Zombie High (25 page)

Reaching out, you attempt to retrieve your tool,
but it stubbornly refuses to come loose, and you resort to
pulling out another screwdriver from your pocket to fend
off the remaining three zombies in the room with you.
Noticing that one of them used to be a kid you knew
named Jason is more aggressive than the other two, you
turn to face him bringing your hammer to bear. As he
steps in for his next attempt, you swing the hammer into
the side of his face, clearly dislocating his jaw.
Unfortunately, in doing so, you leave too much of your
other side exposed, and before you have a chance to spin
back around, you feel the cold grip of another zombie as
he grabs your left forearm.

Turning quickly, you clock the creature in the head
with the hammer a half second before it bites your flesh
and find yourself smiling a wicked Joker smile as you do it.
Clearly the delusion that you might make it out of here
alive is really going to your head. It’s in this moment that
Jason with his broken jaw steps forward and sinks the top
half of his jaw onto your shoulder. The bite itself doesn’t
break the skin because he lacks a bottom jaw to apply
much force with, but it proves to be the only distraction
the last remaining zombie needs.

As you turn back to Jason and kick him off you,
sending him reeling back where he cracks his head on the
urinal hard enough to crack the porcelain and have filthy
water and urine gush down over his face, the fifth zombie
makes its move and bites into your left arm. You struggle
for a second with this zombie, already knowing the
outcome, but determined to kill it before you turn. With
it dispatched, you find yourself slumping down to the dirty
blood-streaked floor cradling your bitten arm. You don’t
know how long it will be until you turn, but as tears soak
the front of your shirt, you think to yourself that this has
got to be about the worst place to die.

Deciding that it is pointless to hide in such a small
space because the creatures would probably smell you
and that fighting them all is tantamount to suicide, you
choose the only remaining option, escape. Running over
to the window, you realize that there is no way you’re
going to be able to reach it and climb out, at least not
from the floor. That’s when you get the bright idea of
climbing on top of the toilet.

Opening the door to the stall, you find the typical
things in the typical places including a cheerleader’s
phone number scrawled onto the wall in black marker. If
it wasn’t for the zombie apocalypse, you have a feeling
said cheerleader would probably be either making out
with someone in a somewhat semi-secluded spot in the
school or planning to do so this weekend while under the
bleachers at the next game. As ill as it may be to talk
about people behind their backs, some people do tend to
bring it on themselves with the actions and choices they
seem to habitually make. Either way, you don’t really
have the time to contemplate this right now, and you
promise yourself that if you do ever see her alive again,
you’ll tell her it’s in here.

Stepping up on the toilet, you lean as far as you can
and reach for the window just as the zombies come
walking in the bathroom. Your fingers are able to reach
the ledge, and you try to push against the glass, but the
window refuses to budge. That’s when you realize that
the latch is closed. Desperate to escape, you lean over
even further, stretching your body to its limit, and that’s
when you feel your feet slide out from under you.
Apparently toilet seats weren’t meant to be stood on and
were certainly never designed to have the weight placed
upon them all coming from one side. The toilet itself stays
put, but the two hinges holding the seat in place simply
snap off from your leaning on it, and as you fall, your foot
lands calf deep in the toilet water.

Disgusted and out of time, you try to lift your foot
from the toilet so that you can try again only to feel a
sharp pain in your ankle. You immediately realize that you
either broke or twisted something internally when your
foot went in, and that it is stuck down in the bottom of
the bowl where all the nasty stains are. Desperate, you
try to block out the pain as you wiggle the foot with a little
pulling to try to get it out, but the thing refuses to move,
and your whole leg seems like it’s been lit on fire every
time you try to move it.

It’s at this point that the first zombie, the one who
used to be known as Jason when he was part of the living,
bumps his way into the stall. Looking back you realize
that in your haste you neglected to lock the bathroom
door, and now with your foot stuck in the bottom of a
toilet, you are pretty much guaranteed to have a crappy
ending.

Clearly you can see that this is not someone you
want to mess with. He might be old, and he might even
be senile, but the way he holds that shotgun tells you that
if you make one wrong move, you’ll find yourself with a
lot of extra lead in your diet. You risk trying to back away
slowly with your hands raised, but find that your bad leg
still can’t support your weight and end up falling on your
butt. The old man with the gun, however, shows you no
mercy despite your predicament, and simply closes the
door.

Shaking your head at his lack of sympathy and
rudeness, forgetting the fact that technically you did
trespass onto his property, you steady yourself against the
house and stand back up on your good leg. Gritting your
teeth, you prepare for the throbbing sensations which are
going to come with each hop because staying out here
isn’t an option worth trying.

Making it back to the corner of the house isn’t too
bad, and when you turn to head for the fence you manage
to stay upright, only at the cost of a few branches from of
the old man’s bush.
Oh well
, you think, I’m getting out of
here like he asked as fast as I can. Once at the fence, you
find that the lock for the fence door is easily within reach,
and you figure that finally you caught yourself a break.
Unfortunately, when you open the fence door, you find
that you have company in the form of two hungry
zombies. You try to back up, hoping you can close the
door again and leave them outside, but it’s too late.
Maybe if you hadn’t jumped out of that window and
injured yourself, you could have done more.

Having had a miserable excuse for a breakfast this
morning, and figuring that with this most likely being the
beginning of the end of the world and all, you decide that
food is your first priority. Granted, weapons might make
the looting a bit easier, or at least survivable, but no, you
listen to your stomach first. The way you figure it is that
you have no idea where your next meal is going to come
from, and if you’re fixing to team up, you want to make
sure you get yours before they go dividing up your stash.
Speaking of stash, you remember the fact that you still
have some food in your locker, but that, you figure, is
under lock and key so to speak, and you can always
retrieve it later. The rest of the available food in the
building will probably disappear before too long as any
other scavengers like yourself realize that they’re going to
be getting hungry, too, in the next hour or so when the
cafeteria ladies fail to have that yummy piece of
cardboard covered in cheese and re-hydrogenated bacon
bits that they call pizza ready at the next bell.

Considering your options, the best you can come
up with is that there are two good sources for food in this
school, the cafeteria which should have already begun
their preparations for lunch and the vending machine in
the back hall. Both areas are pretty close together, and
there is a chance you could score food from both places,
but that might weigh you down too much. Looks like
you’ll have to make a choice.

While the vending machines would have food, you
realize that you don’t have that much money on you and
decide to head for the cafeteria. You’re not exactly sure
about what will be down there, and you have no intention
of carrying around a half dozen styrofoam trays ladled
with whatever goop is in those warming vats today, but
you figure you’ll probably find something in the back.
Worse case, a Costco sized can of chocolate pudding or
Spaghetti-Os could always be used as a weapon if it comes
down to it.

Heading for the cafeteria first, you trek back up the
hall to the stairs and then go down to the first floor.
When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you cautiously
poke your head out to make sure the coast is clear and
then quickly head towards the cafeteria - which lucky for
you is only about a hundred feet away.

During the day, the cafeteria is typically used by
over eight hundred students, the five hundred plus that
attend St. Mary’s and another two hundred or so that
walk over from the middle school across the street
because they don’t have a cafeteria in their building.
Luckily, all of the high school lunch traffic doesn’t get
started until third hour, and the middle school doesn’t
come over until later after the high schoolers have eaten.

Entering the cafeteria, you expect to see the usual
setup of tables and chairs positioned around the room
and the standard five or six posters with celebrities telling
you to drink milk hanging on the walls. What you find,
however, is that the main dining area has been converted
into a last-stand type of barricade. Tables have been
moved to block your path just a few feet in, some of
which were actually attached to the floor but have since
been removed by force as if someone ripped the bolts out
rather than unscrew them. Chairs and trash cans have
been used to fill in any gaps and it takes you a second
before you can find a safe way to get through. Stepping
over to the far end, you try to peer over to see the rest of
the cafeteria only to find what little view you have is
nothing more than that of a newly cleared space.
Considering this is the probably the only good way in, you
reach up to grab hold of the first chair leg so that you can
climb over the mess when a voice stops you.

You’re not sure who it is, but you can tell the voice
is that of another student. Rather than continue and risk
being hit in the head with something, you freeze in place,
and say, “I’m just trying to get to the kitchen.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” says the voice. “How
do we know you’re not one of those things out there?”
Dropping your hand back to your side, you opt for a
sarcastic remark when you say, “Well there is the fact that
we’re talking right now, and I’m not a mindless zombie
whose only purpose in life is to eat your brains.”
Another voice from somewhere behind the stacks
whispers, “I told you they were zombies.”
“Shut up,” says the first voice to whoever is back
there before it begins to address you again. “Okay, so you
might not be one of them, but maybe you’re going to turn
into one. We don’t need you getting on this side of the
wall.”
Stretching your arms out to either side, you do a
slow turn and say, “Look, genius, no bite marks. I’m clean.
Now let me in,” making sure to put some attitude into
your words.
“What if the bite is somewhere other the arms?”
whispers the second voice.
Responding to the whisperer you say, “Yeah, and
what if monkeys flew out your butt?” Then lifting your
shirt enough to expose your stomach and your lower
back, you do another turn and say, “Look, this is all you
get.”
Calling back, the first voice says, “We still don’t
know if you’re clean. All we have is your word.”
“Well, I’m not stripping down out here while you’re
safe behind that wall.” Then deciding to mess them a bit
since neither of them sounded very smart, you add,
“Besides, how do I know you’re safe? Maybe one of you
got bitten, and you’ve been hiding it from the other one.”
From the other side, a still silence settles over
everything for a full minute, and you know the two of
them are staring each other down. Then one of them
breaks in with a whisper, asking, “Did you get bitten?”
“No,” responds the other one. “Did you?”
“No,” answers the first incredulously. Then he
adds, “Let me see.”
“You first,” responds the other one.
There is an awkward pause from the other side as
the two consider things, and then you hear one of them
suggest, “Same time?”
“Same time,” agrees the second one, and then you
hear the two of them begin unbuckling their belts and
pulling down their zippers.
Figuring they are preoccupied now with their
mistrust, you take advantage of the situation and begin to
quietly climb the stack. When you get to the top and are
able to see the other side, you find two of the school’s
football players standing on the other side wearing just
their jock straps. Why they’re wearing them this early is
beyond your comprehension, but the sight is one which
you wish you could burn from your eyes as neither of
these guys are what one would consider ‘at their peak’.
Swinging your other leg over, you hop down and
say, “You boys play nice with each other. I’m just going to
go to the kitchen for a minute.”
“Hey, wait. You can’t go back there,” says the
larger of the two as he steps forward. “We still don’t
know if you’ve been bitten.”
Stepping out from the kitchen into the main dining
area, you see Andrew Werth, another football player, and
he says, “Clearly this one isn’t a zombie. If so, that would
mean you two meat heads were even more brain dead
than one of those things out there. Now put your friggin’
clothes back on and get back to guarding that wall.”
Pointing to you, he says, “And you, come with me.”
When he gets you into the kitchen, he says,
“They’re not as bad as you might think, so while that was
funny, try not to confuse them any more than they
already are. Trevor, Cable, and I found those two lugs
hiding out in the bathroom across the hall when this
whole thing started. We decided it would be easier to
defend ourselves if we could find someplace to hold up
and barricade ourselves in. They suggested the cafeteria.
At first, I thought it was just because they were hungry,
but then they said the tables and stuff could be used as
cover. Those two brutes ripped the screws right out of
the walls and built that whole thing. Since then over a
half dozen of those zombie creatures have passed by and
not a one of them have found us.”
“That’s great. I’m glad it’s working out for you, but
I really just came to get some food.”
Shaking his head, Andrew says, “That’s what I was
about to say. Now that you’re in here, we can’t let you go
back out.”
“Why not? I’m the one risking my neck.”
“Every time you climb through, you expose us that
much more. Right now they don’t know we’re back here,
but if they see you climbing around, they might figure it
out.”
“These are the brain dead, shuffle around, flesh
eating zombies. They’re not capable of climbing over
things and figuring things out. This isn’t Hollywood. They
aren’t going to start running up the side of walls to get to
us.”
Shaking his head again, Andrew says, “I’m sorry,
but we can’t risk it. You’re not one of them, and you have
no idea what they may or may not be capable of.
Personally, I have no intention of getting bit to find out
what they can and cannot do,” raising his voice a little
louder at the end.
Remaining calm, you say, “Well, you’re going to
find out sooner than you want to if you keep raising your
voice like that. Hollywood or not, these things seem to be
attracted to sound as well as the sight of prey.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” says Andrew in a lower
voice. “You figure out anything else, like maybe how to
get rid of them?”
“Aim for the head. Whatever happens, you have to
destroy the brain. It’s the only one consistent thing we
know about zombies from any book, movie, or TV show.”
“Okay, looks like we’re going to need some
weapons,” says Andrew.
“I agree, but like I said, I still need to get some food
and get out of here. I’ve got people upstairs counting on
me,” you say. At first it looks like he’ll protest, but hearing
that there are other survivors who are counting on you
gives him pause. Seizing the opportunity, you play on this
factor and add, “I also need to get some weapons and a
first aid kit. They’re counting on me.”
Across the kitchen, Trevor says, “How about we use
these?” just before he tries to jump up and unhook a large
frying pan from the rack hanging above the workstation.
He doesn’t have enough height, however, as he grabs hold
of one, and he ends up pulling the heavily loaded rack
down when it proves unable to hold his weight in addition
to the fifteen or so cast iron pots and pans. The
cacophony of noise in the room is deafening, and you
immediately reach up to cover your ears as the pots and
pans continue to bounce and clatter their way across the
tile floor.
When they finally stop, all eyes fall on Trevor, and
the first words out of your mouth are, “What the …?” but
you’re cut off before you can finish by the two guys from
the barricade, now dressed, thankfully, running into the
room.
Trevor tries to squeak out a weak sounding
apology, but you barely hear it over the big guy’s words,
“Whatever you all did, I think they heard it.”
From just beyond the dining area, a hallow moan
comes through the door and slices into your soul. Looking
to the big guy, you ask, “H-h-how many of them?”
Thinking for a minute, he says, “I…uh…ain’t so good
at math and stuff, but it’s a lot. I guess, maybe, all of
them.”
“Good job, Trevor,” begins Cable sarcastically.
“Stow it,” barks Andrew. “We don’t need to be
going after one another. There are plenty of monsters out
there to do that for us.”
Picking up one of the pans, Trevor says, “Can’t we
use these to defend ourselves? I mean, we could just
bash them in the head as they come over the wall.”
Shaking his head, Andrew says, “The wall is more
for cover than actual defense. Nothing is screwed
together or attached to anything. It’s all just stacked up
out there. With that many zombies coming, it’ll fall like a
kid’s sand castle when the waves come crashing ashore.”
“So, what are you thinking?” you ask.
“I’m thinking this sucks, but I’ve got an idea,” says
Andrew. “It’ll take me a second to get it going though.
You all think you can buy me a little time?”
Everyone but you in the room nods. You notice
that there is something off in Andrew’s look. Something
about it makes him seem a little crazy, just like when St.
Mary’s played Heavenly Child in the homecoming game
earlier in the year, and he pulled an illegal move which
hyperextended the knees of two players on the other
side. He got booted from the game, but St. Mary’s won,
thanks to him incapacitating two of Heavenly Child’s best.
When he looks at you, you know you have to make
a decision.