In Emily's classroom.
The feeling of relief upon seeing Alex, a warm wave in my chest, instantly froze with a chilling pang of anxiety. He had come for me, to pull me out of this place, and my vision of transforming the high school into an unyielding stronghold collided with his own mission. But there was no room for doubt. I had to convince him and persuade everyone else.
"We are not leaving, Alex," I advanced towards Alex and the rest of the group, my voice resonating with a raw determination, forged in Sonny's recent sacrifice.
"I know many of you yearn to leave, but we cannot. We know what awaits us outside. The city is uncontrollable chaos. The military is not acting; the roads are blocked. Where would we go? Here, in the high school, we have elevated walls. We have resources. We have food, water, a place to defend ourselves. And most crucially, we have each other. We cannot survive alone in that hell. We have a real chance to defend ourselves."
I emphasized the security of the second floor, the robust barricades we had erected with our own hands, and the supplies we had desperately tracked down.
"Sonny did not perish for us to run aimlessly, to become just another statistic on the streets. He gave his life so that we would have a real chance," I thought as I waited for the others to support my proposal.
A tense silence, saturated with doubts and fears, followed my words. Then, voices began to rise, forming a chorus of palpable uncertainty.
Yuki, with wide, frightened eyes, inquired: "But Emily, how much longer can we stay here? My parents… if there's a chance to get out, I… I want to try. Just for tonight, and tomorrow, at dawn, couldn't we look for a way out?"
The injured teacher, whom Amy had just bandaged, nodded weakly, her face pale and visibly sweaty.
"She's right. The provisions… won't last long. And the zombies… what will happen if they accumulate?"
Amy, my best friend, nodded with an almost desperate fervor, her eyes red from crying and obvious lack of sleep. "Emily is right, Alex. Where would we go? Outside is a death trap. Here we are safe, for now. It's our only hope."
"It's the only alternative. Outside… it's hell," Marlon affirmed with a decisive voice, backing my proposal.
Marlon, Amy, and some others were in favor of staying; it seemed these particular people had directly confronted the zombies or at least perceived the gravity of the situation.
Yuki, Rose, and others expressed doubts. Either from fear or genuine concern for their families.
Both groups had different reasons to support or oppose staying here, but they all shared a common trait: they were deeply terrified.
"I understand. Fear is a palpable reality," I said, my voice softer but unwavering. "But running blindly is suicidal. Outside, chaos reigns. Here we can fortify. We can defend ourselves. For now, it's our best alternative. Tomorrow, yes, we can advance further, secure another floor, look for more supplies. But first, let's make this place a haven."
One of the young women Alex had rescued raised her hand, her eyes on the verge of tears.
"But sir… Alex. You got us out of there. You know what awaits us outside. Wouldn't it be better to leave? To find a safer place, far from the city."
Alex listened intently, his gaze fixed on me. He addressed the student's question, but offered no answer, only observed her with serene calm.
His face was an impenetrable mask, impossible to read, but the intensity of his eyes, a calculating glint, indicated to me that he was not entirely convinced.
I perceived his pragmatism, his awareness of dangers that I, in my idealism, had not yet discerned. He knew something, I felt it in the dense air between us.
Despite his palpable skepticism, Alex intervened with a proposal that sounded purely tactical, a true chess move amidst the growing chaos.
"Listen to me," he said in his deep voice, drawing everyone's attention like a magnet. "This place has potential. For now, it's the safest thing we have. But for it to be a refuge, we need to truly organize. We need to secure every corner of this building, to know exactly what we have. We cannot improvise."
He turned to me, his eyes meeting mine, in a silent test.
"I propose that, for now, we focus on fully securing this section. The main hall, the adjacent corridors, as you have been doing. And then, we need to approach the cafeteria and dining hall. Consolidate food and water supplies. It is vital to know what we possess and where it is, and to protect those resources. It is the first step for any survival plan."
I looked at him, weighing his words. It was logical. One step at a time.
"Agreed," I replied, nodding with renewed firmness, a spark of hope in my eyes. "It's an excellent first step. Let's secure this building and then the cafeteria. Let's begin."
I conceived it as a path towards my greater goal, although a part of me suspected he had his own reasons for that strategy, perhaps seeking an escape route if my vision failed, a contingency plan I could not yet discern.
"It seems Alex doesn't fully trust securing this place or perhaps it's not entirely safe," I reflected with concern.
As Alex took the lead in the tasks of fortifying and clearing the areas adjacent to my classroom, preparing us for the imminent incursion into the cafeteria, the younger students and newcomers approached him.
Their questions were urgent, with a hint of desperation.
"What's happening outside, sir?" inquired one of the boys Alex had rescued, his eyes wide with fear. "Are there more military personnel? Will anyone come to help us?"
Alex responded concisely and directly, offering no false hopes. His tone was serious and pragmatic, but his evident knowledge and his reluctance to reveal the source of his information made him seem enigmatic.
"The military… they are not in control. The city is total chaos. Do not expect immediate external help."
"And the… the dead? How do you know so much about them?" another inquired, his voice barely a faint whisper.
"They are slow, though tireless. Noise attracts them. The head is the only weak point. One bite and it's the end," Alex articulated, his voice devoid of emotion, as if simply reciting irrefutable facts. He offered no further details about the origin of this information, leaving a sense of mystery.
While speaking, Alex also instructed the most capable and proactive students: George, Marlon, and Louis. He showed them fundamental safety measures against bites and methods to deal with zombies without direct confrontation.
"If you hear them, stay still. If you can, avoid them. Stealth is your best ally," he advised them, demonstrating how to move silently through the hallway, how to open a door without making noise, and how to secure a barricade with available resources.
"Always be aware of your surroundings. Do not trust absolute silence," Alex remarked.
This instruction was given practically, as they collaborated on the fortification. I observed how the young people, though frightened, showed progressive improvement in their understanding and skills, absorbing Alex's serenity and efficiency.
His presence was an undeniable force, a promise of competence in this new and desolate world.
One Hour Later.
The night hung heavily over the high school, but the securing work could not cease.
I looked around, at the exhausted faces, some still trembling, and took a deep breath to compose myself.
"We need to take turns resting and guarding," I announced, my voice resonating with an authority that felt increasingly natural to me. "We are going to organize into three groups."
I assigned Yuki, Rose, the injured teacher, and other students to a quieter area of the classroom, where we improvised beds with blankets and sleeping mats.
"You will be the first group to rest," I informed them. "You need to recover, but you must be ready for any eventuality."
Then, I turned to Marlon, Minnie, Violet, and a couple more students.
"You will oversee vigilance. You will be responsible for the barricades, for the windows. Absolute silence, and any anomaly, report it to us immediately."
Their faces tensed, but they nodded solemnly.
Finally, I turned to Louis, Amy, and the other more active students.
"We form the search and support group. We will continue checking the cleared rooms for more supplies and will be ready to assist Tim, George, and Alex with whatever they need."
Tim, George, and Alex had already left to clear the path to the cafeteria, and I knew that every moment was crucial.
As the third group, which I joined, continued the search for provisions in the adjacent rooms, fatigue became palpable. My own muscles ached, and I perceived the exhaustion in Louis's and Amy's eyes.
The silence of the corridors was only interrupted by the occasional creak of furniture or the discreet murmur of our voices.
"Emily, do you really think we can stay here?" Amy inquired, her voice low and laden with deep sadness. Her eyes seemed lost. "My parents… I miss my home so much. What if they tried to go back to the center? What if they are trapped in all this chaos?"
Her hand clung to mine, seeking comfort and security.
Louis, with his grave expression, intervened.
"Amy is right, Emily. The spread of these… infected… must be increasing exponentially in the city. Tomorrow will be another day, but it will also imply another level of chaos. Zombies will be everywhere."
Other students in the group had divided opinions.
Some clung to the hope of a rescue, others just wanted to survive the night. But all, without exception, were aware that securing a place like this, at least for the moment, was of vital importance.
I reflected on their words, on my own doubts that mingled with guilt over Sonny.
My fortress plan was my anchor, but the reality was brutal. I couldn't completely discard the idea of escaping, but I also couldn't abandon those who already depended on me. We had to save as many people as possible.
Half an Hour Later.
Louis, Amy, and I returned to the main hall with our arms laden with more water bottles and some cans of food we had found.
Fatigue overwhelmed us, but the small victory of the supplies gave us a respite, a small halo of hope in the gloom.
Just as we reached the entrance, I saw Tim return. And he wasn't alone.
Behind him, with an imposing silhouette and a face weathered by adversity, stood Alex.
And with him, a group of new faces, scared but alive: Alex had rescued the students. And among them, a small group of teachers.
I approached to help the teachers, but Alex extended a firm hand, stopping me. His face was grim; his dark eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that chilled my blood.
"Emily," he said, his voice low, but with undeniable authority. "This teacher… he has been bitten. He will turn soon. There is no cure. You know it. The bite… means he will turn. There's no going back."
A chilling shiver ran through my body.
My eyes turned to the teacher.
He was pale, sweaty, with ragged breathing. A clear, deep bite marked his arm. Panic began to spread through the room, a collective murmur of terror.
"No! We must help him! There must be something! A cure, a doctor! We can isolate him! We can't just… let him die!" I exclaimed, my voice laden with desperation and anguish.
I couldn't accept that. Not after Sonny.
The idea of "finishing him" hung in the air, unspoken explicitly, but palpable, and my stomach churned with nausea. I struggled to cling to any remaining vestige of humanity.
Tim, who had been observing in silence, hardened his face.
His posture became more rigid; his eyes fixed on the teacher. He knew the inescapable rules of the virus, he had witnessed it before, but the man's silent plea and the desperation in my voice visibly affected him. His seriousness turned somber, an internal struggle he dared not express in words.
Amy clung to my arm, her eyes full of denial and disbelief.
"No! We can't just leave him! We can't do that!" she cried, tears welling in her eyes.
Minnie, with a grave countenance hardened by her experiences, approached. "Alex is right, Emily. We've seen it. There's nothing to be done. It's the harsh truth."
One of the students Alex had rescued, his voice a barely audible lament, knelt, covering his face with his hands. "But it's Professor Morales! We can't… we can't do that to him! It's completely inhuman!"
Alex remained silent, observing the desperation and the debate. His face revealed no emotion, but the considerable weight of the situation was evident in his shoulders, in the marked tension of his jaw. He knew the inescapable truth of the virus.
As the discussion continued, Professor Morales began to tremble subtly. A cold sweat beaded his forehead; his skin turned a cerulean hue. His eyes, previously filled with fear, now showed a feverish glint. A faint moan escaped his throat.
The tension in the room was unbearable.
The professor pleaded with his gaze, his body betraying him.
I was desperate to preserve the humanity of my companions and friends, to find another solution.
And Alex, with the weight of the decision on his shoulders, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the professor. Time stood still.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
First, I want to apologize to those who saw the empty chapter earlier. I had scheduled it over a week ago without editing, but I forgot to change the posting time.
Here's a new chapter about Emily, once a spoiled brat, now simply a woman trying to cope with her grief and make sense of the first loss she's ever had.
I've tried to remove the reflections from the chapters and focus only on the action. If you think I should go back to how I was before, let me know.
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Read my other novels
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future.
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time.
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File
You can find them on my profile.]