Zombie High (13 page)

Thinking about your own plans and the things you
have left to get, you say “I’m sorry, Mr. Castle. I promised
some people I would get them some stuff first.”

Coming back through the speaker, Mr. Castle says,
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. The fact that
you’re going out of your way to help others in all of this is
more than enough. If you make it through all of this, we’ll
be on the roof. You’re welcome to join us up there.”

“Thanks, Mr. Castle.”
Before signing off, he adds, “Good luck out there.”
Clicking off the PA, you take a minute to try and

come up with a plan. It’s pretty clear that making the
announcement throughout the whole school didn’t do
much, and since Mr. Castle was the only one to use the
speaker system to talk back to you, it’s best to bet that
there aren’t too many other people out there who are
either willing or able to help. You also realize that trying
to get through the mess of zombies in the nurse’s office is
crazy without some sort of weapon. Granted, a gun
would be nice, but since you’re in a school, it’s highly
unlikely you’re going to just happen to find one. Too bad
this isn’t one of those survival horror games like
Left for
Dead
, or
Resident Evil
. People in those games come
across weapons and boxes of ammunition everywhere:
hospitals, churches, graveyards, and just left randomly out
on the street. In a school, however, no one has a gun and
there isn’t any ammunition just lying around.
That’s when you come up with the next best thing.

One of your English teachers, Mr. Beard, was a big time
hunter. He even had a picture on the wall in his classroom
of him next to a giant black bear hanging upside down
which he killed. The biggest deal about all of this was that
he also used a bow and arrow which normally stayed in
his Jeep, a Jeep which is always parked in the first spot
closest to the door because of how early he gets to school
every day. All you need to do is get to his Jeep. Then
you’ll have a real weapon.

With this thought in mind, and your feet already
moving, you make it to the door and dart out into the
hallway eager to get your hands on a real zombie killer. In
your brain, you know there’s no way he’ll have a gun in his
Jeep, not on school property, but you can’t help but
contemplate some of the other things he might have:
perhaps a machete, some rope, who knows, maybe a flare
gun. The guy is like a survivalist hunter type, he could
have anything in there. You’re so busy thinking about
these possibilities and trying to get to his Jeep that you
actually run right into him.

As you stumble backwards bouncing off of his
barrel chest, you realize that something didn’t feel right.
Maybe it was the softness of his muscles, or the fact that
his beard was wet with some sort of thick viscous fluid,
but he wasn’t his normal self. That’s when you look up
and meet the cold, blank stare of his new zombie eyes.

You quickly scramble backwards trying to get back
into the office, hoping you’ll be able to get to safety in
there and lock the door when you feel his hands grab hold
of your shirt. For just a second you hear the threads of
your shirt begin to tear, and you think maybe it might rip
far enough that you can get free, but that’s when you feel
his teeth sinking into your exposed shoulder. You scream
out in pain as he falls on top of you before his weight
crushes the air out from your lungs, and as you bleed out,
you remind yourself:
You never wanted to join his Dead
Poet Society club when you were alive
.

From here at the teachers’ lounge, you’ll need to
make your way back down to the first floor near the
entrance in order to get to the science labs. The labs
themselves are their own room, standing between two of
the science rooms with doors inside leading to each of
them. One of the rooms is used by Mr. Tibbs, and the
other room is used by Mr. Ray. Mr. Tibbs is really nice,
and he jokes around with the students a lot, but after
what happened at the front door this morning, there’s no
telling what kind of mood he’ll be in, or if he’ll be human
at all. Mr. Ray, while nice in his own way, is more like the
nerdy Sheldon from that TV show. He teaches physics,
advanced chemistry, and human anatomy. He’s also the
kind of guy you know is a genius, but that in itself is
enough to make you a little scared of him when he’s in a
lab.

With this in mind, you take off for the first floor,
careful to tread lightly through the halls so as not to draw
any extra attention to yourself from the creatures that
surely want to eat your flesh. When you reach the stairs,
you find yourself thinking about some of the stories Mr.
Ray told your class about the things he had made in the
past. Clearly, one of the man’s favorite items was a
walking stick he carved himself. The way he told it, he had
rigged up a Taser somehow at one end which he could
point at a person and make them drop to the ground
twitching, and on the bottom, he dug out a section and
installed a metal spike which could pop out with
something over five hundred pounds of force. There were
other things he mentioned in class, stuff that involved
chemicals he would never let you touch but that he got
since he could pretty much buy whatever he wanted as a
teacher. Needless to say, however, if he was capable of
making stuff like that, maybe he would be able to make
you some things. That would take care of the weapons
and the first aid kit all in one shot.

As you reach the first floor, visions of you as James
Bond with Mr. Ray as Q float through your head, and you
find yourself already wondering what kind of cool
gadgetry he might be able to outfit you with. It’s because
of these thoughts occupying your mind that you step right
out into the hall without thinking to check for zombies
first. Luckily, you catch sight in your peripherals of
someone down the other corridor, and you stop to see
who it is. From about a hundred feet away, you can
already tell that whoever it is isn’t aware of you, and it’s a
good thing. Down the hall just a foot away from the right
wall like a statue that’s been misplaced, a zombie stands
perfectly still staring intently at the school’s logo painted
on the side of the cinderblock. Not wanting to be spotted,
you check your left and behind you and then slowly step
back towards the stairs. That’s when your shoes break
the tranquil silence of the hallway by squeaking on the
floor.

Looking to your right, your inner worst thoughts
are rewarded with the confirmation of being correct once
again as you see the zombie who was content to stare at
the wall a moment ago now almost running towards you.
Giving up on the idea on a retreat to the stairs, something
that obviously wouldn’t help you in the long run as you
want to get to that first aid kit, you make a break for the
science labs.

Running down the hall, you are able to put some
distance between you and the uncoordinated creature
who’s after you, but you know that if you can’t get to
safety quickly, you’ll end up on its cannibalistic dinner
plate. Panting by the time you get there, you begin to
knock loudly on the door of the science lab. Your knocks
not receiving the immediate attention that you’re hoping
for, you move down the hall and begin to knock on Mr.
Ray’s classroom door. From the other side, you hear
some movement and the sound of some furniture being
moved, and for just a second, you think that perhaps Mr.
Ray was turned as well, and he is in there just stumbling
around his own room. With that in mind, you
unconsciously begin to take a couple steps back, your
body now preparing to flee, when you hear a voice ask,
”Have you been bitten?”

With one more loud scraping sound coming from
the other side of the door, you notice that the zombie is
now only a few feet away, and it looks like the noises have
somehow managed to entice it to move quicker. Still
considering the option of running, you hold out for two
more seconds before you see the door begin to slowly
open before you. Reaching forward, you grab the handle
and yank it open, ripping it from Mr. Ray’s grip, just in
time for it to slam into the zombie’s face as it lunges for
you. The impact doesn’t kill the zombie, but it does stop it
in its tracks long enough for you to dive inside and for Mr.
Ray to quickly close the door behind you.

Safely inside, you begin to look around and notice
that the room seems to be pretty full. Along the wall
where the door is, there are several book shelves,
cabinets, and desks, all of which were apparently hastily
moved out of the way just so that you could get in. The
rest of the room, now devoid of some its furnishings, has
other students. Recognizing a few of them, including the
school’s valedictorian and a handful whom you’ve seen
milling around Mr. Ray’s room after school, you realize
that Mr. Ray must have had a class in session, like Miss
Millstone, when the lockdown went into effect.

Behind you, Mr. Ray and two other students finish
pushing some of the furniture back into place before Mr.
Ray steps over to you and asks, “Are you sure you haven’t
been bitten?”

Holding out your arms for him to see, you say, “No,
Mr. Ray. I’m clean.”
Tilting his head, Mr. Ray says, “If it were only that
easy.” Then shaking his head, as if to dismiss the thought,
Mr. Ray says, “Anyway, I’m glad you made it. Can you tell
us what it’s like out there?”
Thinking about it for a second, you say, “Think
about the zombie movies you’ve seen. Pretty much like
that, but the good thing is we still seem to be in the
beginning part because they zombies are slow, well, kind
of slow, and they don’t seem to be able to do much more
than attack the closest living person and eat them.”
Latching on to the end of your comment, Mr. Ray
asks, “So you’ve seen them attack someone?”
Shrugging, you say, “Well, yeah. I mean there was
the stuff with Mr. Tibbs by the entrance this morning, lots
of people saw that, and then while I was in Miss
Millstone’s class, a zombie attacked.”
“Okay, so what happened in Miss Millstone’s?”
asks Mr. Ray in a strangely clinical voice which made it
sound like you were at the doctors being interviewed
about when a fungus infection on one of your toenails
began.
“Well, we went into lockdown, and then there was
a knocking or something at the door. When Millstone
answered it, the zombie attacked her and started biting
into her.”
Holding up a finger, Mr. Ray asks, “You said there
was a knocking. Can you describe it?”
Thinking of this as a strange question, you try to
recall exactly what you heard and answer, “Well, it was
like a knock, but not exactly. It was kind of squishy
sounding, like maybe the zombie was walking into the
door and hitting it with his face.”
Nodding as if this confirms something he was
already thinking, he says, “Okay, what else?”
Shrugging your left shoulder, you say, “That’s it.
When the zombie attacked, I recognized it for what it was
and got the heck out of there. I tried going up the hall to
get help, but no one was around, and when I finally found
somebody in the teachers’ lounge, they said I had to bring
them some stuff before they would let me in.”
From the other side of the room, Mackie, one of
the seniors you recognize, stands up from the microscope
he’s been fiddling with and says, “Mr. Ray, I think I’ve
found it.”
Looking back, almost as if he forgot Mackie was in
the room, Mr. Ray says, “Oh, good, let me see,” before he
steps away from you, seemingly satisfied with your
answers and the story of how you made it to his room.
Not knowing what else to do, you follow him and
ask, “What are you looking at?”
Answering you, Mackie says, “It’s a parasite. Mr.
Ray thinks it’s what’s causing the zombies.”
Curious, you ask, “Really? Where did you guys get
it? Did you capture one of the zombies or something?”
Looking down, Mackie says, “No. Nothing like
that.”
Standing up from the microscope, Mr. Ray looks to
the ceiling as if he’s deep in thought putting a mental
picture together in his head before he finally says, “It’s the
water.”
“What?” you ask, not understanding his statement.
“The parasites, they’re in the water.”
“Like the drinking water?” you ask in disbelief.
“Yes, and the toilet water, the faucets, all of it.”
“How can that be? I mean, if it’s in the water then
wouldn’t we all be infected?” you ask.
Nodding sadly, Mr. Ray says, “Yes, we are. From
my best guess, everyone is probably infected with these
parasites.”
“No way. That can’t be. I mean, I’m not a zombie,
and none of you look like one either.”
“The parasite can’t really begin to do its work as
long as the body’s normal immune system is working. It
looks like it is just in our bloodstream kind of hanging out
and waiting for its opportunity.”
“You mean waiting for us to die,” you say, clarifying
his statement.
Shrugging, he says, “Yes, or something else to
cause the body’s immune system to stop functioning at
which point it goes to work, taking control of certain brain
functions so that it can direct the person towards its goal
of spreading the contagions.”
Noticing how he pluralized the last word, you ask,
“What do you mean, ‘
contagions
’? It’s the parasite that
we have to worry about, right?”
Shaking his head, Mr. Ray says, “No. Actually, since
we are all already infected with the parasite as far as I can
tell, it’s not the parasite that’s the biggest problem
anymore. When the zombies attack they are doing two
things. First, it would seem that they try to bite for the
neck, the inner arm, or the inner thigh where the arteries
are close to the skin. The person’s death will be the most
likely, and the parasite can gain control over the victim, or
in this case host is probably more accurate a term, quickly.
The other issue is the bites themselves. People have a ton
of bacteria and viruses in their mouths, and when they
bite people, they are essentially spreading those things
around. Added to that, as they bite, they ingest the blood
and flesh of their victims and become carriers for any
additional contagious things that person was carrying. By
this point, considering the statistics, the average zombie
out there is carrying everything from AIDS and Hepatitis to
E. coli and Staphylococcus in its mouth, in addition to the
common cold and gingivitis.”
Understanding where his train of thought is going,
you say, “So these things are really just vectors for all of
the bad stuff out there, and if they don’t kill you outright,
their bites will by infecting you with a bunch of nasty
stuff?”
“Exactly,” says Mr. Ray, all too excited about the
fact that you showed that you knew the material almost
forgetting what the implications of the statement were.
“Where did it come from?” you ask.
“That one is a little harder, but I think that when
the economy bottomed out and the pharmaceutical plant
closed up, they dumped a lot of their stuff into the water.
When that happened, it all mixed together, and the
bacteria and plants in the water consumed it. Honestly,
there’s no telling what that could have done, and how it
would have affected future generations of the stuff, but
it’s the most likely scenario. I mean to look at this thing
under a microscope, it appears to have quite a few
characteristics in common with the Ophiocordyceps
Fungi.”
“Fungi, you mean like mushrooms?” asks one of
the other students in the room.
“Kind of, but this is a parasitic fungi. Anyway, the
Ophiocordyceps takes control of the minds of ants and
turns them zombie-like. That’s something that’s been
around for a while. Now the way I see it, if the
pharmaceutical company dumped enough of the right
stuff in the water, it could have forced the parasites to
adapt or evolve. Either way, they’re here now.”
Asking the obvious question, you say, “So, what are
we going to do?”
Thinking about it for second, Mr. Ray says, “Well,
the good news is that the parasite will not be able to
maintain the human body for too long. It’s like they are
the captain of the Titanic after the ship hit the iceberg.
The people they are controlling are either already dead, or
so far gone that medical science could never bring them
back. The only difference is that now instead of them just
lying on the ground, or as in my original analogy the
captain going down with his ship, it’s trying to hit as many
other ships, in this case people, as it can to bring them
down with it.”
“How long do you think it will be before they all
sink?”
“Not sure, a week or two?” answers Mr. Ray,
inflecting his voice at the end to indicate he doesn’t
exactly know the timeframe.
Going back into survival mode, you say, “Well, we
are going to need to get out of here and find safety at
some point. We’ll need food and stuff during those two
weeks.”
Holding up a finger, Mr. Ray says, “Yes, I was
thinking about how to get us out of here just before you
arrived. Using some things from the physics class and the
anatomy class, I think I came up with a few options, but I
don’t know what’s going to work best, and I don’t have
enough for everyone. What I really need is for someone
to test them and see what works.”
Looking around the room, none of the others look
like they are prepared to volunteer, and you know you still
need to get back up to the teachers’ lounge at some point
so you say, “I’ll do it.”
Smiling, Mr. Ray says, “I thought you might. Come
with me, I have some things I think you’ll like,” before he
walks you to the back of the room and opens the door
which connects to the shared lab. Following him in, you
find the room in complete disarray from its usual tidiness,
with equipment, chemicals, and coils of wire scattered
about. Somewhere in it all, you spot what looks like three
main work spaces.
Looking to Mr. Ray, you ask, “What is all of this?”
“When I first realized what was happening, I took
some of my advanced students in here, and we started
working on ways to put the creatures down. Now, it’s
only been an hour or so, and I don’t have much, but these
are the three things that I think have the most promise.”
Pointing to the closest workspace, he says, “This is a
rolling cart I’ve rigged up with the six car batteries we
used in the physics class and a metal rod in the front. It’s
a little heavy but you can’t beat the juice that it has
kicking through it. Push it into one of them, and it will fry
their entire central nervous system. The parasite can’t
make them move if the pathways from the brain to the
muscles are gone.”
You stand behind the cart and push it back and
forth checking its maneuverability before saying, “It looks
good, but the school doesn’t have an elevator. How are
we supposed to get it upstairs?”
“Either get a couple of people to carry it, or it will
have to be a first floor defense item only. The charge on
the batteries isn’t going to last indefinitely anyway.”
Thinking about it, you ask, “Is there a way we could
just have one battery like in a backpack or something?
That way we could have more than one person with a
weapon and getting up the stairs wouldn’t require
multiple people.”
“We could, but then I doubt you would get more
than four or five hits off the battery before it was drained
too far to be very effective,” answers Mr. Ray.
Nodding your understanding, you ask, “Okay, what
else you got?”
Stepping over to the next workstation, Mr. Ray
says, “This is a little more dangerous. I mixed up some
chemicals from the back room. This one is a sulfur
compound, and this is a catalyst that reacts with it. When
the two are mixed, it will melt through pretty much
anything organic in seconds. Real nasty stuff, you don’t
want to get any on you, but effective as all get out.”
“Cool,” you say, already envisioning the zombies
melting before you.
Stepping back, Mr. Ray says, “The last thing I have
are these sheep brains which we use in the human
anatomy class. The idea is that if these really are brain
eating zombies, we might be able to distract them by
throwing these.”
“You just said that these were caused by some sort
of parasite. Do you think they’ll still work?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Mr. Ray says, “Honestly, I
don’t know. The fact is the chemicals have been sitting on
shelves in the back storeroom since the 1980s and are
probably heavily oxidized. There’s a chance they won’t
work at all, and they might react too well and start a fire.
The batteries as I said will only last so long, and the brains,
well, they just might not be interested in something that is
already dead and soaked in formaldehyde.”
Looking over the choices before you, you can’t help
but think a gun would have been a lot better, but there is
still some pretty cool stuff here. Reaching out, you make
your selection.