CHAPTER 5

It's prom! Music, bad dancing, punch spiking attempts, and zombie outbreaks.

Content Warning: Violence, mild horror themes and occasional strong language.

RECAP: When an unusual number of zombies (VMs) start attacking the underground sector system, you and your bagger friends sneak out of school to investigate. You successfully make it to the Beta Sector Research Laboratory and find a top secret report on Operation Tabletop, which may or may not be a shady government conspiracy to repopulate the surface of the earth. You also find Damien's girlfriend, Dana, locked in a cage. She's gone full meatbag, so you decide to put her out of her misery. Damien is super bummed, of course, but at least he's single! Now, as you continue to look around the lab for more clues, the overhead lights suddenly flicker on.

—

"That's not good," Jamie says, looking up and cocking his rifle. The rest of you follow suit.

There's a loud crash from outside the lab. Then the doors bust open and a wall of soldiers file in, guns aimed in a fan covering the lab from corner to corner. "Drop your weapons and show me your hands!" a voice shouts. A very familiar voice.

"Dad?" you say, tossing your pistol on the ground and raising your arms.

"Hold your fire!" General Valentine pushes through the line, his face flushed. "Jen?"

"Hey, Dad" you say.

You know he wants nothing better than to cuss you out right now, but instead he takes a deep breath and glances calmly over his shoulder. "Troops, stand down. Is everyone okay here? Anyone infected?"

You and everyone else—Damien, Val, Grace, Paulie, Biff, Jamie, and Jamie's girlfriend Angelina—mumble that you're all fine. Knowing that none of you are going to admit if you're even a little bit fecto, your dad makes you all line up so the troop medic can give you an antidote injection. But instead of the usual AZ-922, which just treats the most recent infection, this shot is so powerful that after you're done twitching and frothing at the mouth, you all come up "0" on the eye scanner. When you ask the medic about it, he gives you a sly smile. "This here is military grade, sweetheart." He drops the disposable tip of the hypodermic needle into a nearby toxic waste container with a wink and moves on down the line.

"Alright everyone," your dad barks when you've all recovered, "line up against that wall." You all obey immediately, and he spends the next five minutes informing you about how Principal Gupta is furious, your parents are all worried sick, and the US government is not too happy about spending valuable manpower and resources to hunt down a group of kids who think they can just go gallivanting between sectors like it's nothing. "What do you have to say for yourselves?" he demands.

You're a little annoyed by the fact that he's looking right at you when he says this. It's not like this whole Beta Sector trip was your idea. The others look at you too, and you wish you could remind them of that little fact. But maybe you should just go ahead and tell him the truth—you came to find out what happened to Dana. But that might lead to telling him a lot of other information you're not sure you want to share just yet... Plus, you're not sure how cool it would be with your new friends to immediately just spill everything to your dad. There's always Plan B: start sobbing and hope that distracts him. You haven't thrown a good hissy fit in a long time, but they always got you what you wanted when you were little.

"Daddddyyyy!" you wail, flinging yourself into his arms. "It was so terrible!"

"What is it, honey?" he asks, stroking your hair. This fatherly gesture is a clear indication that he's fallen for your act, so you decide to really lay on the drama.

"Our friend... Dana..." you choke out between sobs. "She's... oh, it's so horrible." You point towards the cage and your dad motions for a pair of troops to go collect her body.

"What happened?" he asks.

"She got... g-g-g-ot... b-b-b-b-it." You collapse against his chest, leaving a streak of snot and tears across his Kevlar vest.

"Shhh... Never mind all that, baby. You're safe now," he whispers in your ear. He turns back to his troops. "I want Special Unit Z on these kids every second until we get back to home sector. If any of them gets so much as breathed on by a meatbag before I return them safe to their mamas' arms, there's going to be hell to pay. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes sir." the troops shout in unison.

"Alright, let's fall in."

A line of soldiers wearing dark blue Zs on their uniforms step forward and form a circle around you and your friends. These are your new personal bodyguards, and they tell you to stay with them at all times.

"Way to go, Valentine," Grace whispers as you head out of the lab. "If this whole bagger thing doesn't work out for you, you should think about joining Drama Club."

The troops lead you back to the subway platform, but now there's a single car sitting on the tracks. This too is military grade—with thick windowless walls of reinforced steel and two cannon-like weapons on the back end. You all file in and take a seat while the military men position themselves and their guns around the perimeter of the car. Your dad shuts the door and says something into the little black box strapped to his shoulder. There's a sudden whirring noise as the engines are fired up, and then a small jolt as the car takes off.

"Well be home in no time," one of the soldiers assures you. "Old Bessie is the fastest thing underground"

You sit back and rest your head against the cool metal wall, and somehow you manage to drift off into sleep. You dream that you and Damien are driving in a real car like people did back in old movies. You slide up next to him on the seat, and he puts his arm around you while his other arm rests casually on the top of the steering wheel. He gives you a wink and starts singing along with the radio. I wanna know what love is, I want you to show me... Out of nowhere, a VM suddenly runs up alongside of the car, and Damien punches him in the face. Then Damien turns into a circus clown and hands you a bunch of red balloons, still singing, I wanna feel what love is, I know you can show me. Aaaah woah-oh-ooh...

A loud metal bang startles you awake. The soldiers have their guns aimed at the door of the subway car, and you realize the whirring of the engines is now silent.

"Mayday, mayday," your dad is shouting into his shoulder device. "We're under siege." He rattles off a string of numbers you assume indicates your position, and there's another bang from the other side of the door. Overhead, you hear a flurry of footsteps and murmuring, followed by more banging on the door.

"Hold your fire," General Valentine shouts. "Backup is on its way. Everybody just stay where you are."

In the seat behind you, Angelina starts whimpering. Jamie tells her to shut up, but that just makes her cry louder. Then she screams as the car begins rocking from side to side. Others join in with moans of horror as the rocking becomes more severe, but it's all drowned out by the crash of metal as each side of the car's wheels are repeatedly lifted off the tracks and slammed back down again.

"What do we do, sir?" one of the soldiers yells over the commotion. "If we tip over, we're toast."

"You got that right," your dad shouts back. "Time to see what the Sam Hill is going on out there. All guns prepare for ambush mode and wait for my call. Grier, hit the release on three. One..."

The soldiers scramble to find a steady position as the rest of you hold on to whatever you can to keep from sliding out of your seats.

"Two... three."

Grier hits the door release, and the hiss of the hydraulics makes your ears pop. You brace yourself for the noise of gunfire, but the rocking suddenly stops and there's nothing but silence.

"I don't see anything, sir" a soldier calls. "It's just an empty tunnel."

"Marshall! Qualls!" your dad barks. "Check out the situation. And remember, proceed with extreme cau—oh, dammit."

As the two soldiers step into the doorway, a pair of arms reaches from above and pulls Qualls skyward and he disappears. His M4 rattles out of the car, presumably onto the tracks below, although you cannot see it. A second later, another pair of arms comes up from below and latches on to Marshall's ankles. Immediately he falls face-first to the floor, but he's able to grab on to a nearby pole to save himself from sliding all the way out of the car.

"Somebody help!" he cries as the VM begins climbing up his legs. It wraps itself around the soldier's waist, and the pair begins flopping around like a pair of fish. Meanwhile, none of the other soldiers can get in a good shot. You know right away you need to do something to help. But what? You're dad confiscated all of your guns, but Qualls' M4 must be right outside the door on the tracks.

Evidently, your dad's soldiers are so accustomed to shooting VMs that they don't know what to do when they don't have a clear shot. Well, you and the baggers have never had a full clip to blast away with and so you know how to get medieval when you have to.

You pull out your crowbar and turn towards the other baggers. "You guys ready to do this?" you ask.

"Heck yeah!" Biff shouts. Val and Grace high-five each other and pull out their weapons. They take hold of his arms while Paulie and Jamie keep an eye out for more VMs. The rest of you wail on this meatbag with everything you've got. The VM cries out as you get a particularly good hit at the shoulder, and you hear a satisfying crack as it releases its grip on Marshall's torso. Damien smacks its other shoulder, and Val and Grace are able to pull Marshall into the car so that Paulie can hit the door release. It smashes closed right on top of the VM, severing it at the waist. Then the top half pulls itself onto its elbows and growls menacingly. Your father pushes you aside and brings his gun barrel between the VM's undead eyes and fires. Its brains splatter against the door, and the rest of it slumps in a pile on the floor.

Biff and Damien carry Marshall to the nearest row of seats and lay him out as the medic tends to his many scratches and bites. "Thanks," Marshall says weakly. peering up at all of you. "You guys are awesome. Take this. You deserve it."

He hands you a magazine of bullets for you to split. You slip yours into your pocket and take your seat again as the subway speeds home.

Back at your home pod, your mom immediately smothers you in hugs and kisses. "I was so worried" she cries. "My baby! I thought you were dead. Don't ever do that to me again, do you promise?"

"Okay" you say, trying to wriggle out of her surprisingly strong grasp. "I promise. God, Mom, I can't breathe."

It doesn't take long for her relief to turn to anger, though. Eventually, your parents give you a stern lecture and send you to your room. By now you're exhausted, so you decide to save your homework for study hall tomorrow and grab your laptop instead. On SurvivorNet, the Zeta High page is filled with prayers and well-wishes for you and your bagger friends. Someone has already set up a separate memorial page for Angelina, probably assuming the royalty cheerleader didn't stand much of a chance for survival.

You click back to the Zeta High page and type a new message on the wall. 'We're all safe and sound. Sorry for worrying everyone.'

Almost immediately, the comments and thumbs ups start rolling in. Dude, you guys are awesome, one kid writes. What's it like outside of Zeta? someone else wants to know. Others voice more general sentiments: Fectos rot! Go Zeta baggers! Kick un-D azzzzzz!!!

In the corner of your screen, a small notification box pops up. DMNHARRIS wants to chat. It's Damien, so of course you accept.

DMNHARRIS says: hey, what's up?

GlJen says: not much, you?

DMNHARRIS says: nada, did u got in trouble?

GIJen says: a little, but worth it.

DMNHARRIS says: you did great today.

Your heart skips a beat from his compliment.

GIJen says: sry about Dana.

DMNHARRIS says: thanks. I can't believe she's gone.

GIJen says: if you ever need to talk, I'm here.

DMNHARRIS says: thanks Jen, that means a lot, you're a good friend.

GlJen says: your welcome.

DMNHARRIS says: Oh btw, Ive been looking through the Project Tabletop file.

GlJen says: find anything?

DMNHARRIS says: not much that makes sense, most of it's been blacked out.

GlJen says: that sucks.

DMNHARRIS says: you up for another adventure?

GIJen says: yeah right.

DMNHARRIS says: LOL. I gotta go, see you tomorrow?

GIJen says: definitely.

The next morning after breakfast, your mom pulls you aside while your dad is finishing up his protein shake. You follow her into your parents' bedroom, and she slides the door shut behind you. "What's up?" you ask.

She pulls a box out from under the bed and opens it to reveal your beloved handgun, Opal. She puts a finger to her lips before handing it to you. "Your father would not approve of me doing this," she says. "But I can't stand to have you out there unprotected. Just promise me you'll be careful with it."

"I promise," you say, checking the clip to see two bullets ready to go. You tuck your beloved weapon into your ankle holster before throwing your arms around her neck. "Thanks, Mom!"

"You're welcome" she says. "Now get your butt to school."

You pass by Chase's pod just as he's leaving. "Hey," he says. "Welcome back. I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks, you say, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "I wish you could have been there. It was crazy."

"No thanks," he says, punching you back. "Bagging's not really my thing. Or did you forget I'm just a lowly rat?"

You roll your eyes and take off running down the hallway. "Come on," you call over your shoulder. "We're gonna miss the subway."

"Are you sure you want to be seen with me?" he calls back before running to catch up to you.

At school, you get the strangest feeling walking down the hallway—like everyone is watching every move you make. Kids you don't know smile and wave, calling your name to catch your attention. Others simply gawk in awed silence as you pass them.

"Do you notice anything weird?" you ask Chase.

"Just you, doofus." He laughs at his own joke and smacks you lightly in the back of the head.

"Stop it, goober," You punch him not so lightly in the gut as you stop at Tatum's locker. She's examining her brand new dye job (turquoise blue) in the mirror while Caroline and Nick sit on the floor making out.

"Hey, superstar!" Nick says when he comes up for air. "So how did it feel to shoot the student body president in the head? Did she try to fend you off with her pompoms first?"

"God," Tatum says, slamming her locker. "I can't believe we don't have to see Dana's stupid face around here anymore. I owe you one, Valentine."

"Hey, that's not cool." You look around quickly to make sure Damien isn't anywhere nearby. "She was a human being. And now she's dead."

"Whatever." Caroline shrugs. "She was also a total b-word."

"Guys, chill out," Chase says. "I didn't like her either, but there are plenty of living jerks at this school to talk smack about." He spins the combination on his locker and tosses his backpack inside as everyone mumbles a half-hearted apology.

"And speaking of which," Tatum mumbles under her breath, "Here comes one now."

You look up and see Dana's friend Kristin coming towards you, her ponytail swinging as she maneuvers around other students loitering in the middle of the hallway. She's clutching a folder to her chest and looking a little worried. "Jen!" she says, a smile spreading across her face when she sees you. "I'm so glad I found you."

"Uh, hey Kristin," you say. "What's up?"

She sighs and pushes the folder into your hands. "This should be everything you need. We took a poll and got everyone's top three choices. You'll just need to take it from here."

"Choices for what?" you ask. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Kristin rolls her eyes and her voice takes on a tone like she's speaking to an intellectually-challenged five-year-old. "Bands for the dance next week, silly. You need to get one of them to agree to come here and play."

"But why me?"

"Uh, because you're the first year Kid A, and that's, like, your job," She crosses her arms. "And if you want to keep your position, you'll do everything you can to make this happen. Good luck, and try not to screw it up." She turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd before you can respond.

"Did she just say I'm Kid A?" you ask.

"Well, duh." Caroline blows a bubble with her gum and lets it deflate slowly as you absorb this news. "You're like, a legend already, and you've only been here for a couple of weeks. What did you expect?"

Chase pats you on the back and gives you a big grin. "So, how's it feel, Jenie?"

"I don't know," The first period warning bell rings, making you jump a little. "I guess l'd better get going. See you guys at lunch."

You're too busy catching up on late homework during first period study hall to think much more about your new social assignment. But later, as you wait for second period Biology to start, you pull out the folder and look it over. When Damien enters the classroom, he takes one look at what you're doing and smirks. "Picking a band for the dance, eh? How's that going for you?" As he sits down, you notice a bit of gold peeking out from under the collar of his polo shirt—Dana's locket.

"It sucks," you say. "How did you handle it last year?"

"I didn't," he says. "It's not really my thing. Dana loved that sort of stuff, though. So she designated herself class president and took care of it for me."

"There wasn't a vote? Wouldn't that be more like class dictator?"

Damien laughs, but his mood turns more serious as Dr. Franklin emerges out of the back storage facility. He's got a stack of worksheet packets in his arms, which he starts passing out to each of the lab tables. When he gets to yours, he stops.

"Miss Valentine," he says, eyeing your folder curiously. "I'd like to speak to you after class if you have a moment."

"Um.. okay," you say. As he smiles and walks away, you and Damien exchange a look.

"What do you think he wants?" Damien whispers.

"You got me," you say. "Hopefully he's not looking for a replacement for Dana."

When the tardy bell rirngs, Dr. Franklin begins his lecture on cell anatomy. You know you should focus, but you find yourself terribly distracted by so many things-mostly Damien's cologne and worrying about what might happen to you after class when you're alone with your bio teacher.

Sitting up straight, you push all the distractions out of your mind and focus on the lecture. Aw, your parents would be so proud.

"Today we are looking at some mutations created by nondisjunction," Dr. Franklin says. "Who can tell me what this term means?"

You think back to the reading assignment you finished in study hall this morning, and the answer miraculously pops into your head. You raise your hand, and even though you're not as fast as an ehrlich in the front row, Dr. Franklin still calls on you.

"Nondisjunction is a failure that occurs in meiosis in which a chromosome doesn't split correctly." you say.

Dr. Franklin looks impressed and tosses you a bullet, then continues his lecture.

When the dismissal bell rings, Damien turns to you. "I want to stay here while you talk to Dr. Franklin," he says. "I mean, there's no way he can get away with kidnapping two Kid A's, can he?"

"I guess not." You're relieved by his offer, but there are still butterflies in your stomach as you approach your teacher's desk. "You wanted to see me, Dr. Franklin?"

"Ah, yes," he says, straightening a stack of papers before slipping them into his briefcase. He glances at Damien with a cool smile. "Miss Valentine, I noticed you've been assigned the task of finding a band for the school dance. ls this correct?"

You nod.

"I'm the faculty advisor for all social functions at Zeta High," he says. "So l'm curious how that's going for you so far."

"Well,I have the names of the bands and the email addresses from their SurvivorNet pages, but I haven't tried contacting them yet. I don't know if l'll have much luck, since they probably get thousands of emails a day."

"May I?" He gestures to your folder, and you hand it over to him. He opens the cover and puts a thoughtful finger up to his lips as he reads the list of bands. "I think I may just be able to help you," he says. "This band-Toxifarian? Their manager's name is Bob Holbrook. That just happens to be the very same Bob Holbrook I went to college with back before all this VM business started." Dr. Franklin opens the top drawer of his desk and pulls out a small gray card. "This is his personal email address. I'm confident that if you send a request for his band's services to it, he'll be happy to make the arrangements."

You're shocked by this revelation, but you're also relieved that you don't have to fend off a kidnapping or reveal to the school that you're a failure at booking bands. You thank him for his help and head off for the lunchroom with Damien.

"So what's this guy's angle?" Damien asks when you're a safe distance from the classroom.

"I don't know," you say. "It is pretty weird that he'd have the card of one of the band's managers right there in his desk drawer."

"I know. That can't just be a coincidence. So are you going to email the dude?"

"What other choice do I have? Unless some miracle happens with the other bands, I'm going to need his help. I just hope I'm not making a deal with the devil."

"Me too," Damien says thoughtfuly. "I wonder what Sven would say about this."

"Who's Sven?"

"Oh, I forgot you've never met him. Sven Johnson is the third year Kid A of Alpha Sector. He's on track for graduating early and so he's spending a month doing a robotics internship at Kappa."

"Cool," you say. "He must be really smart."

"He is—way smarter than me, at least. But he was the first one to clue me in on Project Tabletop. He's sort of a conspiracy theory nut. If he were here, he could probably hack into Dr. Franklin's system and get all the dirt on him."

You enter the lunchroom and grab a tray, scanning the room until you locate Chase. "I already had plans to sit with some of my friends," you tell Damien. "But you're welcome to join us—that is, if you don't mind sitting at a rat table."

"Not at all," he says with a good-natured shrug.

You work your way through the food line and take a seat with Chase, Tatum, Caroline, and Nick. "You guys all know Damien?" The gang nods their hellos, and Tatum gives you a thumbs up when he's not looking.

"So, Kid A," Nick says to you. "Tell us about the bands everyone picked. Anything worth half a crap?"

"Um..." You say, chewing and swallowing a mouthful of vita-patty, "There's Lyin' Heart.."

"Ugh," he replies. "A pukey boy band. Big surprise!"

The one with the fauxhawk is kinda cute Caroline says. "And they did just win a Grammy."

Nick stares slack-jawed at her. "Are you really my girlfriend? I feel like I don't even know you anymore." Caroline rolls her eyes in response.

"And Frankie and the Fectos..." you continue.

"Yeah, like that's ever going to happen," Tatum interrupts with a snort. "You might as well dig up the corpses of the Beatles and get them all together for a reunion show."

"That would be pretty cool, actually." Chase says.

"Who else?" Nick asks.

"Some band called Toxifarian," you say. "I've never heard of them, but I think they may be my best option."

Nick's face goes suddenly serious. "No. Way. Are you kidding me?"

"What?" you ask. "Do they suck?"

"More like they're awesome," he says. "I can't believe the losers at this school are even aware of their existence. Whoa." He turns to Caroline. "I can't believe it. We're gonna have to go to this dance, babe."

"Yay," she says, unenthusiastically biting into a Hydro-P apple slice

"What do they sound like?" you ask.

"Okay," Nick says, again very serious. "So, they're sort of like reggae meets speed metal meets jabbacore. Oh, and they all wear these toxic waste jumpsuits and gas masks, and like, these crazy Bob Marley dreadlock wigs."

"Sounds hot," Tatum says.

"But that's just the thing, see? They're totally rejecting everything that stupid bands like Lyin' Heart stand for—the pretty boy looks and sappy ooh baby baby lyrics. Because they're wearing masks, no one even knows who these guys are. If you saw one of them on the subway, you'd have no idea. Isn't that awesome?"

"Yeah," Chase says. "Unless they're really child molesters or something."

Damien laughs and chimes in. "Maybe they're aliens sent from another planet to ruin Earth's taste in music."

"Ooh," Tatum says. "I bet you're right. I heard they're from Uranus."

"Very funny," Nick says, breaking off a piece of carob cake and throwing it at her. "Except that it's not."

"Oh, hey Jen?" Chase says suddenly. "I forgot to grab a dessert. You wanna come help me pick one out?"

"Uh..." He gives you a look that says you don't really have a choice.

"Yeah, sure," you say, reluctantly following him back to the lunch line.

When you're out of earshot of the table, Chase sighs with relief. "Thanks," he says.

"No problem," you say. "What's up?"

"I think Tatum's planning on asking me to the dance."

"That's great," you say. "She's really cool."

"Yeah, but I don't really like her... like that. So I thought maybe you and I could go together. Then when she asks me, I'll have an excuse to say no."

"You're inviting me as a defense strategy?" you ask. "Gee, thanks. That's really romantic."

"Come on," he says. "I know you're all popular now and everything, and you could probably go with anyone you wanted. But I'm asking you as your best friend. I'll even buy you a corsage. It'll be fun, I promise."

"I don't know," you say, glancing back to the table, where it looks like Tatum and Damien are still giving Nick a hard time.

"Pretty please?" Chase holds up a bowl of Bio-10 banana pudding. "With sprinkles on top?"

"Fine," you say. "I'll go with you. Tatum's totally going to hate me, though."

Chase shrugs. "Thanks, and she probably will. But she'll just have to get over it."

"If she tries to kick my butt, you'd better protect me."

"I promise, l will. And I totally owe you one."

You head back to the lunch table and sit down next to Damien. When the bell rings, everyone heads for the hallway, but he remains sitting.

"You coming?" you ask.

He gives you a strange smile. "Um, I was wondering if I could ask you something first."

"Yeah, sure."

"Would you... like to go to the dance together? I mean, as my date? That is, if you're not already going with someone else. I don't even really like dancing that much, but I think you're a really cool girl and everything, so..."