In the gym.
After following the soldiers, we arrived at the gym along with another group of students from nearby classrooms. During the journey, the soldiers watched us cautiously.
It seemed they suspected us, either because of the desperation Rose had shown earlier or because they might have noticed that my voice was the one that transmitted the warning message about the zombies.
"I hope Rony's dad can come rescue us soon. I don't trust the military," I thought as we walked through the high school hallways, feeling a growing unease.
Finally, upon reaching the gym, they forced us inside and ordered us to stay in, not to leave again. They said they would soon clear the surrounding streets and that we could go home, but no one in our group believed them; only the other students thought these promises would be fulfilled.
Resigned, we began to move, watching the large group of people who had taken shelter here after the second military announcement.
Everyone looked calm.
Some were playing on the court or in other open spaces within the facility. Others simply rested on the bleachers or on the floor on sports mats. There were even couples taking the opportunity to find blind spots and enjoy their intimacy in this tense moment, although for them it was just an emergency where they would not be in any danger.
"If only they knew that zombies could appear at any moment, or even that some of them might already be infected," I reflected pessimistically. From the moment I saw that classmates turned zombie devouring the art teacher, my fear has been growing non-stop. Rose's account of how she was attacked didn't help either; it fueled my fear even more.
The only relief I had was that the men my father sent, Tim and Rony's father, were looking after me. However, now that they also had to look after my classmates, the situations we would face would become increasingly dangerous.
"I should have listened to my father and not come to the high school anniversary party," I blamed myself internally, feeling deep regret.
While I was reflecting, Tim discreetly guided us to a corner of the gym.
Marlon looked worried, scanning our classmates for anyone showing signs of illness. Sophie, for her part, constantly comforted Rose, who, after seeing the soldiers' disinterest and evasion regarding the attack she suffered, felt heartbroken and hopeless. She had placed her hopes in the soldiers being able to get her out of this desperate situation, but they only denied the existence of zombies.
The corner Tim chose was behind the highest bleachers. It offered us a discreet view of the gym but limited our escape routes. The bright light from the spotlights illuminating the gym seemed to hide what was brewing in the shadows. The air here was denser, laden with the smell of sweat, rubber, and a faint metallic odor that, to my panic-sharpened sense of smell, was already associated with blood and death.
Marlon kept scanning the faces of passersby. His restless eyes searched for any sign of unusual paleness, tremors, or that empty gaze we had learned to fear. His jaw was tense.
Occasionally, he would whisper a name, as if mentally reviewing who he knew. "Did you see Dale? I haven't seen him since the cafeteria," he murmured once. I could only shrug. The idea that a friend could be infected, transforming among us, was silent torture.
Sophie, with admirable patience, continued to caress Rose's back. Rose had curled up against her, her shoulders trembling. She sobbed silently, her tears soaking Sophie's shirt.
"I don't understand... How can they say nothing is happening? Didn't they see what I saw?" Rose stammered between hiccups, her voice barely a broken whisper. For her, the soldiers' denial was not just a lie, but a profound betrayal.
She had trusted them, in authority, in terms of safety; she believed the protection announcements they had made a few hours earlier. Now that hope had crumbled, leaving her more vulnerable than ever. Sophie just hugged her tighter, wordlessly, knowing there was no real comfort for the horror Rose had witnessed in the art room.
I felt like an impostor, carrying a secret that could unleash chaos. The warning I had broadcast over the intercom, the vision of the art teacher... everything screamed at me that danger was imminent.
But here, in this gym full of carefree people, I felt alone with that truth. Guilt gnawed at me, but I was also annoyed by the disbelief of people who, even when warned of imminent danger, take refuge in excuses or false arguments. "Well... It's hard for anyone to believe that zombies can exist. Unfortunately, only experience will open their eyes and make them believe," I reflected disheartened.
I looked at Tim, who stood with his arms crossed, observing the perimeter. His calm seemed inhuman to me. His eyes moved slowly, registering every detail, every person. He was like a protection machine, but even he seemed tenser than usual.
Suddenly, a muffled scream echoed from the other side of the court. It was a cry of pain. Everyone in our corner tense.
The couples who had been hiding earlier abruptly separated. Those who were playing stopped, and the laughter died out. A soldier approached a group of students sitting on the bleachers.
One of them, a slender young man, showed clear traces of fresh blood around his mouth. To the rest of those present, he might have simply looked like an unwell or sick person, but the erratic way he swayed and the expression of pure panic and absolute horror on his friend's face, who was standing beside him, instantly chilled my blood.
His companion, at that precise moment, was desperately trying to contain the blood that was profusely gushing from a wound on her neck, but astonishingly, no one else seemed to notice this serious situation.
All eyes, without exception, were fixed on the unstable and swaying figure of the newly manifested zombie.
"It can't be..." I thought, my heart pounding with excessive force, violently beating against my ribs. The apparent calm that had reigned in the gym had completely vanished. The air became charged with a palpable and oppressive electricity, like the tension that precedes a violent storm. I knew with certainty that time was rapidly running out, and that the true nightmare was about to unfold.
Tim turned abruptly and looked at me with penetrating intensity; his eyes seemed to try to confirm that what we feared most was about to happen, and that we were in the worst possible place to face it. My mind, at that instant, flew to Rony's father, remembering his signals that warned me of his imminent rescue mission.
I also thought of my own parents, my father and mother, feeling a pang of worry about them. Just as I was blaming myself for not listening to my father for the third time, I noticed out of the corner of my eye how the soldier raised his weapon threateningly against the student who had transformed.
"Stop!" he shouted firmly.
The zombie continued its slow, dragging advance; the soldier's shouts had caught its attention, and instead of attacking its nearby companions, it tried to descend the bleachers to pounce on the soldier, but fell with loud thud.
In a normal situation, countless phones would be recording the scene to post on social media later, but the situation was extremely disturbing for those present, especially since they did not know why the soldier was acting so aggressively against a peer who only seemed to be ill.
The zombie got up again, without emitting any groan or complaining about the pain of the fall, something that bewildered some of the nearby students who were observing the scene. It advanced again, this time directly towards the soldier.
"For the last time! Stop or I'll shoot!" the soldier warned with a voice full of ultimatum.
"What are you doing?" a nearby student asked with a visibly annoyed tone. "You shouldn't be pointing your weapon at civilians," he warned reproachfully.
"Silence!" the soldier snapped, pointing his weapon directly at the student who was reproaching him. "Everyone back! Stay away from this student!" he vehemently ordered those around him.
"Sir, you shouldn't do that," a teacher who had also taken shelter with the students warned him. "He's not part of the people protesting in the nearby streets. He's just a student," he cautiously pointed out, as the teacher had noticed the soldier's extreme state of alert.
"I said get back!" the soldier snapped furiously, also pointing his weapon at the teacher, making his authority clear.
A sepulchral silence fell over the entire gym, a silence laden with tension. Now, the situation no longer seemed as simple as most of those present had initially believed.
While everyone was engrossed in the discussion with the soldier, I saw the zombie menacingly approaching the military man, who, distracted, was trying to keep everyone away.
"Watch out! He's very close to you!" I warned with a desperate shout from our corner, hoping he would hear me.
The soldier, hearing my cry, turned abruptly and noticed the zombie's proximity. Panicked, he pulled the trigger of his weapon and shot him in the chest, with a dry impact.
After the shot, there was only a second of stunned silence. That brief lapse was the time those present took to process the shocking situation.
"What?!"
"Help!"
"He was shot!"
"They're going to kill us all!"
The screams of panic and confusion echoed everywhere, filling the space with a deafening clamor.
Everyone ran in random directions, gripped by terror, desperately trying to find a place to hide.
Some tried to exit the gym through the main doors, while others sought refuge in the locker rooms or storage areas within the gym to hide from the threat.
The zombie, unfazed by the noise, just kept moving forward; no cry of pain or complaint came from its mouth, despite the gunshot wound.
It just kept walking, but this time the soldier would not miss his target.
He aimed directly at its head and shot without hesitation, with fierce determination. The impact of the second shot was brutal and definitive. The student's body, now completely transformed into a zombie, collapsed with a dull, resounding thud against the wooden floor of the court. A tense, brief silence fell over the entire place, an instant of collective disbelief before mass hysteria erupted with uncontrollable force.
The screams multiplied exponentially, not only from pure fear, but also from deep confusion and overwhelming horror.
"Murderer!"
"He shot a student!"
"They're crazy!"
All these shouts were heard above the general clamor. People ran aimlessly, stumbling over each other in their desperation, looking for any way out of what they believed was a senseless massacre.
As everyone ran in disarray, I noticed some people looking in astonishment at their companion, who was now a zombie, walking with an open wound in his chest as if it were a simple superficial cut, unfazed.
The harsh reality of what was happening was finally beginning to deeply sink into the minds of some, revealing the true nature of the threat.
Tim, with astonishing and decisive speed, pushed us all further against the wall, seeking to protect us from the whirlwind of panic that had broken out.
"Stay together! Don't separate!" he ordered us in a grave, authoritative voice, his eyes scanning the crowd for new lurking threats.
Marlon, visibly pale and shaken, continued to stare fixedly at the inert body near the distant bleachers, unable to look away.
Rose, who had been sobbing inconsolably on Sophie's shoulder, suddenly lifted her head. Her eyes, red from tears, widened as she saw the inert body. A new kind of terror, deeper and more visceral than anything she had felt before, took hold of her.
"Zombies! They're zombies!" she cried out, her voice sharp and heartbreaking, lost among the other wails of the crowd.
Before, with the soldiers' denial, she had tried to convince herself that everything she had experienced was false, but seeing one of these creatures for the second time had brought her back to the harsh reality in the worst possible way.
Sophie hugged her more firmly, trying to calm her, although she herself was visibly trembling. The soldiers' persistent denial was now revealed as a cruel falsehood, and the emerging truth was considerably more terrifying than anyone, except us, could have even conceived.
The crowd continued to be engulfed in uncontrolled frenzy.
Some tried to force the exit doors, which the soldiers had locked. Others crowded chaotically at the entrances to the locker rooms, creating dangerous bottlenecks. The air became unbreathable, dense and laden with sweat, palpable fear, and the imminent sense of impending danger.
"This way!" Tim exclaimed urgently, pointing to a side door that led to what appeared to be a sports equipment storage room.
It wasn't a definitive escape route, but at least it offered us temporary refuge away from the main stampede of the crowd. We moved quickly, pushing our way through the people who were still running aimlessly.
As we moved forward, I observed another student in the bleachers, behaving in the same unsettling way as the previous one. And he wasn't the only one; several others began to collide with students who were running in terror, fleeing from the soldier.
However, what they hadn't noticed was that another insidious threat was inadvertently moving among them.
Apparently, many students who had previously been attacked by zombies during the anniversary event had taken refuge in inconspicuous corners; they had quickly become ill, and the soldier's shot, far from calming the situation, had awakened them from their lethargy.
"Tim! Look!" I pointed; my voice barely whispered a gasp from the shock. Tim followed my gaze, and his face visibly hardened.
The infection was spreading or was already present in more individuals than we had estimated. The panic was not solely due to the shot, but to the harsh reality it had exposed.
The soldier who had shot the first zombie was now trying, in vain, to control the crowd, shouting orders that no one seemed to hear amidst the chaos. Other soldiers, who until then had remained static at the entrances, began to move, their faces reflecting an evident mix of confusion and alarm. They had completely lost control of the situation.
"We have to leave this place!" I thought with growing desperation.
The gym, which had previously represented a safe haven for some, had transformed into a deadly and inescapable trap.
Every second we remained there increased the likelihood of more people transforming, or of the military, in their attempt to contain the situation, perceiving us also as a threat.
The metallic smell in the air intensified, mixing with the particular stench I had previously perceived in the infirmary and the art room.
It was a smell that, without a doubt, I would never forget.
An icy shiver ran down my spine.
The high school anniversary party had ended abruptly, and survival had suddenly become the sole and primary objective.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Emily faces a terror that no one would wish for (maybe I do). The worst part is that the situation seemed under control, but hours had passed since the first infection, and now everything exploded.
By the way, I'm trying to improve the descriptions and dialogue. Tell me if you noticed the difference, or maybe I'm just wasting my time, haha.
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Read my other novels
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future.
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time.
You can find them on my profile.]