The Three Musketeers

Isamu drifted into sleep, his mind heavy, worn down from the night before. The faint sounds of shuffling footsteps outside and the muffled groans of the undead seemed to blend into a kind of eerie lullaby.

Day 3

Isamu awoke to a ceiling streaked with cracks, his mind foggy but alert. The dawn light crept through the barred windows, casting faint shadows across the room. He pushed himself up, rolling his neck to ease the tension, then made his way to the small sink, the chipped white porcelain a reminder of their makeshift home.

He tilted his head back, letting cool water swish through his mouth before spitting into the sink. Wiping his mouth, he muttered, "What to do, what to do… I guess Denji will have to replace Takumi. Can't waste any more time sitting on our asses."

Just then, Astrid approached, her usual confidence seeming to falter. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes avoided his. Isamu raised an eyebrow, thinking to himself, 'What the hell does she want?'

"Hey," she started hesitantly, clearing her throat. "I… uh… heard you and Takumi arguing yesterday. I don't mean to pry, but… what happened to Sato?"

Isamu let out a weary sigh, turning away, but she fell into step beside him. "He fell, I carried him, they caught up, he got bit, I left him. I think that's about it."

She grabbed his arm, her grip firm as she stopped him in his tracks. "Don't say it like that. It's not your fault those things exist."

He looked down, his face shadowed, but his expression was blank. 'No, but I sure did help them get to him. He was dead either way,' he thought. His head drooped, and he closed his eyes, pretending a sadness he didn't feel, accepting her offered shoulder.

'Better they think I blame myself than think I'm an emotionless sociopath. Everyone's eyes are probably on us.'

Across the room, Yuto, sitting at one of the cafeteria tables, rolled his eyes. " 'Least of my worries,' my ass," he muttered.

"What was that?" Denji asked, catching the comment.

Yuto shot him a warm, forced smile. "Nothing, just talking to myself."

Denji flopped onto his back on the floor, groaning, his eyes drifting to where Takumi and Mr. Kazuki were talking in hushed tones in the kitchen. "What do you think they're talking about?" he asked.

Yuto shrugged. "Who knows? Probably how we're all gonna die."

Denji raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "What the hell's up with you? Aren't you supposed to be the optimistic one?"

Yuto leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "Yeah, well, things change. Kinda hard to stay cheerful with your former classmates and teachers out there, waiting to chew your face off."

Denji managed a soft chuckle. "Yeah, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Just… don't let it get to you too much, alright? We're not dead yet, and you're the smartest one here."

"Yeah, book-smart," Yuto replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I can memorize facts, but that's not exactly the same as figuring out how to survive a zombie-infested school."

Their conversation faded into silence as everyone slipped into their own thoughts, a tense quiet settling over the cafeteria.

"Hey, Isamu, come over here," Mr. Kazuki called from the kitchen, standing beside Takumi, who wore his usual cold stare.

Isamu sighed, pushing himself off the table and trudging over to the counter. "What?"

"Takumi has agreed to go with us. So, if you could go over the plan again," Mr. Kazuki requested, his voice calm but resolute.

Isamu started pacing, his brow furrowed. "It's not that hard, really. We know those things are blind and rely on sound, so we should be able to get to the classroom windows without too much trouble. The issue is when we open the window and get into the main hall." He paused, resting his hands on the back of his head.

"There might be more of them in there, and it's tight—one wrong move, and we'll be too close to escape. I say 'we,' but Takumi and I are going to the roof. You, Mr. Kazuki, will head to our class and grab your phone."

Takumi immediately protested, his voice tight with anger. "Why is Mr. Kazuki going instead of us? You're putting him at risk while you might not even have to hold your breath."

"You might not be holding your breath either, so quit bitching about it," Isamu shot back.

Mr. Kazuki adjusted his glasses, taking a deep breath. "It's fine, Takumi. I wouldn't want either of you risking yourselves. We took your phones to keep you from panicking, but it only backfired. I'll take responsibility for that."

Isamu watched him, a glimmer of respect surfacing. 'Guess the weight of responsibility has its perks,' he thought.

"Now that's settled," he continued, "we'll each take a bag of food. Takumi and I will form signal on the roof, then find an empty classroom below, most. We'll rendezvous with you on the third floor, using the fire escape to get everyone up there. Every two days, we'll come back here for food and supplies. If no help comes, we'll have to leave. That's the plan. Any questions?"

Mr. Kazuki and Takumi both gave a silent nod, and with that, everyone set to work.

They packed up, Yuto offering Mr. Kazuki his jacket, and each of them taking a kitchen knife. They moved with a sense of finality, knowing that any misstep could mean the end. The others slowly dismantled the barricade, nerves raw as they prepared to step outside.

"If anything goes wrong, we'll be back quick, so stay close to the door," Isamu whispered, glancing back as he led them out. They stepped outside, walking, breaths shallow as they took in the scene. The main hall was about two hundred meters away, but the path was filled with the shambling, hollow-eyed dead. 

It was going seamlessly for a while...

Mr. Kazuki led the way, each of them following in cautious, silent steps.

...

Then the zombies stirred, their heads jerking, twisting in their direction.

'What the hell is going on with them?' Isamu's heart pounded, watching as the undead began to amble toward them, though they were slow paced. Panic flickered in his eyes, but he spotted a discarded bag nearby, scooping it up and hurling it across far to his right. The thud of the bag drew the zombies' attention, and they stumbled toward it instead.

Seizing the moment, they quickened their steps, reaching the side of the main hall. There, a fire escape loomed, a black iron ladder extending up toward the roof.

'Perfect,' Isamu thought, eyes scanning the fire escape. 'It looks like it goes all the way up. Just have to see it for myself though.'