 other buses.
he Planned to raise the survival as high as possible I guess. If only it stayed that way.
The rain stopped abruptly and 3 zombies stood up inside the third bus. Slaughtering all those inside.
Dozens outside running towards it with just as many glued to their seats. By the time he arrived all inside were dead. The zombie in question that caused this was the wrestling coach, a 6"5 man built like an avenger.
The rair restarted and he was handed 2 glass blocks by those around that stepped down after the size difference became clear. It lunged at him, swiping its hands towards him and blocked my glass.
After some time the glass broke down and he could no longer defend. The zombie got on top of him leg locked him and the proceeded to bare knuckle punch him as he defended with only his arms.
A girl ran behind the zombie and smashed its head so hard the glass broke into a cube.
With new focus the coach lunged on top of her and planted teeth into her neck.
He was slow. Rain running down his face, his clothes soaked, he retrieved the cube of glass on the ground and a shard of the glass he used originally. He stayed in the same place the girl did before, only this time it was deep. It killed it almost immediately.
He stood over her and talked to her in her final moments. They smiled, laughed, and cried until..
…until her body began to convulse. Even as the rain covered his face his cries were clear as the blood stained his clothes. He begrudgingly planted the cube into her skull b4 she transformed into the thing that killed her.
Would I end up like that?
The thought shook me.
He walked into our bus after gesturing to the other to leave and follow us. We set off. A battle scar I called it as the wound started to fester and my mind began to get aggressive.
The sound of the rain becoming painfully to the ears my face started becoming pale and my arm became veiny like lickerish. The weird kid; now undertaker, walked up to me and told our driver to stop the bus.
He held my hand and told me that it'd be okay, which caused me to cry a little bit. Until it burned into the full water works he hugged me and told me it'd be alright. Losing sight of my right eye I saw my reflection like a shell of myself.
He took out the glass shard he used to kill the coach.
I wasn't scared, I was ready to end it, to keep my humanity, to have pride in dying a man and not an undead. I walked with him to the door of the bus; he placed the shard into my hand and the doors closed behind him.
"This was the end, the Mona to my Lisa. I never wanted much from life." My hands shake as my ears bleed blood. "I want..wanted to have a fun life with mia. The girl I had a crush on for the last 2 years. Have a home, a life, go on dates, maybe have a child but instead all I have is this."
I pull my hand back and set the shard into my eye. My death won't be remembered and my story won't be shared, but..we'll there isn't a but. Sucks to suck I guess