12.| New King Of The School

Before The Fall

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I hear nothing but Zeke's screams and curses over the wind. He writhes on the ground, clutching his arm where Jake snapped it at the wrist. The crowd stares in shock and fear, but I know what this means. Jake has just made his move.

"Go on, lil doctor. Go help your friend." Jake chuckles, tearing open a bag of chips. He shoves a handful in his mouth, crunching loudly.

He doesn't care about Zeke. He doesn't care about anyone but himself.

This is how he rules. With fear. I learned about it in school last year. Some leaders are insecure and use fear to keep others in line. They don't want anyone to question them or challenge them. They want absolute control.

Jake is one of them. He hates to lose. He hates anyone who stands up to him. The first time I saw him I knew he was nothing but a bully and tyrant. No better than a dictator.

He snaps his fingers at me, and I feel overwhelmed with hatred.

"Earth to fucktard, did you hear me? Go help your friend. I'll need the numbers later." He speaks with his mouth full, spitting crumbs on his black sweater.

I feel a violent urge to smash his mug face in and make him bleed. But that would just be suicide. He has just displayed his power to everyone, and his ruthless intention to crush anyone who defies him. He is leader now, and he has issued his ultimatum; You are either loyal to me, or you are my enemy.

He knew how to instill fear in our minds, to make us wonder what horrors he could inflict upon us. That it could be worse than him.

Him, as in Zeke. Worse, as in anything from a broken arm to maybe even death.I'm sure he left the answer open ended as a deliberate reminder. To let our imaginations run wild with the worst possible scenarios. Our darkest nightmares.

I sprint towards Zeke and kneel beside him in the snow.

When my mother worked down the road at Mercy hospital, and my father was too busy at Biotechs, I'd drop by and watch her as she fixed patients in conditions worse than Zeke's.

I used to resent it, because I wanted to join my father in his research. But now I'm grateful I stayed and learned from her. Because of my mother, I have some skills that we need now that the world has gone to shit. 

"Deep breaths," I tell Zeke. He is sweating profusely and panting heavily. I touch his forehead and feel the heat radiating from his skin. He has a fever.

"That fucker cheated, if he hadn't thrown that snow in my eyes like a pussy, then I would've had him." Zeke clenches his teeth.

I try to distract him from the pain by saying. "Yeah, you had that idiot right where you wanted him, buddy." 

He attempts to sit up but collapses again, a scream of agony tearing from his throat. It's worse than before, he bangs his head on the concrete as if that would help him cope.

"Damn it, stop moving so I can examine it! Do you think you can fight him with your broken arm?" I whisper harshly. "We'll get him back."

I turn my head slightly to look at Zeke for a long moment–the fire of hatred and vengeance blazes in his blue eyes–then he meets my gaze with a weary nod.

Good. Stay alive first, get even later.

That's what my father always taught me when my anger got the better of me. I never understood why, but it always worked. Maybe it's because I realized that I only had power over my own emotions, and that made me feel strong.

"Don't move." I warn him and brace myself mentally before looking down at the damage he's suffered.

His bone has pierced through his skin, leaving a bloody and gaping wound. I can see the white of it sticking out from the torn flesh, stained red.

The sight makes me nauseous, but I'm the only one among us who has some idea of what to do in a situation like this. And right now, he needs medical attention.

"How bad is it?" Zeke gasps out, spit dripping from his bottom lip from his labored breathing.

"It's bad." He could lose his arm, and without proper antibiotics, he has a high risk of sepsis. That would be a horrible way to go.

Zeke swears under his breath, and I hear the others whispering while Jake is assigning people to search the school. "How fucking bad is it?"

"I don't know for sure," I close my eyes briefly, trying to recall the words my mother used when she helped a kid who broke his leg a few years ago.

"It looks like a compound fracture. You'll need surgery to realign the bone." But there's no chance we'll get to the hospital with everything that's going on. The odds of escaping this school right now are slim. We don't have a car.

"Will he be okay?" I hear Rose ask and I glance at her.

"He needs to go to the hospital." 

Zeke sighs. "I swear god hates me."

"Didn't your mom show you how to make a sprint?" Rose asks.

"She did but we're on a roof with nothing to use." I look over at Jake. He smirks at me, continuing to list the things he wants people to bring back for him from inside the school. 

Rose sits down on the roof next to Zeke, putting a hand on his good arm. "He wants us to go inside the school anyway, Ian. That's why I came over here."

That fucking bastard. First he breaks Zeke's arm, then acts like some kind of king giving orders. My nose flares and I stand up, feeling my hands clenched into fists. I need to calm down. If I lose my cool I won't stand a chance against everyone who sides with Jake..

"Fine, let's do what he wants and get back here as fast as we can." I say to Rose and she nods.

***

Jake pairs me and Rose with two others, and we venture into the school with the same weapons we wielded to escape four days ago. The silence inside is unsettling, and I spot more bullet shells on the main hallway floor.

We pass by the front office, where Mrs. Gaiza and Mr. Smith used to sit behind their desks, sorting papers. 

Now it is vacant and quiet, except for the door that squeaks open and closed. 

I notice that the large glass window has a crack and two holes in it. Papers and folders are flung everywhere inside.

The drawers are either open or hanging out, spilling their contents on the floor. The sight gives me chills. It's hard to believe that this place was once normal. Now it is a nightmare.

I wonder if this is how school shootings feel like. The chaos, the dead bodies, the deafening silence that follows. But at least those people had a chance to see their rescuers. We have no one but ourselves to escape this hell.

I point to the office door, hoping to find some medical supplies, but a blonde-haired girl with blue eyes shakes her head and points to the paper she clutches in her hand.

Her name is Paula. She was Rose's rival in academics, but with a nasty attitude. Everyone dubs her the teacher's pet. When someone's in charge, leave it up to Paula to kiss their ass; and now that Jake proclaimed himself leader, she is fawning over him.

I inch closer to her and whisper. "Medical supplies first. Do you want someone to die because of you?"

She turns pale and glances at the paper in her hand, then looks at me. "Fine, but if we waste too much time and he gets angry at me, I'm pinning it on you." She flips her hair over her shoulder and juts out her hip.

I shrug. Jake will probably find a reason to be pissy with us anyway, so we might as well do something useful and get the supplies that Zeke needs.

No use in arguing with her, so I switch the topic. "You two stay here and guard the door. If anything happens, just knock on the glass. I can see you clearly from here."

They nod and I head to the other side where the door is. I always hated this place. If it wasn't Jack nagging about my grades, it was Principal Riley. They were always in league together.

Through the broken window of the front office, I see Principal Riley's door ajar. His metal name plate glimmers in the red flashing lights.

I step into the office, avoiding the shards and splinters of glass on the beige carpet. 

Originally I had planned to go to the nurse's office, but that's too far from here. It's three hallways away. Paula would lose her shit if I tried to go there. She already had an issue with me making a detour to get some medical supplies that were right in front of us.

My grip tightens on the metal chair leg as I walk around the front desk. There are two bodies on the floor, next to their black office chairs. Mrs. Gaiza and Mr. Smith.

They are face down. I know them without seeing their faces. Mrs. Gaiza has auburn hair with gray streaks. She always tied it in a low ponytail with a black clip. 

Mr. Smith wore a watch that his mother gave him before she died of lung cancer last year.

I don't get too close. I don't know if they are really dead. We thought Ms. Darcy was dead too, until she turned into one of them.

I flip her skinny body over with my foot, and leap back just in case.

Her dead eyes stare at the ceiling, with a bullet hole in her head. I cover my nose. She smells awful. Green stuff oozes out of her eyes and a fly crawls out of her mouth.

They had both been shot and bitten on the neck several times.

I hear growls coming from Principal Riley's office. Either he's one of them, or someone trapped an infected inside. I'll never find out. I'm not going to be the idiot that checks and regrets it later. 

I pull the door shut as quietly as I can, then wait, listening to see if the thing heard me or not. When I'm sure it didn't, I turn the corner and sneak into the supplies office.

It's the best we can do for medical supplies since the nurses office is too far away.

Surprisingly, it's neat here. There's no bullet holes in the panda painted walls. The curtains are drawn open around the beds covered in white sheets of pepper.

I check all the drawers and find a 100 count pack of gauze, alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. In the cabinets, I manage to get some numbing ointment and ibuprofen that can help ease Zeke's fever. 

After stuffing what I can in my deep pockets, I walk back around the corner and head for the front.

Just as I'm passing Principle Riley's door, it bursts off its hinges, grazes my arm, and crashes on top of the two dead bodies I checked earlier.

I freeze, torn between running for the door or hiding in one of the other office cubicles nearby. I won't make it out of the office in time.

A growl tears through the air and I drop on all fours and move into one of the other open rooms. My back hits the wall and I peek to see what it is.

I hear a sharp tapping on the floor, like someone is wearing heels. But when it steps into the hallway, I can see it's not a person. It's a k-9 dog, or what's left of one. Its fur is patchy and matted, its ear is torn at the tip; and its cheek is ripped open, revealing its teeth and gums.

But the worst part is the three gashes on the k-9's ribcage, so deep they look like black pits filled with raw ground up meat.

That dog should be dead. Nothing could live with those kinds of injuries. 

The mangled K-9 dog sniffs the air, then snaps his head in my way. 

I shrink back from the door and press myself against the wall once more. It's coming for me, I can hear it.

His nails clack on the linoleum floor, and I grip the chair leg ready, ready to swing if I have to. 

Be quiet. I tell myself. 

They have poor eyesight, but they can hear everything. I try to steady my breathing, but it's hard when my heart is pounding in my chest.

The k-9 passes by the door, his jaw slack and dripping green saliva that sizzles when it drips on the floor. It doesn't see me. 

I let out a sigh of relief, but then clang echoes from the cabinet across from the door.

The k-9 whips his head toward me, and I stiffen in fear. What the hell was that noise? 

I glance at the metal storage cabinet, and catch a pair of eyes peering at me through the crack. Someone else is hiding there, and they must have shifted and knocked something over.

The k-9 springs and lands on the teachers break room table, shattering plates and cups. The table is still littered with breakfast food before everything happened, some of it sprouting fuzzy mold.

I'm not a believer, but I beg any god who might listen to spare me from this beast. To keep it from ripping me apart like Ms. Darcy did to Jane.

The k-9 sniffs in the air, then swivels its head toward me. I don't move as sweat trickles down my back. It prowls to the edge of the table, and when it's just about to jump down, another clang comes from the cabinet.

We both look. The person inside slams the door open and shut to grab the k-9's attention. They are trying to help me by creating a diversion. 

I rise slowly and the k-9 rams its shoulder against the cabinet. Its teeth gnaw at the steel, making the person inside shriek. I can do this. I can kill it.

Without hesitation, I rush at the dog and smash it in the back of the head with all my strength, caving in its skull. He stops thrashing against the metal and turns to me.

Good. I have it where I want it.

It lunges at me but I'm already sprinting out of the break room and into the hallway. All I have to do is lock it in one of these rooms, but first it has to think it's hunting me, that I'm defenseless.