The Saga Of Tom Stinson (Book 1): Summer School Zombocalypse (3 page)

Tom threw a chair at the zombies and dove into the vent shaft. Six feet in he hit his head on the shaft wall. The shaft turned right and sloped upward. Shrieks and howls echoed after him as he scrambled into the darkness. Turning left at the top he followed the shaft blindly, feeling the way with his hands. He couldn’t tell how far he gone in the dark.

The metal of the air duct creaked and popped as he squeezed around a corner to the right. Insulated from the outside world by the walls of the shaft, he couldn’t hear anything but the push of air past his ears. The air was cool and he felt safe with the metal around him. He stopped and listened.

Ahead, a vent grate appeared in the floor of the shaft. Peering down, the hallway below was lit by the sun shining through the brick glass windows of the stairwell. He was near the front doors.

Figures moved in a strange dance, flicking in and out of the shadows. Shivers ran up his back. He moved on. Up again, right, and then left. He must be on the second floor by now. If he found a junction where he could go to the right, the library wouldn’t be far.

His shoes squeaked as he pushed himself along. Over the rush of air past his ears he could hear muffled voices, and the smell of antiseptic stung his eyes. Where was he?

Light shone through another vent cover. He pressed his face to it, hoping to see out. It was the school nurse’s office; no other place in the school smelled as bad. He was on the wrong side of the building. Through the vent, the nurse sat on the sick bed, holding down a figure. A blood covered cloth slopped onto the floor. “I don’t care, Jack. Give me your shirt, I need more bandages,” she pleaded. “We have to stop the bleeding.”

“
But...,” replied a shaky voice.

“
Damn it Jack. Now!” she ordered.

Tom punched the vent open and wiggled free, dropping down onto the floor hands first. He was glad not to be confined by the vent any longer.

At the same moment that he hit the floor, the nurse saw him. Her voice pierced Tom’s ears, and she picked up a crutch in her blood soaked hands to charge at him. She clubbed him and thrust the crutch like a spear, knocking him back into the wall.

Tom held up his arms in defense. “Stop! Wait!”

Seeing that he wasn’t a zombie, she dropped the crutches and blinked. “What were you doing in there? How did you...? You could have been hurt. It’s dangerous in there.”

Silent, Tom stared at her.

“
What class did you come from?” she asked.

The walls were painted light green, and an eye chart hung above her desk. He leaned to his side to see past the nurse at the boy on the bed. She leaned in front of him, blocking his view.“Go over there and sit down.”

A cough came from behind; he stiffened and turned. Principal Davies stood in the corner of the room by the door. He held a clipboard over his head like he was ready to strike. His shirt was untucked, and his belly hung out. Even after their meeting earlier Tom was relieved to see the principal. Principals were trained for emergency situations, and this was definitely an emergency. He stepped forward and smiled weakly.

Principal Davies dropped the clipboard and grabbed him by the arms. “What have you seen, Stinson? What’s going on out there? Tell me now.”

“
Let him sit down, Jack. The boy is in shock,” the nurse said.

Tom recoiled, breaking free from Principal Davies’ grasp with a tear in his eye. His voice shook. “I failed. My class is dead.”

“
Figures you’re the one who would run,” the principal said, reaching to grab hold of him again. “Tell me what you saw?”

Tom took a couple quick steps back and crashed into the nurse’s desk. A bottle of antiseptic fell to the floor and shattered, vapor rose up and stung his eyes.

“
You mess up everything you do. Don’t you take the time to think?” Principal Davies snapped.

“
The plane crashed,” Tom said. “I tried to help.”

Principal Davies didn’t listen. His eyes had glazed over. “It must be some sort of biological agent that makes people crazy. Right?”

The boy on the bed began to convulse. “Help me Jack. Hold him down.” the nurse pleaded.

He ignored her. Using the voice that he addressed the school with, he said, “You can’t leave. There’s safety in numbers and I called the police. Help is on the way.”

Tom pointed to the window. “Out there? Haven’t you seen what’s actually happening? The police are already here, but they can’t help us.”

The principal stared past him out the window.

“
No,” Tom said. “They are all on the other side of the school where the plane crashed. Didn’t you hear the sirens?”

“
Help me!” the nurse cried.

The principal’s eyes slid over to the nurse. Tom pushed past him toward the door to see if there was any options for an escape. The principal grabbed him as he passed and snapped him around. “Don’t open that. Are you crazy?”

“
We need to find some place to hide. The library has to be the safest place. We’re definitely not safe here with him in the room. You don’t know what happens to them.”

“
Look mister, I’m the adult here, and you’ll do what I say. It’s too dangerous out there. You can’t go.”

Tom struggled, unable to break free. “Let go. Don’t you see? She needs your help. Don’t you hear her? Help her.”

“
They are fine. Go sit down in the corner. Now’s not the time to cause trouble. We’re waiting for help.”

Tom stomped on the principal’s foot and kicked him as hard as he could in the shin. Principal Davies howled, let go of Tom and hopped about cursing.

“
Stop it. Stop it now.” Tom scooped up the crutch and pointed it at the principal. “I’m not afraid to hit you. Don’t grab me again.”

Still on one foot, the principal lunged at him. “I knew you would be trouble. See it from my point of view. You are a disrespectful, rule-flouting know-it-all whose over confidence will land him in jail one day.”

This time Tom was ready; he sidestepped and swung the crutch. There was a satisfying smack as the wood cracked across the back of the principal’s head. “Stop!” he ordered.

The principal sprawled across the floor and held his hands up to protect himself; blood trickled down the back of his neck. He rolled over and tried to stand up. “You can’t hit me. I’m the principal. I’ll be the judge of what we do.”

Tom held the crutch in defense. “Yeah? You’re not supposed to freak out. You’re supposed to help.”

The boy’s body became still. The nurse felt for a pulse. “He’s dead, Jack.”

The principal pondered his blood covered hand, his shoulders slumped and his arms hung loosely at his sides. “I’m sorry,” he said to the boy on the bed. “It’s my fault. I tried, but I just don’t understand what happened to you. None of this should be happening.”

Tremors rippled across the blood soaked sheet covering the dead boy. Sounds that Tom had never heard before emanated from the body. Tom backed up into the window. How could there be any sound or movement if he wasn’t breathing?

The nurse gasped and ran to the door; tears streaked the makeup down her face. Tom saw fear in her puffy eyes. The principal snapped upright, thrust his arm out and charged. He pushed her away from the door. The door shut with a bang, and he turned the lock. “Don’t open that. They’ll get in here.”

“
They are in here already,” Tom said.

On the bed, the boy’s arms rose up and flailed in the air; his eyes pushed right out of their sockets. Transformed. His face was like a pile of thrown up Chow Mein and grape juice with a toothy puss filled hole for a mouth.

Tom shook his head no. The principal blocked his way out. The boy on the bed had turned. Out of the window it was two floors down. “This is worse than my classroom. He’s one of them.”

It didn’t matter. This was why people jumped from burning buildings. He tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. The wood frame was warped from the humidity of summer. Tom thrust the crutch through the window. Glass and wood shattered, shards and splinters fell to the ground.

The principal turned his head toward Tom. “What do you think you are doing?”

“
Getting out of here,” Tom replied.

The principal let go of the nurse and moved toward him. “Oh no you’re not. It’s safer in here. I can’t let you jump out of a window.”

The nurse kicked Principal Davies in the rear and went for the door again. He yelped, turned back and grabbed her by the wrists. “Don’t open that. Do you want to die?” Over his shoulder to Tom he said. “Go ahead then, but you’re making a bad decision, kid.”

“
Don’t you see what’s happened to him?” Tom pointed at the boy on the bed.

“
He’s dead. That’s what happened.”

Baring her teeth, the nurse hunched down and bit the principal’s hand. He screamed and let go of her.

Tom couldn’t wait. Careful not to cut his neck on the glass, he stuck his head out of the window. The nurse’s office was on the opposite side of the school from the crash. It was clear.

Behind him a hissing, gurgling sound sent shivers up his back. The boy sat up. His mouth opened wider than humanly possible, his teeth twisted before Tom’s eyes, pointing outwards like barbs on a fishing hook.

“
Stop fighting. Don’t you see?” Tom yelled.

The principal was still struggling with the nurse and didn’t listen. Tom turned back to the window. If he hung from the sill he would only have a six foot drop to the ground. Just like dropping from the top of the basketball backboard. Could he do it? Did he have a choice?

He pulled the blanket off the boy and threw it over the window frame. Feet first, he backed out onto the ledge. Under his grip, the blanket squished from the boys’ blood.
You can do this, you can do this
, he chanted to himself.

Taking one last look at the chaos of the nurse’s office, he committed himself to the drop. He held tight onto the sill and pushed his legs over the edge. The toes of his shoes scraped against the brick as he slid down the wall and hung in position. Under his weight, remnants of glass poked through the thin blanket and cut into his fingers. Wincing, he almost lost his grip before he was ready. Exhilaration shot through his body like an electric shock out from the pit of his stomach as he hung there to get a sense of where he would land.

“
See the boy’s not dead,” the principal comforted the nurse. “We can stay here.”

There was a crash and the principal cried out. It was Tom’s final signal to go. Taking the chance of breaking a leg was much better than what would happen if he stayed. He took a deep breath and jumped.

For an eternal second Tom’s pulse pounded in his throat. He hit the hard ground and bounced, narrowly missing the bushes. The force sent him backwards onto his back, knocking the air from his lungs. Pain ripped through his body, deep along his bones. The drop was farther than he estimated. He lay gasping for breath, his vision darkened.

Tom’s eyes snapped open.
Move
, he urged himself. His body failed to cooperate. Splinters of pain shot up from his knees as tried to stand, his legs buckled under his weight and he went down again. He looked every which way, panicking he’d been seen. He clawed at the ground as he tried to stand up again. How long was he out?

He clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand. He whipped around in a circle. It was clear. Grunting with each step he limp-hopped away, but the pain was too great.

The school’s trash area was close. The gate rattled as he squeezed through. He collapsed behind the dumpster and pulled his legs to his chest. He felt for any breaks. He squeezed his eyes tight and breathed deeply to stop the pain.

Through a gap in the fence weave, trouble was coming around the corner of the school. Five, ten, too many, he wasn’t ready. He needed more time to recover. Staying was a death sentence. There was no choice but to go.

Tom moved, but voices pleaded with him as he stood. “Take us with you,” one said.

The dumpster lid rose up a few inches and two faces appeared. Frightened, he fell backwards into the fence. It was the ugly twins from the hall. No one could forget them with their big noses and crooked eyes.

“
Please take us with you,” pleaded the other.

Tom felt like an ice cube was stuck in his throat. He held his stomach. Explanation wouldn’t come out. All he could manage was, “I can’t. It was my fault.”

The twin on the right wrenched the lip of the dumpster. “You have to.”

“
You don’t want to come with me. I can’t be responsible.”

The other twin nodded rapidly, his lips parted. His voice shook. “We can help you. Don’t leave us. Together we can make it.”

The twin on the right pleaded, “You have to help.”

“
Hurry. Help us out of here,” the other twin said.

Tom pulled his hair and shook his head.

“
Please!” the twins wailed.

If they stayed and died it would be his fault. He realized he couldn’t let that happen and flipped the dumpster lid open and pulled them out. “Stay close,” he said, “we are going to the bike racks.”

It didn’t take more than three steps for Tom to realize running across the schoolyard was a mistake. The zombies came after them immediately. They had to turn back to the playground away from the bike racks. Wood chips kicked up as they ran. “This way,” Tom yelled.

“
This is the way to the crash,” one twin said.

He led the twins up the steps to the top of the play structure and spun around looking for a safe way to go. From the top he saw a way to get out of the school yard. Zombies pounded up the blue stairs after them.

The twins screamed. “We’re trapped!”

Tom launched himself down the slide to get away. “Down.”

Infected seventh graders appeared from under the structure at the bottom of the slide. The twins piled up behind him, their hair radiated out from the static. Tom kicked the closest infected seventh grader, knocking him into the others.

Behind him at the top of the play structure, the zombies jammed the metal archway of the slide. They vaulted down head first after him. Tom and the twins ran to the right. “Move!”

Their feet pounded across the basketball court. They hit the fence. Tom picked up a badminton racket that lay on the ground just as a parent with a big green visitor sticker came at them along the fence. Turning left they ran past the tetherball poles. The twins failed to keep up.

“
Not back into the school,” the twins yelled.

Tom swung the tether ball around as they ran past, it bounced off the zombie’s head causing her to stagger. “This isn’t the debate club. Don’t slow down.”

Mr. D, the science teacher, stepped out from behind the gym equipment shed and dove for them with his arms out. The twins screamed and Tom kicked a basketball at him. Mr. D tripped on it and stumbled to the ground.

The zombie janitor was still holding his broom and charged after them from the other direction. Squeezed between Mr. D, the janitor, and the green visitor sticker lady, they were pushed into the lunch area. They hopped up onto a lunch table and ran across the rows, jumping from table to table. They made it across the lunch area. Purple and scaly, the hot lunch lady moved toward them, knocking the hot lunch cart over. Coleslaw and steaming baked beans spilled across the ground. She slipped and fell, giving Tom and the twins time to run past.

The school doors were only 20 feet away. “Through the school,” Tom said. “It’s the fastest way.”

The doors slammed open, and what was left of his class burst out of the school. Tom and the twins skidded to a stop on the gravel of the school yard. He drew the twins to him. “Stay close.”

Dripping with zombie goo, the pretty boy stopped and stared at him. He wasn’t so pretty now as his face split open with a roar.

The zombies converged on them. Tom’s gym class short cut between the bushes was to the left. The only way to get to it was to fight.

Tom charged forwards, bowling into the zombies at the front of the pack and knocking them down. He kicked the other zombies back and swung the badminton racket, batting hands away as they moved toward the bushes. The short cut was clear.

Lost lunches and juice boxes crunched under their feet; thorns cut and tore at their arms as they ran. Keeping low, the hedges shielded them from the sight of all but their pursuers. Behind them, the zombies tripped over each other as they tried to get into the narrow passageway. They emerged from the hedges on the same side of the school as his classroom. Smoke from the plane hung in the air and hoses criss-crossed the yard. Past the plane wreckage and the science unit, the bike racks were around the corner.

A group of students emerged from the smoke, running at full speed with zombies on their tails. One twin pulled his brother and Tom back as they passed. Their wheezing inhaling and rapid exhaling sounded like a steam train. Their faces were red and their clothes were torn. One kid had lost a shoe.

One twin stepped forward. “Hey, over here!” he yelled.

The other twin pulled him back against the wall and cupped his hands over his mouth. “We can’t help them.”