3.| Blood, Guts, And Gore

Before The Fall

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We locked Casey outside the classroom an hour ago and he's still clawing at the door. We're all terrified and silent, the quietest room 901 has ever been.

Earlier, Ms. Darcy tried to call 911 four times, but she only got the busy signal. It has me wondering whether Casey was the only one who got infected by the chemicals from the explosion site.

As fucked up as it sounds, I hope so. For my brother's sake—for the world's sake.

I've seen enough horror movies to know how an outbreak starts. It always begins the same way, but it never ends well.

I don't want to believe it because of the promise my father made when he started working there five years ago.

'Ian, I know it feels like I'm always away, but I'm working on something big for our future. For you.' 

He was always honest with me. That's how I knew he was gone. He never failed to return to me, no matter the distance between us. So how can I believe the place he worked for had something to do with this?

He told me he wanted a better future for me and the world, not a nightmare like this.

I hear Jakes voice, scared and shaky. "When can I go home?" 

He could only keep his tough act up for so long. Idiot. I take my phone out of my pocket and check the chat between me and my brother on Facebook messenger. My stomach twists in knots as the screen loads.

I'm worried about him. He doesn't handle stress well, and we only live two blocks away from the explosion site.

What if he was dealing with the same situation? Or worse. What if he was stumbling around in the streets acting like Casey?

As soon as the page loads, I scan the chat for any new messages from my brother.

Facebook Messenger:

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Ivan: Heads up, dads going to have a talk with u, he's royally pissed |7:00 a.m.

Ian: k. |7:09 a.m.

Ian: why call him that? |7:09 a.m.

Ivan: It's been two years….Y can't u let it go? |7:11a.m

Ian: whatever ill deal with that talk, too tired to argue |7:15 a.m.

Ivan: u think everyone's trying to argue? Have u ever thought u are just hard to deal with since mom and dad? But ok. Love u. <3 <strong>|7:20 a.m.

Ian: Are u ok? |9:30 a.m

Ian: ??? |12:00 p.m

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7:20 a.m. That was last time he messaged me. It's almost hitting 2:30 in the afternoon. Seven hours ago.

I feel bad for not responding. Ivan is probably angry with me. He didn't deserve my anger. Neither did our adoptive father. Ivan's the only person who's been there for me since our dad went missing and our mom lost her mind. I can't deal with anyone but him these day's. My biggest supporter.

"No, you can't go home. The news reporter told us to stay indoors until further notice." Ms. Darcy is telling Jake in the background.

Just as I look up, I see Jake kick his chair over. "So? She's dead."

"Don't say that." Ms. Darcy is sitting at her own desk, looking just as pale as Casey had been. 

I'm torn between warning everyone else that the same thing might happen to Ms. Darcy like it did Casey, or keeping quiet and avoiding a mess in case I'm wrong.

The sound of my phone ringing cuts through their bickering. I grab and unlock it, hoping it's my brother. I press it to my ear. 

"Hello?" I try to sound calm, but my cracks with worry. I'm supposed to be the strong one. I've always been the strong one between the both of us. The rock that holds us together after our parents were missing from our lives.

"It's me," Jack says on the other end. His voice is weak and strained like he's tired. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I nod, getting up and distancing myself from Ms. Darla and Jakes noisy bickering. "I'm alright. Did you see the news?"

"Mhm. It was pretty awful. Your brother went to the get us some snacks in case we have to stay indoors for a while," Jack says and I open my mouth to interject, but he knows me too well. "Before you say anything he's alright. He wore your fathers old gas mask."

Thank god. I breathe a sigh of relief and start to pace. "Some kid I've known since middle school freaked the hell out just now and went rabid mode on our teacher. Has there been any violence in the neighborhood?" 

There's silence on the other end of the line for a second, and it's making my anxiety spike. He's always awkward when we talk. I know why though. I haven't made his life easy either.

Jack exhales. "I'm looking out the blinds. The streets are empty. No one's coming out. I don't expect them to, not until the food runs out." 

He loves watching survival shows. He even helped us through the stock market crash that happened a year ago.

Everyone was fighting for food because the prices raised . But he was prepared. We had our underground shelter stocked with cans and a generator that ran off the solar panels he has built on our roof. If Ivan is safe with anyone, it's Jack. I might not want to call him dad, in fear it's replacing my real one, but he's a good man who adores Ivan as though he's his own blood. 

"Just make sure Ivan's safe. You don't have to worry about me." I lie to him.

"I always worry about you. You were right earlier. Ever since I picked you up at the station, I've been hard on you. I thought If I pushed you into activities and made you get out there it'd help. I should've just given you time to grieve."

My grip tightens on my phone so hard I can feel the blood draining from my fingers. He isn't the only one at fault here. It's me too. I'm troubled. I don't make it easy. "Like you said, I could do be-"

The sound of glass shattering comes from the other end of the line and my heart feels like it's about to burst from my chest.

"Jack?" I say his name softly, afraid that if I say it too loud something bad is going to happen. "What's going on?" No answer. "Hello?"

"Ivan!" Jack yells my brothers name and I'm wracked with worry. There's a thump, the sound of heavy footfall. He must have dropped the phone. "Ivan! Help me hold him back!" I hear him shout again.

"What is that!?" My brother is yelling and breathing heavy like he's helping Jack push or fight something, then the call ends.

Everything is moving in slow motion. The floor is dancing, the room in a million colors. I have to get to them. What if it's too late? I can't afford to lose anyone else. 

I slip my phone back in my pocket. There's only one Casey and more than a dozen of us. We can all bombard him and push him in a janitor closet. The real problem is getting outside if there's more Casey's out there somewhere. 

"Are you kidding me?" I hear Jake's voice pierce through the murmuring of our other classmates. "It's almost three and we're still sitting here for what exactly?!"

"Sit down!" Ms. Darcy snapped her fingers at Jakes desk. "I've had enough of your shit."

"Can you just lower your ego for once?" Rose joins in, trying to help deescalate the situation. But it's still not going to work. Fear makes people illogical. 

Jake smirks and turns to Rose. "Ian's mother should've finished you off when she had the chance. Yap, yap, yap. You've always thought you were to good for everyone." 

Rose's mouth falls open in disbelief. 

"Leave her alone, or do you want another beating?" I ask him, and I mean it. I've been wanting to take my anger out on something since I received my adoptive fathers phone call. 

Jake looks between me, Rose, and Ms. Darcy. "It's a problem because I want to leave? There's no fucking way any nerdy twelfth grader could've picked our teacher. No offense, Ms. Darcy, but you aren't exactly skinny!"

"Yeah," Someone else pitched in. I look over my shoulder. It's Jane. The quiet one. I'm surprised she's even speaking. "He's right. What was wrong with him?"

"Maybe it was rabies?" Rose guesses. 

I shake my head. "That's a rare case in cities, and he's not the type to go hunting. He didn't start acting like that until he drove past the explosion site."

"Hate to say it, but Ian's right." The corner of Jake's mouth twisted as he stares at our teacher.

"I'm just a history teacher. I'm not experience with medical conditions, Jake. What do you want from me?" 

"Find out! Cause if you come at me like Casey came at you, I can't promise I'll be the one catching a bullet." There was no trace of a joke in his voice.

Did he have a gun on him? He has to be bluffing.

Things aren't right, and there's this voice in the back of my head that's sending chills up my back and telling me nothing is going to get better. 

The teacher is all pale and sheen.

I've seen it many times before when my mother used to work at the hospital and someone was suffering from blood loss.

Everyone is bickering, but I'm watching Ms. Darcy. 

She's slouched over with her face pressed against the wood of her desk, gasping for air.

"Everyone shut the fuck up and just give her some room." I break their murmurs and shouts with my own. "Can't you see there's something wrong with her?" 

Jake licks his lips, pacing. "Oh. Okay. Everything is always my fault. All because I want to get my ass home and in bed away from all of this. Sure." He mumbles.

"Guys," Rose says and we both look over at her. "I think she stopped moving."

When I look at Ms. Darcy, she's still now. Unmoving with her face still pressed to the desk. 

"D-did she pass out?" Jane whispers, slack-jawed.

"I don't want to touch her." Rose moves back from our teachers desk.

"Fucking check her pulse and stop being such a wimp about it!" Jake pushes her back forward and I stand up.

"Put your hands on her one more time." I warn, but Rose raises her hand.

"It's okay. I'll do it." She tells me while nervously rubbing her hands on the sides of her plaid skirt.

"I'm right here." I say as I watch her move to touch the teacher's neck for a pulse. 

"She's a little cold." Rose's voice is shaking.

"Well?!" Jake rolls his eyes as if telling her to go on.

"There's a pulse!" Rose shouts and we all let out a breath we probably didn't know we were holding.

But the moment Rose starts to turn to us, Ms. Darcy jerks up and collided against the backrest of her chair, rocking helplessly. She's sways, her head whipping all around until a hair raising wail tears free from her throat.

None of us know what to do, we all watch in terror as Ms. Darcy bites the flesh of her lip from the seizure she's having. Her hands claw the desk. 

Everyone one but me moves away, leaving me and Rose in this small space to watch our teacher die alone. 

"I can feel them in me!" Ms. Darcy screeches over and over again as she convulses. Black, bloody bile spills out the corners of her mouth, splattering all over the mahogany desk, carpet, and Rose's black leggings.

There is so much blood. Way more blood than Casey coughed up.

The chair screeches with each rock, tilting on its legs until Ms. Darcy plows against the desk stiffly.

It shouldn't just have to be Rose taking risks. 

I walk over to her and move her behind me, our classmates are silent. 

Even Jake is no longer bickering. I leap over the puddle of blood, nearly tripping over the wooden leg of the desk as I reach over the black bile and feel for a pulse in the veins of her neck. 

She is cold and there's no pulse. 

I can't even find the words to tell them that. I just shake my head and they all gasp, knowing what I meant.

"She's dead." Rose whimpers out behind me and I look at her, but a raking noise draws my attention back to the dead body.

The teachers hand flinches, then cleaves brown stained nails across the desk. Splinters tear away into the pink flesh beneath, peeling back until her nails hand from the nail bed by a bloody string.

Bile rises in the back of my throat and I move away. "She's acting like Casey." The words come out my mouth clumsily. I know this is going to be a problem.

She's way bigger than Casey, and even I struggled to get him out of the classroom with everyone else.

"We can't do nothing." Rose tells us.

"Fuck." Jake starts pulling desk from one side of the room to the other. 

We just watch him, wondering what he's doing.

"What?! Can I get a damn hand here!" He shouts.

As I move to help, there's another loud boom from outside and the windows shatter.

The floor moves beneath my feet, and if I didn't throw my hand out to catch the edge of a desk, I would've slammed right onto the floor.

Another one comes, and then the lights flicker until we're standing in a blanket of darkness.