Date: 2018-02-18 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Zombies; Dystopia
Description: Flesh-eating zombies on campus. A virus gone wild. Do I stand a chance against the undead? My name is Jane, and tonight is my first night on the air. I’m looking forward to my isolated night shifts at the school radio station. It's the only place I can escape the bullies and quiet my anxiety. When rumors spread of a viral epidemic ripping through the wintery campus, I’m happy to be safe in the snug studio. But after communications go down and the infected break into the station, my peace turns into panic. Fearing for my life, my only path of escape runs through the dark, snow-covered campus. B

Closed Campus

Jane Zombie Chronicles

Book 1

Gayle Katz

In Your Face Publishers

Blue Bell, PA

Copyright © 2018 Gayle Katz

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the author. For permissions contact:

gayle@gaylekatz.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Visit the author’s website at GayleKatz.com

Dedication

________________________________________

This book is dedicated to every zombie apocalypse fan and undead enthusiast out there who helped me along my debut novel journey. This one’s for you!

Table of Contents

________________________________________

Closed Campus

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Chapter 1

________________________________________

10:10 a.m.

I stare out of the window of my third-floor classroom watching the snowfall. Snow has a well-deserved bad reputation here in upstate New York.

My professor is running late. I look at my watch. 10:10 a.m. Class was supposed to start at 10:00 a.m.

Where is he? I wonder as I twirl my longish brown hair around my fingers.

How rude of me. I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Jane. At the time of this story, I am in my second semester of college away from home, and the introvert in me is coming out again. Going away to college wasn’t my first choice after high school. I really want to stay close to home, continue working at my marketing internship, and save money. Instead, my parents pushed me to go away so I could experience life out from under their safe and secure wing.

Now I’m in a classroom with a bunch of crazy teenagers in a strange town. Sitting in this old brick building in a cold, sterile science classroom with those artificial, yellowish florescent lights shining down makes me want to go back to sleep. I mean, chemistry at 10:00 a.m. is just painful. Add the energy-draining lights and the beige classroom walls devoid of warmth and natural light, and what strength I have vanishes.

Looking around the room, everything is clean and pristine. Every microscope and Bunsen burner has its place; even the chalkboard has been completely wiped clean.

Turning my head away from the window, I look down at my hands. Not knowing what to do or what protocol to follow, I pull my phone out of my bag to listen to the local radio station to take my mind off my nerves. Not only is it a great radio station run mostly by the students, but also I’d be working there tonight. It’s going to be my first overnight shift. I have been practicing for weeks.

It wasn’t easy, getting ready for tonight, I mean. I committed to learning how a good DJ works a radio station. I practiced turning on the microphone, making sure I had high enough sound levels to ensure listeners could hear me, but not so high that I didn’t blow out anyone’s ears.

My training didn’t stop there. One of the most important things I learned is how to transition between songs so there’s no dead air. Dead air isn’t just a general bummer, but also gets people to change the station fast, and that means fewer listeners.

With all this practice, I haven’t actually listened to the station much over the past few weeks. That’s got to change.

I put in my ear buds and make sure I’m on the right station.

“And those are your college hockey scores. The highlight? Lance ‘the Great’ Miller pulls another slap shot out of his magic hat!”

“Wow! How does he keep doing it, Logan? It’s pretty much insane how good that guy is, right?”

“Well, he’s certainly keeping our team in the thick of it. Without him I’m not sure we’d be in play.”

“If I were a betting man, I’d certainly risk a few dollars on him.”

“Just don’t jinx it, Jack. We need Lance unfettered and free to mop up the ice with these guys.”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear ya.”

“You think he’s goin’ pro after his college days are done?”

“Only time will tell, man. Only time will tell.”

I guess I missed the news, but all things considered these guys on-air seem pretty decent.

Going on the air is no longer just something that would happen in the future. It’s only a few hours away. I could feel my heart flutter with anticipation and anxiety. Just breathe, I tell myself.

Who’s jumpy today? Gotta calm down. I start picking my fingers. Don’t judge. It’s my coping mechanism for when I’m alone, uneasy, excited, terrified, whatever. OK, it’s a habit.

When will the professor get here? When will class start?

I realize I need another distraction.

Hm. Maybe I have time to go to the bathroom before he gets here.

Hopping out of my chair, I make a dash for the door and bolt down the hall in search of the bathroom. I run right into someone. Not just any someone, though, it’s that hot jock I’ve seen in the hall. I’ve definitely taken notice although I would never utter a word to him. Why would he want to talk to me anyway? He’s quite nice to look at, though.

Falling to the floor, all I can do is stare up at him. Everything about him seems perfect: big blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, strong, muscular arms, big hands, bouncy dark brown hair. I don’t want him to think I’m staring, but I can’t look away.

Mesmerized by his perfection and stunned from our chance encounter, I manage a quick, “Hi.”

He extends his hand to help me up.

“Hi back at you. In a hurry?”

“Um. Yeah. My professor is running late, so I thought I could make it to the bathroom and back before he gets to class.”

He looks at his watch and smiles at me. “You better hurry. You don’t want to be late.”

“I will. Sorry. Didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

“That’s OK. I kinda liked it. I’m Lance.” He’s still smiling.

“Mm hm. Lance? Lance from the hockey team? I think the sports guy mentioned you on the news this morning.”

“He probably did. Well, they normally do. I’m a pretty good hockey player.”

“You’re pretty confident.”

“Yeah. I am. It’s easy when you’re the best hockey player in the entire school.”

He has this cocky confidence that’s really appealing. I smile at him and continue on to the bathroom. As I’m walking forward, I turn back around to see him still looking at me and smiling. I smile too.

***

Back in class, I catch myself staring out the window again. I see the snow coming down faster and heavier now. If it snows anymore, walking to my next class isn’t going to be easy.

The snow seems to be coming down faster and faster. That’s when I see a huge 4x4 pull into the professor’s designated parking spot. All-wheel drive vehicles are important up here. If you get stuck in the snow, you might not make it out until springtime. The snow here is that crazy.

Moments later, I can see the professor step out of his car. Even in the midst of snow and blowing winds he still manages to keep himself together. He grabs his nice leather briefcase and briskly walks to the front door. He’s quite tall and very good-looking, for a professor.

While we haven’t talked one-on-one yet, we have interacted in class. He asks a question. I answer it. He tells me I’m correct, and he smiles a sexy smile at me. I smile a nervous little one back at him.

I’m pretty sure he’s got a thing for me, or at least I think he does. You know that feeling, right? When someone is looking at you, and they can see right into your soul? You get all discombobulated and flushed. And that scares me. He’s always smiling when I ask him chemistry questions. Sometimes when he’s answering my questions in class, he walks down the aisle and stares, and I feel the electricity between us.

Just the thought of him gets me excited, but I can’t do anything about it. He’s my professor, for gosh sakes!
His footsteps get louder, and I hear and then see the doorknob turn. The professor opens the classroom door and enters, brushing the snow off his coat.

He looks especially handsome today. I try to focus.

“OK, class. Simmer down.”

He pulls the early morning edition of the newspaper out of his expensive briefcase and looks at the front page. I see a smile creep over his face, and he seems so satisfied with himself. He turns the paper to us and points at the big, bold headline: Cure for Cancer Found!

He tells us in his typical condescending manner, “Not that you lowly undergrads can appreciate what success looks like, but something very exciting is happening. You’re in the presence of greatness. I am being recognized as the top scientist in the world. You should feel privileged knowing that your professor is a ground-breaking visionary.”

“So you cured which cancer?” one student blurts out.

“It’s a form of bone cancer” he replies. “Impressed? You should be.”

He’s so arrogant, I thought. Part of me finds him fascinating because he’s so smart and takes charge. Another part finds him incredibly egotistical, as if he thinks he’s better than everyone else. It makes me sick when he takes every opportunity to remind us we’re not on his level, and we never will be.

I swear he looks right at me. It’s like he can hear what I am thinking.

“I’ve heard students in this class mumbling about why they have to take science classes and how the sciences won’t help them when they enter the ‘real’ world,” he says with the accompanying air quotes.

“With that said, I’d like to shatter all of those misconceptions. Without science there would be no progress in this world. Without science there’d be no cure.”

He look around the room.

“If we succeed, it will be science that helps heal people of this horrible condition. It will be science that allows people to live longer lives. Chew on that!”

“Is the cure ready for the public? How far along are you?” I ask.

“Not yet, but very astute of you, Jane. We’re far enough along to begin trials on actual cancer patients. It’s exciting work.” He beams at me.

I don’t say anything else.

Hands are raising and the other students are asking questions about his research. I hear a few students mumble something about the professor being the foremost authority in multiple scientific fields, not just chemistry, but genetics too. Loving when the conversation revolves around him, he manages to answer their queries with some uppity answers. After about fifteen minutes of Q&A, he decides it’s time to get back to educating us monkeys.

“OK, back to our studies.”

I swear he gives me one of his sly smiles again. I look away, wondering if anyone else notices. Maybe I’m reading too much into what’s happening. He could just be a good professor who’s proud of his accomplishments, after all. I focus on the front of the classroom again.

It seems like every time I look at him, he’s already looking at me. It’s eerie.

Over my own thoughts I hear him say, ‘Take out your writing implement and your notebook.”

I open my bag and search frantically for my pen. No dice. How could I have forgotten it? After searching and searching, I see the professor walk toward me. He pulls out one of his pens and offers it to me.

“Make sure I get it back, Jane,” he says with a smile.

I nod.

As class continues, I forget about my professor as my mind races. There are so many things I need to do before heading off to the radio station tonight. I am preoccupied with the rest of my classes and thinking about doing my homework as well as fitting in time to eat and sleep in order to be ready for my 2 a.m. shift.

The radio station is my attempt to crack open my shell, be more outgoing, and meet new people. While it’s completely out of my comfort zone, I feel it’s necessary to live my life. I don’t want to be so shy and introverted forever. It keeps me from experiencing the things I want to experience, not that I really know what that means or exactly what I want to experience.

The time in class passes fairly quickly. It’s easy when you have a nice-looking professor pacing around in front of you. Before I know it, it’s time. Class is over.

I pack up my books and spring out of my chair in the hopes of sprinting to my next class when my professor asks me to wait.

“Jane, come and see me before you head out.”

I sit back down. Without saying a word, I smile and wonder, What does he want to see me for?

For a moment, I forget about the rest of my classes. I patiently wait for the rest of the students to funnel out of the classroom. As the last student exits, I get up from my chair and walk the few steps down to the front of his desk.

He walks around his desk so he is standing face-to-face with me. It’s the first time we are alone. It’s a little too close for my liking so I back up a bit.

He takes the opportunity to move in closer.

“You didn’t seem engaged in today’s lecture, Jane.”

I don’t know what to say. He takes another step closer, and I take another back.

“Is there something I can do to get you more… interested?”

“Um. No, I’m fine.”

Another step back. I’m back where I started at my desk. He leans in close.

He extends his arm and touches my hand.

“Are you sure? I have office hours now, and I don’t have anyone else booked.”

I quickly retract my hand from his touch. I am attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? But he’s my professor, and I have to get to my next class.

Feeling incredibly uneasy, I want to leave and keep what is left of my personal space personal.

“Thanks for the offer, Professor. I really appreciate it,” I say as I try to muster up a smile.

“Why are you so hesitant, Jane? I know this is only your second semester. Freshmen need all the help they can get, and I’m willing to help you. Let me.”

My mind is swirling with everything that’s happening.

“I—I—”

This time he grabs my hand and holds it tight. I try to pull away, but I can’t. He won’t let go. He’s being grabby, and I’m feeling awkward. I know I’m a freshman, but this can’t be how a typical professor/student relationship should be. At least it’s not with my other professors. Why is he acting like this? Maybe his accomplishments are making him way over-confident?

From the corner of my eye I notice a crowd of students waiting at the door. I look at them, but the professor is still staring at me, waiting for my answer.

“I think you have students waiting for you,” I say as I point to the door.

He turns to look at the door, and I am finally able to yank my hand away from him. I try to play it cool.

“Gotta get to my next class. See you tomorrow, Professor,” I say as I run out of his classroom.

So many thoughts are whirling through my head as I escape into the hallway. What just happened there? He’s always been a bit flirty, but today is different. Why is he hitting on me? Should I report him? Should I take him up on his offer? My anxiety is taking over. Feeling overwhelmed, I can’t think. What would the extroverted, adventurous person inside of me do?

OK, forget all this. As I exit the building, I have to focus on getting to my next class.

I get a little bit of a sprint going. Maybe getting the blood flowing will help me release my pent-up frustration. Besides, I am running late.

As I near my next antiquated classroom building almost buried in snow, I run into Lance again. I smile at him as I approach the front steps. He is wearing a baseball cap now and has a hockey stick strapped to his back. I am going to try to make small talk with him. Of course, with me, all talk seems pretty big and intimidating.

“Hi again. We seem to have a similar schedule today.”

“Yep. We keep running into each other.”

“That’s a fun coincidence.” Did I just say that’s a fun coincidence? Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. I smile and try to walk up the stairs to get to class, but he steps in front of me.

At the same time, he turns his cap backwards. He leans in close.

“Sorry. Can’t let you go in yet,” he says with a smile.

“Uh. Why not?”

He leans in closer.

“You never told me your name.”

“Oh. Sorry! My name is Jane. Can I get by now?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“You didn’t agree to have dinner with me. I can’t let you in until you agree to go to dinner with me.”

His offer totally catches me off-guard. “I didn’t know that was an offer. I’ll think about it.” I smile. “I really, really have to get to class, Lance. I’m late.”

I start to walk toward the door. At the same time, he leans over and puts his arm across the entrance. I stop. I see the adjacent door is open and decide to try that door, but he walks over and blocks that doorway too.

“Please just let me by,” I ask, pleaded really.

“I’ll let you by. No problem. Go out with me.”

“Why are you doing this? I just want to go to class.”

“Am I bothering you? Listen. Either you put out or you can get out.”

“What?” I say, stunned. I sigh. I’m not going to make it to my next class after all. He just stands there. Emotionless.

Frustrated and on the verge of crying, I blurt out, “Fine. I’m going. Just leave me alone, OK?”

Dejected, I start to walk away. Confrontation isn’t my thing. I’d rather just get out of here. I’m going back to the dorms. If everyone else is at class, it’ll be nice and quiet there.

“Hey!” he shouts.

I turn my head back around.

“If you change your mind, and I know you will, I’m in Lincoln Hall, Room 342.”

12:00 p.m.

My head is spinning. Screw the rest of my classes today. I can’t handle them right now anyway. I’m going back to the dorm to relax. My nerves are shot. I do an about-face and start back.

Walking back to the dorms, I clearly see some camouflaged military vehicles against the stark white of the falling snow. That’s odd. They’re parked outside of my professor’s building.

As my eyes analyze the situation, I catch a glimpse of a young guy in fatigues leaning quite suggestively over a girl. I recognize her from my class. She is smiling, and I am staring. Who wouldn’t stare, right? He’s touching her face and getting closer to her. Really close. She wraps her arms around his neck and brings him closer.

That’s when my jaw drops. They’re kissing. I mean, really kissing in front of everybody and anybody walking past the building.

When he pops his head up to look around, I quickly break off my view. I don’t want him to see me staring. I’m positive that wouldn’t come off well. I can’t resist, though. I peek again, but this time the girl is gone and my professor is talking with a few of the military guys, including the one previously drooling all over that girl from class. I can’t hear what they are saying, but I do see a lot of arm and hand gestures indicating their conversation isn’t going well.

The real question I have is, Why are the military and my professor talking with each other? Perplexing. Maybe they’re just recruiting like they do in high school? I dismiss it. It’s none of my business anyway. I continue walking home.

Just then my phone starts making noise. I take it out of my bag, flip it open, and see that I have a text message. Strange. No one has my number except for my parents and the school.

Don’t make the wrong decision.

What? Who is texting me? It’s a local number, but I have no clue who it is. Probably just a wrong number. I put my phone back in my bag and keep walking to my dorm.

The snow is starting to fall faster. When the flakes hit the ground, they don’t disappear. Instead, flake-by-flake they start to cover up the ground with white. The campus is turning into a winter wonderland. I just hope I’ll be able to get to the radio station tonight.

My thoughts turn to what a dud this day had become. When I woke up, the morning seemed so promising, but then my professor and that hockey lug-head Lance completely ruined it. They also made me feel really uncomfortable. Why do people feel the need to bully me into doing things? If you like me or think I like you, why not be nice about it rather than being an asshole?

Tired from drudging through the snowdrifts, I spot what look like two people making out against the wall, necking really, cold snowflakes hitting their heads. They are really going at it.

It’s the middle of the day. “Get a room,” I mumble.

Finally, I make it back to my dorm. I run up the three flights of stairs and open the door into my drab, undecorated half of a room. My roommate isn’t there. She’s probably in class, which is where I should be right now, but who cares? I just can’t deal with life right now.

I decide to skip lunch. Instead I lie down on my bed to relax and chill out.

Staring at the ceiling, I feel my eyes getting heavy. Why is being here so tough? Why are people making it even worse? Why doesn’t everyone just leave me alone? I start to sob a little, which takes my last ounce of strength. I doze off.

I dream that I am back in class. This time, though, my professor is holding onto my arm tightly and won’t let me go. I’m pulling away from him, but his grip is too tight. As I start to get upset, I wake up in a panic. I guess I fell asleep, but it’s far from peaceful.

Just then, my phone starts buzzing again. I pick it up and see I have another text message:

Last chance to do what’s right.

Shit! Who’s texting me? Why won’t they leave me alone?

What’s that mean anyway? Last chance to do what’s right? Last chance? I don’t understand. This is clearly a mistake. These text messages must be for someone else. I decide to write back:

I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are, and I’ve been receiving your texts. You have the wrong number.

There. Done. As I put my phone back in my bag, I notice that I have forgotten to give the professor back his pen. I’ll put it on his desk tomorrow before class starts. I go back to sleep.

8:00 p.m.

Exhausted and still lying in bed, I check my watch. I’ve slept the entire afternoon and early evening away, but it’s anything but restful. I’m still tired, and now my stomach is growling. I need to grab some food. There’s just enough time to make it to the dining hall before it closes.

Despite the time I spent sleeping, I am shaking from nerves, from everything not going my way. It’s worse when I get to my feet. Heading off to the dining hall, I get to thinking.

Maybe I should see the friendly female campus psychologist and talk? Being on my own is turning out to be more stressful than I originally thought it would be, and having all these people hounding me is driving me even crazier, if that’s even possible. I guess this is how college prepares you for real life?

I do feel comfortable with her. We met during orientation. We were introduced after the mandatory medical evaluation I went through when I accepted the offer here. They took my blood, asked for emergency contact people, and made sure I was healthy enough for class. I remember thinking then that all the hubbub in order to take a couple of classes was ridiculous.

Maybe I will reach out to her. Tomorrow, I think. Yeah, tomorrow.

Right now, I need to focus on getting my butt to the radio station for my shift. Just focus on that. Ever since I was turned down to read the morning announcements in high school, I have always wanted to be on the air. Now’s my chance. Plus, I’ll get practice being social and talking to people. I definitely need that. After a few weeks of training, I think I’m ready to go. Gotta get pumped for it. I pack my bag with my books, makeup, and anything else I think I might need for the next twenty-four hours. After my 2-6 a.m. overnight shift, I have a full day of classes to tackle.

Before I head out to the station, I check the syllabuses for my classes. While I ditched classes today, I shouldn’t fall behind on my studies. I figure I can get in a couple hours of solid reading and play catch-up.

1:00 a.m.

Bag packed, I head off for the station. Despite the lack of restful sleep and my nerves’ probably forming an ulcer in my stomach, I’m feeling pretty good right now. I have plenty of time before my shift starts at 2 a.m. No rushing tonight. I’m good.

Not even the weather can bring me down, although I can’t believe it’s still snowing. It’s coming down so quickly that the snowplows are already out and about clearing the streets and walkways.

As I am walking, the snow is up to my knees in certain areas and it’s getting difficult to walk. Damn! Why didn’t I wear my boots?

Wrapped up tightly in my coat, I find most of the walk down to the other end of campus uneventful until I hit the bars and restaurants just off campus. It’s there that I see Lance and get a sinking feeling inside. He’s pinker than when I last saw him. And he’s surrounded by other guys who look just as out of it as he is.

As I pass him on the sidewalk, I smell the liquor on his breath and see his eyes are bloodshot. He’s practically oozing alcohol. He stumbles, smiles a drunken smile, and stretches out his arm to grab me, but luckily I’m an inch or two out of his grasp.

“Have you thought about my offer, honey? We would be so good together. Mm hm.”

He turns to his buddy, puts his arm around him, points to me, and says, “See that piece of ass walking away? She wants me.”

He grabs his friend and the two of them run in front of me.

Lance says clumsily, “M’lady, this is my roommate, Stefan. He really likes you too.”

I stop walking. They are blocking the sidewalk. I just stare at them. Lance goes, “Doesn’t she look good?”

“Oh yeah. She’s totally my type,” Stefan says as he steps closer to me.

“Every woman is your type!” Lance fires back, laughing.

“I guess she doesn’t want to play,” Stefan says, “and that makes two of us. I’m beat, dude. I’m goin’ back to the room to crash.”

“Fine, dude. I’m gonna stay and get hammered.”

I take a breath. To get around them, I have to walk in the street. I look both ways as those two are acting like idiots behind me. No cars are on the road since the snow is coming down fast, I cross to get away from them.

Thankfully they don’t follow, but I walk faster anyway.

Who knows what a group of drunk guys is capable of at 1:30 in the morning? I race forward.

Once across the street, I notice complete chaos at a neighboring restaurant. I pick up my pace even more. As I walk by, I see people hitting each other with chairs, punching each other, basically tearing each other apart. I see a guy bite someone. What’s wrong with people? Aren’t people supposed to be more sophisticated, worldly, and open-minded at a university? I guess not. I hear sirens and have a sneaking suspicion that the police will have their hands full tonight.

I finally make it to the radio station’s front entrance, a simple glass door with a metal frame. Most of the building is stucco and in the process of crumbling. A silver gray cloth-like tape is stuck everywhere, keeping the crumbles from falling apart. Frankly it’s amazing that the building is still standing. I guess we have duct tape to thank for that.

My legs are pretty tired from the hike and from sprinting the last few blocks. I enter, run up the stairs, come face-to-face with the alarm panel and security door, and punch in my security code.

The door opens with a loud, irritating buzzer. Once inside, I exhale, knowing that I am secure. No one can get me now.

I walk from the front door to the control room, the nerve center of the radio station, then open the door to where I’ll be spending the next four hours. The air inside the entire radio station is permeated with the old smell of vinyl records, compact discs, and the old album note inserts that keep them safe from scratches. It takes a minute to adjust to this new smell assaulting my nostrils, but then I acclimate, and I hardly notice it anymore.

Looking around the studio, I see walls and walls of music. They’ve songs from all the great musical decades from Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd to INXS and Nirvana. It’s quite a spectacular sight.

Here people like to call the control room Studio One, where the magic happens. It’s where the DJ plays all the tunes. Nothing happens here without the DJ. I’ll be remiss if I don’t at least mention Studio Two, an almost identical control room, but for practice. It’s where I’ve spent the past few weeks honing my skills, learning how to operate all the equipment, and practicing for tonight. While nothing actually broadcasts from Studio Two, in a pinch, it could.

After the smells of old paper and music have finished violating my senses, I’m hit in the face with the smell of stale coffee and old fried food. Those smells aren’t indigenous to the radio station, but to the DJ finishing up his 10 p.m.–2 a.m. shift. While not the greatest smells, they are tolerable, especially since they would dissipate when this DJ leaves.

Once gone, it will be just the music and me. When I think about that, things immediately get simpler. No being responsible. No crazy professor. No douche-bag hockey player and his loser roommate. Just music and a few intermittent commercials for the next four hours. I am in control here.

I don’t know the DJ who is on the air before me, but he seems nice enough. He makes eye contact and smiles at me as he plays his last song of the night—well, morning. It will be my time to shine soon.

2:00 a.m.

He gets off the hot seat, yawns, and, without a word, is gone.

It’s not really a hot seat, just the chair all the DJs use when they’re on the air. Everything that happens at the station happens because of the person sitting on this seat, this dilapidated leather stool.

I pull the next few songs I am going to play and sit down. I like controlling what music airs. I rule here. I play the required prerecorded station identification at the top of the hour and then hit play on my first song. Everything goes to plan. I am happy. The overnight shift is a great way to get used to the whole radio station vibe. The overnighter, that’s me, doesn’t have to speak much. It’s really a chance to learn the ropes, and if you screw anything up, it’s not a big deal.

A few songs into my shift, my phone starts making noises again. I grab it out of my bag.

More text messages from the unknown: No wrong number. Last chance. The lives of everyone depend on you.

What the hell? I think. Who is this crazy person text messaging me? Whoever it is, they’re starting to make me really uncomfortable.

I text back, Who are you?

Last chance.

Last chance for what?

It’s on you.

OK. It’s probably someone screwing with me. Relax. They found someone who responded to their bait text message and now they’re having fun at my expense. I’m not going to play their demented game anymore. I put my phone back in my bag.

Trying to think calming thoughts, focusing on my breathing, and listening to the music, I’m able to loosen up and relax a bit. And as the night goes on, I start to get tired. To perk myself up, I decide to get off the hot seat and stand up so I can stretch my legs. I also think it would be fun to take a chance and speak on air for the very first time. I know I should have been identifying all the songs played for the listeners, but my hands are shaking and so is my voice, so I decide against it. My mentor here, Wyatt, taught me how to do it so I know how. I just need to muster up the nerve to follow through and make it happen.

“You can do it.”

I don’t believe it. I’m still tired and quite nervous.

“You can do it!” I stand up tall in my power pose, arms bent at my elbows and fists at my sides. Yeah! I’m feeling it now!

“Uh... Maybe I’ll wait just a smidgen longer,” I say. The introvert in me is kicking in again.

4:15 a.m.

I haven’t yet uttered my first word. I decide this is my time. The song playing slowly fades out. It’s my moment to shine. I put on the headphones, click the microphone button, and speak.

“Good morning, Scarlet Peak! My name is Jane, and I’ll be taking you through the rest of the wee early morning hours. If you have any song requests, the number is 555-WZOM. I’m waiting for your call. You know what radio station you’re listening to, 97.5 FM WZOM. Scarlet Peak, NY.”

I hit play on the next song I have queued up, click off the microphone, take off the headphones, and hear the listener line ringing already. Wow! That is fast. I smile. Someone is listening to me!

“Hello. You’ve reached the listener line. What song do you —?”

“Hi, Jane. I’ve been listening to you.”

“Who is this?”

“You can’t ignore me, Jane.”

“Ignoring you? Who is this?”

I hang up on him, totally freaked out. Just breathe. Everything is cool. Breathe in and out, in and out. I can feel my heart beating faster.

The listener line rings a second time. My heart jumps again. I pick up the phone.

“Hello?” I say with a catch in my throat.

I anticipate someone on the line talking, but I hear nothing.

“Hello? Hello? Are you requesting a song? I can’t hear you. Maybe it’s our connection. Can you call back? Call back, OK?”

I hang up. That’s odd.

Chapter 2

________________________________________

5:00 a.m.

Despite getting some shuteye last night, my eyelids are getting heavy again. The stress of being at college for the first time, classes not going my way, and not getting enough solid sleep is wearing thin. I’m tired.

I look up at the clock over the news booth diagonally to my left, and it’s approaching 5:30 a.m. The morning crew starts straggling in. I can see them through the Studio One windows and the pane of glass on the front security door.

Buzzzzzzzz.

That front door is sure noisy. There are two news people, a man and a woman. They look familiar, but I don’t know their names. I saw them around the station while I was training, but never was formally introduced to them.

As they walk around the station and through Studio One, I can hear them mumbling to themselves. I catch bits and pieces of their conversation. They’re talking about their commutes into work. People are apparently stumbling about the streets like they’re drunk, which may not have been unusual for a college campus, but it must have been excessive and noteworthy enough for the news people to keep talking about it.

The newswoman disappears into the back. The news guy is still walking around the station. I can see him through the big glass window in front of Studio One. He smiles and waves. I return the smile and wave back, trying to allow a little of the extrovert in me to come out.

Twenty-five minutes have passed. It’s approaching 6:00 a.m., and my replacement hadn’t arrived yet. Where is he? There’s so much involved with the morning show; I’m not sure I know what buttons to push for all the newscasts and commercials, plus I would have to speak more, and I’m pretty beat right now. What would I even say?

The news guy is already in his little news booth getting ready for his first newscast of the morning. No replacement DJ yet. I just smile a nervous smile at him, and he smiles back at me as he puts on his headphones. I didn’t notice earlier when he was walking by me, but now that I see him up close, he’s quite easy on the eyes. His smile is mesmerizing.

Just as my adrenaline starts to pump from the fact that I might totally mess up the morning show, I can see the morning DJ rushing to the front door, punch in his code, and race into Studio One. It’s Wyatt! He’s the guy who taught me the ropes here. I didn’t know he would be relieving me this morning. That’s a pleasant surprise.

He is sprinting so fast, I can still hear the buzz of the door echoing in my ears as he runs into Studio One.

As my last song is playing, he smiles and gives me a quick hello. He hops onto the hot seat, puts his headphones on, plays the station identifier at the top of the hour, and clicks on the microphone for the news guy to start talking.

6:00 a.m.

Instead of leaving, I stand there to watch the morning newscast unfold. I’ve never been here this early in the morning, so I am curious.

The news guy speaks. He introduces himself as Jack. Ah. Yes. I can finally put a name with the voice. He’s the guy I heard yesterday morning on the air.

When Jack has a news clip or a sound bite to play, he points at Wyatt. Wyatt then hits the proper button on the audio board, and a clip of someone saying something plays on the air. I guess I didn’t notice that when the newsies walked through Studio One they left a bunch of recordings numbered from one through six. Every time Jack would point to Wyatt, Wyatt would play another one of those recordings.

I thought Wyatt had been late, but the sports guy is even later. As the recording of the weatherman is coming to a close, I see the sports guy rush the door, run into the news area, and sprint back to Studio One with a paper in his hand. As he busts in, the moment he sits down, Wyatt points at him, and he starts rattling off sports scores from last night.

As he speaks, I inhale the stale stench of cigarettes wafting across the room. As he wraps up his sports monologue, Wyatt goes back to Jack, who teases their 6:30 a.m. newscast coming up soon.

“Don’t miss all the news you can use every half hour on the dot,” Jack says.

“I wouldn’t even consider missing it,” Wyatt says, “Right, Logan?”

“I kinda have to be here.” Logan says “but I have lots more scores to share too.”

“Yeah. I gotta know how my teams did last night,” Wyatt says. “Well, there you have it, Scarlet Peak. Keep it tuned to 97.5 so you never miss a beat.”

As soon as the news is officially over, Wyatt gives everyone a cheery, “Good morning!” greeting, starts playing music, and turns off his microphone.

Once the song is playing, he takes off his headphones, turns to me, and asks, “How was your first night?”

“Pretty good, I think.”

“That’s good. That’s good. What does ‘pretty good’ mean exactly?” He smiles at me. “Did you have any dead air?”

“No. No dead air.”

“That’s great. I remember my first night on air. I forgot to queue up a song and had about thirty seconds of dead air, which felt like thirty minutes of nothing. I think my heart almost popped out of my chest. It’s pretty stressful, to say the least. Did you have any problems at all?”

“Everything went OK. I even spoke once. You know, inviting people to call in with what they want to hear. The listener line rang, and it might have been a crank call, but other than that everything was good.”

“Look at you! That’s awesome. You should be so proud of yourself. We should really teach you how to handle the newscasts so you can take an earlier shift. The overnight is killer. You don’t want to keep doing them.”

“Sure,” I say, beaming with confidence. “I’m up for it. I actually enjoyed being on the air, after the initial scariness went away, that is.”

“The nervousness, scariness, whatever you call it is completely normal. What? You think I didn’t shit my pants the first time I was on the air?”

“That’s good to hear. The nervousness, not the shitting your pants stuff.” I smile.

“Ha-ha. No offense taken. It’s too early for that, frankly, but that’s wonderful everything was cool. You know, with a little more training, you could totally do this morning newscast, no problem. I know it seems complicated with so many things happening and it’s a bit longer, but it’s far better than the overnight, and I think you can totally handle it.”

“OK. It’s a date. I’ll schedule some time on your calendar so we can practice. Oh! Hey. I want to ask you. Did you see anything weird on the way in this morning?”

“Anything specific? Most mornings are weird around here. You’ve get a bunch of crazy, horny, drunk college students who have no rules or curfews,” he says.

“No. Nothing special I guess. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna rest my eyes. I’ll see you in a little.”

Maybe I’m just over-reacting. The events of the past day have put me a bit more on edge than I normally am. I go into the lounge area to take a nap before my classes starts at 8 a.m. It would only take me fifteen minutes to get to class, so I have some time to relax and recharge before venturing out again.

I leave Studio One and open the warped wooden door to the lounge. It’s a poor excuse for a lounge. The leather couch is old and quite worn. You can tell the most highly trafficked sections of carpet because they are frayed and you can see the floor underneath. All of the other furniture around the room is distressed wooden chairs and such.

Despite the lack of appeal, I lie down on the leather couch and put my head down on the pillow. Just then my phone starts buzzing again. I ignore it. Despite being exhausted, I can’t sleep. Instead, I listen to the music being piped through the station, close my eyes, and can tell it’s 6:30 a.m. because the next newscast is starting.

Jack is on the air again, and his top story is about a strange contagion that seems to be spreading through the area.

“Officials can’t say much, but they have asked that everyone stay inside. Professors stay home. Students stay in your dorms. Stay inside for your safety until university officials can determine exactly what’s happening and the best course of action moving forward.”

And then he adds the usual plug: “Stay tuned every half-hour for all the news you can use on 97.5FM.”

That is a weird newscast, but it confirms my suspicions that something is up. Immediately I pull out my phone and see the text message that I ignored minutes ago. All it says is, It has begun.

I check the number, and it’s the same as before. Whoever this creepy person is, he isn’t stopping, and his texts are beginning to freak me out. What has begun, exactly?

Whatever. Trying to keep calm, I call my parents.

“Hello,” my mom answers, sounding tired.

“Hi, Mom. Is everything OK?”

“Yes, I think so. What’s wrong? Are you OK? What time is it?”

“It’s about 6:30 in the morning. I know it’s early. I’m OK. I’m just checking in to see if you’re OK.”

“I guess your father and I should get up and start our day. Thanks for the wakeup call. We’ll call you a little later. Have a good day, OK?”

“Will do, Mom. Bye.”

I don’t want to worry her if there isn’t anything to worry her about. It’s just a newscast teasing of something happening in the area. It doesn’t mean anything serious is happening. I might be paranoid, and the news report could just be something to get people to tune in. The school doesn’t own the radio station anymore, so it needs to make money or it will close. It makes more money if we have more listeners, and this way is a good one to get people to tune in. Nevertheless, I think I should be a little more outgoing, formally introduce myself to Jack, and ask him what he thinks is happening. He is also quite handsome, so that gives me more incentive to talk to him.

I get up off the couch and walk over to the newsroom. As I look around the news nerve center, I feel like time and technology have left us in the past. We’re still using those huge, old printers that sound like airplanes landing.

OK, here I go. Chill out and be cool. I walk over to Jack and say, “Hi. My name is Jane. I’m the DJ who was on the overnight last night. You waved at me.”

“Nice to meet you, Jane. Yes. Yes. We saw you as we were getting ready for the 6 a.m. broadcast. Sorry we didn’t say hello. We were just really focused on getting ready. My name is Jack. That’s Nora over there.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jack. I want to ask, can you tell me more about this contagion thing you mentioned on air? Do you have any more information? It’s kind of freaking me out, to be honest.”

“I don’t know much about it, but since the news came over the wire, I feel like on my way into work people were acting weird. Stranger than normal. Stumbling around drunk-like. I know this is a college campus and all, but it’s odd behavior for 5:30 in the morning, ya know? Most would be sleeping it off by now. I can’t put my finger on it. This morning just seemed different to me. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

“I got a weird phone call last night on the listener line. The phone rang. I picked it up and nothing. No one spoke, or maybe it was just a bad connection. I asked them to call back. They didn’t, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

“OK. So nothing crazy to worry about yet.” He put his hands on my shoulders to comfort me and let me know that everything is gonna be all right. I don’t know if it’s the smell of his cologne that is intoxicating or his confidence that we would be OK, but it’s the first interaction in the past day that made me feel warm and safe. I smile at him, and he smiles back at me.

“Thanks for the info, but I might stay here a little longer until we get more information. You did say to stay indoors, so I don’t think I’m gonna go to class this morning—at least, not yet.”

“It’s just a formality, really. Having thousands of faculty and students on campus would just create more of a problem. That is, if we have a problem, and we don’t know if there’s a problem yet. I’m hoping my warning will at least cut down on those going to campus. The challenge is that sometimes students don’t know what to do about classes. Some might go anyway because they think their professors are hard-asses and wouldn’t understand if they didn’t show up. Others just aren’t paying attention to anything and will show up regardless. Anyway, I’m rambling. You’re welcome to hang out here for as long as you’d like.”

Just then, the front door buzzes loudly, and three salespeople come rushing through the door. One of them is bleeding.

Chapter 3

________________________________________

7:00 a.m.

“That’s Jayce!” Jack shouts.

“Oh shit! What happened?” I ask as Jack and I run over to where Jayce is bleeding all over the floor. I’m not sure my nerves can take this.

He is holding the wound on his arm, his blood coming off his elbow and onto the floor in a steady stream. With all his blood loss, I imagine he must be a little lightheaded, and that’s why he falls to the floor. Looking up, he points at his arm.

“Some crazy person attacked me. He bit me! See?” he demands as he puts his arm on display for everybody. “And then I fell down and a crowd, a mob, started to close in on me. I’m lucky I was close to the station. Connor and Abigail were there to help me to my feet and get me here.”

“Who did this?” I ask.

“Call an ambulance,” Jack tells me.

Where did I leave my bag? I don’t have time to run around and find it so I run to the phone in the main office and dial.

“911. What is your emergency?”

“We need an ambulance and the police at WZOM FM, the radio station right outside Scarlet Peak University. We’re at 111 South Lombard Street in Scarlet Peak. One of the guys here just came into the station. He was attacked, and he’s bleeding a lot.”

“Is the attacker still there?”

“Maybe. They might be outside the building. We don’t know.”

“We’ll send out a squad car and an ambulance now. In the meantime, if you have any alcohol, pour it on the wound. Then wrap it tight with cloth or a bandage until the ambulance arrives. OK?”

“OK. We’ll do our best. Please hurry.”

“Would you like me to hang on the line until help arrives?”

“I would, but I have to get back and do what I can to help.”

I hang up and run back to the group.

“They’re sending the police and an ambulance now,” I tell them. “Do we have any alcohol or bandages to wrap up his arm?”

“There might be alcohol in the janitor’s closet or the production room,” Jack says. “Sometimes they use it to clean equipment. The closet is down this hallway, which makes a left before you get to the newsroom. You should run right into it. As for bandages, you can check the first aid kit in the newsroom, but we haven’t refilled that in years. We might not have anything. If we don’t, you could take one of our T-shirts and use that instead. Soak it in the alcohol first, though, so it’s sterilized.”

“OK. I’ll start looking.”

“Hold pressure on his wound,” Jack tells Abigail.

Jack looks at the clock.

“It’s approaching 7:00 a.m. I have to get back on the air.”

“What are you gonna say?” I ask.

“I have no idea.”

He runs back to the newsroom to check the local AP and leaves me with the three salespeople. I don’t know what to say except to repeat that help would be arriving soon.

Realizing there is nothing for me to do here, I take off around the radio station to try to find supplies. As I’m running around, I can hear everything that is happening on-air because the feed is still being piped into the speakers around the station. Jack is talking.

“Authorizes won’t comment about specifics but insist that everyone must remain indoors for their own safety. Your power may go in and out. Don’t worry if it goes out. It’ll come back on. Do not go outside for any reason. Make sure your doors and windows are locked and secure.”

As I am in the janitor’s closet looking for supplies, I find some alcohol. I turn around to check out the first aid kit and run smack into an older man I don’t know who clearly works at the station. He almost knocks me over.

“Whoa! In a hurry?” he says as he grabs my hand to help me regain my footing.

“Yeah, we have some problems. Someone’s hurt, and I’m looking for alcohol to treat his wounds,” I say as I hold up the bottle I found.

“Someone’s hurt? Wounds? I’ve been in the back. I didn’t realize what’s going on. My name is Bill. I’m the engineer here. I’m the one who keeps this station standing and on the air.”

“Nice to meet you, Bill. My name is Jane. I’m one of the new DJs. I was doing the overnight last night.”

“I remember when I worked the overnights. That was a long time ago. Sorry. Is there anything else you need?” he asks.

“Yeah, I need to find something to wrap his wound. Jack says there might be bandages in the first aid kit.”

“Nah. Jack’s a good guy, but we haven’t filled that thing in years. I don’t even know why we keep it there, except for compliance purposes. They never check inside, though.”

“Hm. Well, are there extra T-shirts somewhere around here?”

“Yes. I think so. Let’s go to the prize vault, and I can get ’em for you.”

“Prize vault?” I ask.

“Yeah, just a drawer in the production room where we keep giveaways reserved for listeners. The name is much more exciting than it really is. Sounds good on air too.”

As Bill and I are looking for the T-shirts, we hear the weather and sports. I guess Jack, Logan, and Wyatt are trying to keep some semblance of normalcy despite the warnings and what’s happening at the station.

After Jack’s newscast, Wyatt starts up the music again. Things are tense so he starts playing some mellow Dave Matthews Band and Chicago.

After finding the bottle of alcohol and a bunch of our T-shirts, Bill and I return to the threesome just inside the front door. Jack pops out of his news booth and rushes over.

“How are we doing over here?” he asks.

“Bill and I found the alcohol and T-shirts,” I say.

“That’s good.”

The lights flicker.

“What is that?” I ask.

“That happens when we’re having more extreme weather like today. Happens all the time. Don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about,” Jack replies.

Kind of freaking out, I ask, “Nothing to worry about? What about us?”

“What about us?”

“We have an injured person here who needs help. When will they get here? It’s been, like, fifteen minutes at least. He needs help now. Plus what happens if the power goes out here? We need to stay on the air. We need heat, or else we’re gonna freeze in here. And the front door? If those crazy people are outside, we’ll have no protection if the power is off. This door would be useless. Anyone would be able to open it.”

“Just relax. Relax. We can only handle one thing at a time. You called 911. They’ll be here soon. Just chill. We still don’t know what’s happening yet, and we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We need you to keep a level head, OK?”

“OK. I’m fine, but it looks like Jayce’s losing a lot of blood, and he’s gonna get cold. That’s not good. Maybe we should move him to the lounge where he can lie flat, and we can cover him with blankets to keep him warm?”

“Good idea. If we all pitch in, we can lift him down the hall and onto the couch. First, we should sanitize his wound and wrap it up.”

Jack and I help the sales guy take off his shirt. I touch his skin. It’s cold—not just cold from being out in the snow for a while, but really cold. Once his shirt is off, we see the bite mark. It’s deep, jagged, and reddish brown with dried blood. It’s like an animal took a bite out of him. Very gruesome.

I stifle my gag reflex and move my focus to the periphery of the injury. The two other salespeople just stand there. They may be in shock from their experiences earlier and what happened to Jayce. It’s hard to believe a person did this to him.

Jack pours some of the alcohol on the wound as Jayce winces in pain. Then Bill wraps it tightly with one of the T-shirts. I just can’t. Blood is so not my thing.

“Ready to relax in the lounge?” I say to Jayce.

“Sure thing. Thank you, whoever you are.”

“Jane. My name is Jane.”

“Well, thank you, Jane. My name is Jayce. This is Abigail and Connor.”

“Nice to meet all of you. Everything is gonna be OK,” I say.

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” Jayce says.

We all do our best to help Jayce to his feet so we can get him to the couch. I’m helping to drag him into the lounge when his fingertips touch my skin. He’s getting colder. His fingers are like icicles and turning a sick purple-blue.

After laying him on the couch and trying to warm him with a blanket, I notice the air inside the radio station is getting colder. It’s so cold that I can see my breath when I speak.

“I’m gonna turn up the heat. Feel his face. He’s so pale. He’s freezing.”

I walk over to the wall thermostat to turn up the heat when the power goes out. I don’t move. The entire station goes dark except for the daylight shining through the windows in streaks from the outside. Everything goes silent.

“Is this normal?” I ask, trying not to lose it.

Wyatt barges into the lounge.

“We’re off the air.”

“We know,” Jack says.

“And we’re getting some weird phone calls. Most are saying they see people stumbling around their dorms and banging into things. And they look dead or bloody and out of their minds,” Wyatt says.

We all look at him, perplexed.

“What are you talking about?” Jack says.

“Yeah. It freaked me out too. One girl said that someone tried to bite her, like a zombie.”

We all look at Jayce. Someone bit him. I wonder if it’s the same person who tried to bite this other girl who called in.

“Like a zombie?” I say lightly. “Don’t be silly. That stuff only happens in movies. This is real life.”

“Someone tried to bite her? Where’s this girl? Who tried to bite her?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know,” Wyatt says. “The line got disconnected before I had a chance to ask.”

Just then the lights and electricity come back on with a mechanical thud.

“Wha-what is that?” I ask. I can feel a little heat on my head too.

“It’s the backup generator,” Bill says. “The power is still off, but the generator should keep us warm and functional for a while.”

“Wyatt, get back on the air and play some music,” Jack says. “Maybe between songs ask people to keep calling in and reporting anything that seems strange, OK?”

“Sounds good. Will do,” Wyatt replies as he hurries back into Studio One.

I ask Bill, “So how long will the generator last? You said for a while, but I don’t know what that means. A couple hours, days, weeks?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that winters here are pretty harsh, so generators are installed in virtually every building as a precaution.”

Jack stands up from the couch where he is looking over Jayce and walks over to me. Without saying a word, he puts one hand on my shoulder. Feeling his touch, I cover his hand with mine. It’s warm, and it’s a nice feeling to have him looking after me. I look up at him, and he smiles. He looks cool and collected, like none of this fazes him. Maybe everything will be OK after all?

As I am trying to remain positive, an abhorrent odor accosts me, “What’s that smell?” I ask.

Just then Jayce starts to freak out on the couch. He’s moaning. Crying. His body is flailing and contorting in a variety of odd positions worse than any seizure. It can’t be comfortable for him.

Frightened, we all look at him. We don’t know what to do, except stare.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone go this nuts from a bite unless they had rabies or something, but don’t ask me. My medical knowledge is limited to what they show you on TV.”

Despite the heat and the blanket, he isn’t getting any better. Abigail stoops down and tries to talk to him.

“Jayce, hon, try to relax, OK?”

He isn’t even looking in her direction or ours.

“Jayce, can you hear me?” she asks.

He doesn’t respond.

She looks down for a moment and then at us. “He still feels really cold. Aw, man. This can’t be good. Plus, look at his eyes. They’ve got a white haze over them. I think we need to get him to the hospital, like, right now.”

“I agree,” I say. “We need a doctor, but this doesn’t feel right. We need to do something, but if the people who did this are still out there waiting for us, we’d all be at risk if we go outside.” I think for a moment. “The police and ambulance should have been here by now. Are they even coming?” I ask, feeling my stress level rising and my anxiousness returning in full force.

With that, Jayce makes more strange noises, weird, high-pitched, shrieking ones I’ve never heard a human being make before. I can’t stay in here listening to him anymore. Just as I turn to leave the lounge and return to Studio One and Wyatt, Jayce jerks his head forward and bites Abigail’s forearm. She cries out in pain and screams. Stunned and in shock, she kneels there, dazed. It happened so fast. I turn around.

“Ow! What the hell is that? He bit me!” she says.

I look at Jack. He looks back at me, and we both look at Bill. We all had the same expression. Get out. Now.

Abigail and Connor quickly follow us out as we run to the door. We lock it behind us right before Jayce—or whoever he is now—runs right into the door with a hard thud. He almost knocks the door off its hinges.

Connor stays at the door to hold it secure while we search for something to block it. Abigail just stands there holding her arm, crying.

She is hysterical. “Why’d he bite me? I was only helping him! What's gonna happen? What am I gonna do?”

Jack, Bill, and I run to grab something, anything to block the door. We find a chair, run back, and barricade it.

Even with the chair blocking the way, the door and its hinges shudder every time the body on the other side bangs against it. That plus the horrific sounds he is making are frightening and freaking me out.

We all look at each other. He doesn’t seem to be getting tired or stopping his attack. What’s going to happen when he breaks through the flimsy wooden door?

Chapter 4

________________________________________

8:00 a.m.

Momentarily safe outside of the lounge, I feel my mind racing. He’s not listening to us. The police aren’t here. If we do nothing, he’ll eventually break down the door.

We hear him batter himself against the door again. The door to the lounge begins to crack.

“We can’t let him break down the door. We just can’t.” I put my hands on my knees. It was a long night, and it’s turning out to be the most stressful morning of my life. I am exhausted.

“What do we do?” Connor asks.

Just then, the sports guy I saw earlier on the newscast, Logan, and the newswoman Jack pointed out earlier, Nora, appear in the corner of my eye. They rush over.

“What’s going on over here?” Logan looks at Jack. “You missed your 7:30 a.m. newscast. Nora had to fill in for you last minute. Should she do the same for your eight o’clock?”

“Yes,” Jack says. “Things aren’t going well. Didn’t Wyatt tell you? We’re having a problem with Jayce. He’s not himself today, it seems. Looks like Jayce might have whatever sickness I mentioned on the air.”

“What? Oh shit. Yeah, he told us Jayce is sick and the girl on the listener line mentioned zombies, but I didn’t think it’s this bad, and I actually thought she was joking,” Logan says.

“It doesn’t look like she was joking, and yeah, it’s bad,” Jack replies.

“And if we don’t do something, he’s gonna crash right through that door, and that won’t be good for any of us,” Bill adds.

Jayce thrashes against the door even more violently. The concussive impact makes the door slightly buckle and startles everyone, and we all jump at the sound. I pray that the door holds.

“He already bit Abigail,” Jack says as he looks at her. She is still holding her arm close. “Any thoughts on how to stop him?”

“We could tie him up,” Bill says. “We have rope in the back room.”

“Tie him up? We could try, but I’m not sure anything will hold him. Plus, I’m not sure I want to keep looking over my back every second scared that he’s going to wiggle out of the rope and jump us,” Jack says.

Logan, still shocked from the past few minutes, finally blurts out a radical alternative, “What about killing him? He won’t be able to hurt anyone else then.”

“We can’t kill him,” Jack says. “He didn’t do anything to warrant this. He’s got some sort of sickness. We have to help him if we can, but still keep us safe.”

Nora finally speaks up, quietly, “I don’t think we can help him. From the news reports that keep coming out, I don’t think anyone can help him.”

“But,” Abigail mutters.

“But nothing. I get that he didn’t deserve this, but neither do we. And if he gets out, the same thing is gonna happen to us,” Logan says.

“Are we really considering this? He’s a person, remember that? We can’t just kill another person. That’s murder, and it’s against the law. There has to be another way,” Jack says.

“We have to consider the fact that he might not be a person anymore. If this zombie talk is true, he’s not a person, and it’s not murder. It’s self-defense,” Logan says.

“We can’t place judgment on people based on rumors. Killing him is out of the question and just crazy. You’re talking crazy,” Jack says.

“Crazy? Crazy? No way. Crazy is letting him out to do to us what he did to Abigail!” Logan shouts.

For a minute, there is silence.

We all look at her. She looks at her arm and starts to cry again. It becomes clear to everyone what is at stake.

“OK, I get it,” Jack says. “If we don’t kill him, he may eventually break through the door and kill us all. If we kill him first, then at least we have a fighting chance. This affects us all so I can’t make the decision alone. Why don’t we vote on it? No judgment here. Just vote your conscience.”

Jack gathers the ballots. The six of us vote to kill him with only Abigail voting against, though any of us would have done the same in her position.

“What if we can help him? And what about me? Are you gonna kill me too?” Abigail asks us.

“If you stay normal and don’t go all zombie-crazy, you’ll be fine. The moment you start acting strange and dangerous, I don’t know...” Logan trails off.

Jack shoots him one of those cut it out looks.

Abigail stares ahead and starts crying again.

Jack says, “Bill, there must be something here that we can use as weapons. Big pieces of metal. Anything with a point. We’re gonna need some way of protecting ourselves when we try to subdue Jayce.”

Bill stands there watching Abigail. From the frown on his face, he seems genuinely upset. I am too. How are we going to do this?

“Bill. Snap out of it,” Jack says. “You gotta find something we can use. We don’t have much time.”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Bill says as he runs off.

Jack turns to Abigail and gives her a hug.

“I thought you might need it,” he says.

“Thanks. I do,” she replies. “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“Nothing is certain right now. Don’t think like that,” Jack says.

She doesn’t say anything back.

“What do you think we should do?” Jack asks as he holds her hands in his.

“I think you should let me in there so I can try to talk with him. Reason with him. Maybe I can get through to him one-on-one. We are... we’re friends. He’s got to remember that, right?”

“If we let you in there, he could kill you.”

“Yeah. He could, but it’s still Jayce in there. The least you could do is let me try. He’s my friend. Maybe I can get him to settle down until help arrives.”

A few minutes later, Bill comes back with all sorts of old radio station equipment, supplies, and junk we can use to protect ourselves: a few longish metal desk legs that were unscrewed years ago, a couple bulky long, pointy antennas, and a big cast-iron pan.

“This is all I can find that might be useful,” he says. “Pick one and make it work. If you’d like to use the antenna as a weapon though, we’ll have to cut it down. I also grabbed my bolt cutters so we can chop it up. That way they’re not so unwieldy. I haven’t used it in years, not since I locked my bike up and couldn’t remember the combo.”

Bill starts to cut the antennas apart with his bolt cutters. The metal-on-metal noise irritates my ears. When he is done cutting, those antennas almost resemble fencing swords, although the sides aren’t as sharp.

“So let me get this straight. You know how to keep a radio station running, but you forget the combination to your bike lock? You’re one strange guy, Bill,” I say.

While Bill is doing his thing, I pick up the cast-iron pan. It’s heavy. Very heavy. It reminds me of something my mother used to cook bacon in. No bacon today.

“Where did you get the pan?”

“It was in the storage room. Not sure how long it’s been there. There’s tons of old stuff laying around here if you’re looking for it.”

Abigail is staring at me waving around the pan. She asks, “What are you gonna do? Smack him on the head with that pan? You can barely lift it; it’s so heavy.”

I don’t have an answer. I don’t know what I am going to do.

She says, “This is a horrible, horrible plan. You’re forming your own mob. You’re no better than those things out there.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Logan blurts out. “You—”

“Chill out, Logan,” Jacks says. “Abigail, see what you can do.”

Jack is about to move the chair blocking the door when I have a thought. “Wait! Don’t move. Bill, do we have any duct tape around here?”

“Duct tape? Sure. Well, I think so. It’d probably be in the supply closet,” Bill says.

Bill leads the way as we both run over to it. As we open the door, the old stale air hits me smack in the face.

Looking around, all I can see is radio equipment from the Stone Age.

“Where’s the duct tape?”

“Let’s look. Why do you want duct tape anyway?” he asks.

“To tape up our arms and legs. If these things come for us or if Jayce breaks down the door, taping up our arms and legs will give us a little additional protection. Duct tape is so difficult to tear, not even teeth can go through it,” I say.

He gives me an odd look.

“You know firsthand just how versatile duct tape is. It’s practically why this building is still standing.” I chuckle. “It’s everywhere.”

“But you’re gonna put it on your body?”

“My father does a lot of DIY projects at home. He always uses duct tape. Said it’s as strong as steel. I think it’ll be helpful in case they bite us. Every little bit helps, right?”

Sorting through the supply closet, we find a host of office supplies. Pens. Pencils. Notepads. Found it! Duct tape. A six-roll pack.

“Bingo!” I shout.

Bill and I return to the group, duct tape in hand. I break open the package and hand one roll to each person.

“What are these for?” Jack asks.

“Use it to tape up your arms and legs. If someone tries to bite you, it might help prevent what’s happening to Jayce in there.”

I take out my roll of duct tape and hook the first section to my wrist. From there, I just roll the tape around my arm until I get to right below my elbow. About an inch from my elbow, I stop so that I can still have full mobility.

Everyone else follows suit, except for Abigail. She gives me her roll.

“I don’t think I’m gonna need this.” She points to her arm. “I’ll be fine without it.”

“Good luck in there,” I say to her.

“Thanks. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

Jack removes the chair blocking the door. Connor keeps his back to the door to ensure we don’t have any surprises.

Jack faces Abigail. “On the count of three, we’ll open the door. You have two minutes to talk him down. After that, we’ll come in and handle him ourselves. Get it?”

“Got it.”

“1... 2... 3!”

Connor moves aside. Jack opens the door. Phew! That smell again. It’s more a putrid stench now. Abigail hurries inside. He slams the door shut behind her. My cell phone buzzes again.

Chapter 5

________________________________________

10:00 a.m.

Jack quickly replaces the chair in front of the door.

I pull out my phone. “Jesus Christ! Not again!” I blurt out.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks as he walks over to me.

“I’ve been getting these weird text messages. I don’t know who’s sending them, and it’s spooking me, a lot.”

“What’s the message say?”

I read the text to everyone, Are you feeling guilty?

“Let me see that,” he says.

I hand my phone to Jack, and he scrolls through all of the messages I’ve received. After reading through them, Jack has a disturbed look on his face.

“What?” I say.

“You might not know who this person is, but it seems like this person knows who you are. They keep texting you even though you responded once asking for them to ID themselves,” Jack says.

“Uh. You think I do know them then?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s either that or just some crazy person. And I wonder if this person has anything to do with what’s happening here on campus.”

“How did you jump to that conclusion?”

“I guess it’s just the journalist in me. Or the conspiracy theorist.”

From the hallway, all we hear is a scuffle on the other side of the door. Then a thud.

“Did we say two minutes? These are the longest two minutes of my life. I hope she’s OK in there,” I say.

“She’s not OK, and she’s not gonna be OK. That’s why we let her go back in there in the first place,” Jack tells me.

“If she’s turning into what he is now, maybe she can connect with him. Maybe she can calm him down at least for a little while,” Bill says.

There’s a loud bang at the door. The bang is so powerful, the chair jumps. So do I and everyone else.

“I don’t think we can wait anymore. Her two minutes are up,” Jack says.

“So what’s the plan now?” Logan asks.

“We grab weapons, open the door, and see what’s happening,” Jack says.

“If Jayce is still acting crazy, we gotta put him down. If we don’t take him out, he’s gonna take all of us out,” Logan says.

“Don’t let him bite you. If you need help or if you’re in trouble, scream for it, OK?” Jack says to everyone, looking at me.

“OK,” I say.

Everyone grabs his or her weapon. Jack takes the heavy pan. I grab one of the metal desk legs. I figure it’s lighter than the pan so I can lift it. It’s also heavy enough to knock someone down.

As I hold the makeshift weapon in my hands, I start to sweat. What am I doing? I’m about to try to kill someone. Yesterday I was in chemistry class. Today I’m going to bash someone’s skull in with this big hunk of metal. All these thoughts are running through my head as I see Jack approach the door.

“Is everyone ready?” he asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Bill replies.

“Uh huh,” I say.

Connor and Logan nod, but Nora steps back, away from the door.

Jack moves the chair blocking the door again, turns the doorknob, and flings the door open. We race inside to see Abigail on the floor with Jayce biting at her arm again, a pool of blood gathering underneath. So much for her theory that he wouldn’t hurt his own kind.

As soon as we enter and see what’s happening, Jayce stops gnawing on her and turns around, his mouth red with her blood. His dead, predatory eyes are like no others I’ve seen before. He looks like an animal, and we are interrupting mealtime.

He lunges at me. I’m paralyzed by fear and don’t move. Jack uses the iron pan and hits Jayce on the head. Down he goes.

Connor runs over to help Abigail.

“What happened? Why didn’t you try to hit him?” Jack asks me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just froze. I can’t move.”

“You can’t freeze up like that. You gotta keep moving. OK?” He tells me.

Just then, Jayce gets back up and bites Jack in the arm.

“No!” I scream. In response, both Bill and Logan charge and stab him with a couple of the newly fashioned antenna weapons. They don’t stop until the antennas go right through Jayce, pinning him to the wall. Jayce isn’t dead, but it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere anytime soon.

“Thanks,” Jack says to Logan.

“Are you OK? He bit you, didn’t he?” I ask.

“Yes, he did. But the duct tape saved the day.” Jack points to the teeth marks in the tape on his arm.

“I’m totally fine. See? No need to worry.”

I look at the marks and then look at Jack.

“That’s a good idea you had,” he says.

I smile. He smiles too.

Now that Jayce is incapacitated, we look over at Abigail, who is crying and frightened and lying on the dirty floor. Connor is supporting her so she can sit up.

“I guess I’m gonna turn into him soon. Into a zombie. You might as well kill me too. I don’t want to turn into one of them.” She closes her eyes, as if she is waiting for someone to take her out right there.

“No need to go down that path just yet,” Jack says. “Right, Logan?”

Logan nods.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Jack says. “I’m thinking that we could just tie you down and keep an eye on you. You may turn. You may not. You seem just fine right now, except for being shaken up a bit.”

“Are you sure about that decision, Jack? Look at her arm. She’s been compromised just like Jayce,” Bill says.

“Yeah, what he says,” Logan concurs.

“We had no choice with him. He was too far gone. Abigail is fine, considering everything that’s happened. Look at her. We can’t just start killing people indiscriminately because we think something is gonna happen.” Jack tosses the tape to Connor. “Tie her up. Watch both of them.”

I watch Connor tape Abigail to the chair. She is still crying. Seeing Jayce pinned to the wall like that probably didn’t help matters. After she’s secured, he tends to her wounds with alcohol and wraps them with one of the T-shirts.

Logan leaves us to do his segment on the news with Nora and Wyatt. I guess he’s trying to distract himself from what’s going on. They’re trying to keep everything light, but the warnings from the local AP are growing dire with bus crashes, power outages, and crazy people running around on the streets.

No one in the media or on the air has officially uttered the word “zombie.” Instead they refer to them as infected, sick, or disturbed individuals. Whatever they’re called, things are getting out of control. The police and the hospitals can’t handle it all. If they could, we would have received help by now. My guess is that they are about to be overrun, at least according to the news Wyatt is getting from people on the street.

After listening to a portion of the newscast, Jack, Bill, and I huddle to figure out our next move.

“What are we gonna do now?” I ask, scared.

“No clue,” Bill admits.

“Well, we either hole up here and wait for help or we make a break for it and try to find help on our own. Simple, right?” Jack replies.

“Yeah, simple.” Bill chuckles. “Staying here has its pros and cons. One of the pros is that the station is on the second floor. We’re off the ground, so those zombies might just pass us over. Plus the generator is working so we’ll be able to keep warm.”

“I’m not sure staying in one place is the best thing for us to do,” Jack says. “If the police are overwhelmed, it might be a really long time until somebody comes to rescue us. We called them how long ago? Plus, this place is a dump. Jack peels a part of the wall off and it crumbles in his hands. “I’m not sure how long we could make it here, even with the generator.”

“Hey. Stop picking at the building. It’s hard enough to keep this place standing.” Bill winces.

“See?” Jack says to me. “Bill totally proved my point. I think we should plan to leave. But if we do that, where should we go? It’s snowing outside, and the weather is only gonna get worse. It’s already freezing outside, and those snowflakes are huge. If we’re leaving the station, I think we have to get off campus, see what’s actually happening in the real world, and find help.”

“And how are we gonna do that?” Bill asks.

“Do you have a car?” Jack asks back.

“No. With the weather so bad and the snowfall up here, I don’t have a car. I prefer my mountain bike to get around. It doesn’t need gas, and since it has some serious treads on it, typically I can get through the snow with minimal problems. At least, that’s been my experience. What’s a car gonna do for us anyway if it’s stuck in the snow? No car. Freezing temps outside. Zombies running around the streets. Count me out.”

“I’m not sure a bike will give us the cover we’ll need, but don’t give up on us. We need you,” Jack says.

“I’m not giving up,” Bill says. “I’m being realistic about what’s going on here.”

We all pause to think about our options.

“I know where we might find a car,” I say. “And not just a car, but an all-weather, all-terrain vehicle to boot.”

“Yes, keep talking,” Jack says.

“My professor has this huge 4x4 vehicle that we could use. He always comes to class no matter what. He’s one of those people you mentioned to me earlier. They go to class no matter what else is happening.”

“Where’s your professor?”

“Near North Campus.”

“North Campus? That’s quite a hike.”

“Yeah, but I made the trek from there down here just last night. If I can do it, it’s definitely doable.”

Moments later, we hear noises coming from the lounge. Connor comes bolting out, a look of sheer terror on his face.

“She’s making those horrible sounds,” he says. “What should we do?”

“Put tape over her mouth,” Jack says. “We can’t afford to make noise.”

“OK. OK. I’m on it,” Connor says as he turns back to the lounge area.

“Once you’ve done that, come back so we can figure out our next steps,” Jack says.

Once Connor is gone we hear a new noise: loud banging and thumping coming from the back of the radio station near the newsroom.

“Where is that noise coming from?” I ask.

“It might be the back door,” Bill says.

“The back door? I didn’t even know this place had a back door,” Jack says.

“I hear ya. Most people don’t use it,” Bill says.

“Aren’t we on the second floor?” Jack says.

“Yeah. Technically, we’re on the second floor, but this building is a bit odd in design since it’s built on a hill. The back door is on ground level, while the front of the building is actually on the second floor,” Bill explains.

“What?”

“Strange. I know.”

“Well, that’s not good. This place might be safer than others, but from the banging on the back door, it’s certainly far from what I would call safe,” Jack says.

We run across the station to see what’s going on. As we sprint, we see the newscast ending. Logan and Nora take off their headphones and quickly run up to join us.

Staring at the back door, my mind is racing. “What can we use to barricade the door?”

“How about the desk over there?” Jack points.

“Those things are so old and solid metal. It’s gonna be heavy,” Bill says.

“The heavier the better. We’re using it to block the door from whatever is trying to get inside,” Jack says.

Everyone goes over to the desk, and we do our best to push and pull the desk over to the back door. Carpet has worn away in some places, making moving the desk more difficult.

All the pushing is making my hands red and raw. By the time we push the desk into position in front of the door, my hands are aching.

Immediately we know that one desk isn’t going to be enough. The whole upper half of the door is still exposed. The constant banging is starting to compromise the integrity of the door. We can hear the wood on the door starting to crack.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. They’re gonna break down the door,” Nora says.

“No. We’re gonna be fine,” Jack says. “Just stay cool, all right? We just need another desk on top. Let’s grab the one next to it. We’re gonna have to lift this one onto the top of the other to block the rest of the door.”

“Are you serious? Those desks are heavy just to push around. Lifting it is gonna be near impossible,” she says.

Connor runs over to help.

“For one person, maybe. But we’re six people. We can do it. Right?” our muscular sports guy says.

Everyone nods. We run over to the second desk and start pushing it over to the back door. After a lot of huffing and puffing, the two desks are adjacent to one another.

“We have to lift it now,” Jack says.

Each of us moves to a different point around the desk. That’s the only way we can possibly get a good grip on it and have a shot at lifting it.

“On my mark, we’ll all lift it and slide it on top of the other one, OK?” Jack says. “OK?”

We nod.

“Ready? Lift!”

For a moment, it seems as if the grunting inside the radio station is louder than the grunting by those things outside.

I’m by the back of the desk so I have to climb on top of the first desk in order to help pull the second desk closer to the door and line it up properly. All this time my back is facing the door. With the two desks almost stacked upon one another, I’m about to get off the desk on the other side when an arm punches through the wooden door.

“Ah! Get it off me!” I scream. The hand has a tight grip on a pretty large tuft of my hair. I can’t move.

Chapter 6

________________________________________

12:00 p.m.

Struggling against the hand is impossible. None of my efforts pay off, and I am being pulled closer to the door. Logan and Bill grab my arms.

“Hold on. We’ve get you!” Bill says.

That’s when I see Jack run away and come back seconds later with one of the metal desk legs that we’re using as weapons. He also grabs what looks like a straight razorblade tool for splicing audiotape. Razorblade in hand, he starts slashing at my hair to free me from whatever is holding on.

Once I’m free, the guys pull me away from the door. Jack starts hitting the arm with the leg of the desk. After about five or six attempts, the badly bruised hand retreats. They finish pushing the second desk into position, blocking the door for now.

I fall to floor in shock from all the commotion. I can barely breathe fast enough to catch my breath. My chest is rising and falling so quickly. I start to cry.

“We can’t stay here,” I manage to choke out. “Those things know we’re in here. They’re not gonna stop until they get us.”

Jack helps me to my feet, gives me a hug, and a reassuring smile. He has a great smile.

“What are we gonna do now?” Nora asks.

“Not sure. We still don’t know what’s happening out there. Like Jane said, we have no idea how long those desks will keep us safe,” Jack says.

“What’s that smell? It’s like rotten eggs, only worse,” I ask.

I smell myself.

“Phew! I think it’s me,” I say. “I gotta wash my hands and my hair. Whatever that thing was it smells horrible.”

“Connor, watch the door. Make sure it stays secure. If anything moves, tell me. We need to stay extra alert. If just one of those things gets in here, we’re done,” Jack says.

“OK. Got it,” he replies.

Jack and Nora go over to the local AP to see if there are updates.

“What does it say?” Jack asks.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? The electricity is on, right? So we should be getting something.”

“Not if the local AP is down,” Nora says.

“I can’t believe that. They’re never down.”

“Try the phone. Call the police.”

He picks up the phone and dials.

“Any answer?”

“Fast busy signal. It looks like the phone lines are screwed up. I have a feeling we’re on our own, at least for now.”

Jack walks over to Bill and asks, “Are there any other exits in this building? I’m looking to find out all the ways in and out.”

“There’s one in the basement, but that door is solid metal, maybe steel, and it’s never been opened since I’ve been here. There’s also a hatch on the roof that’s accessible through the attic.”

“Is that all of them, besides this back door and the front security door?”

“Yeah, I mean except for the windows in the lounge and main office, that’s all of them.

“OK, we gotta go check everything out and see what our options are. Logan and Bill, go down to the basement and check it out. Be careful. Keep your eyes peeled and see what you can see down there.”

Jack runs over to the newsroom and opens a cabinet. He grabs a few flashlights and walkie-talkies and runs back.

“I almost forgot. We stocked up on additional supplies just in case.”

He hands a flashlight and a walkie-talkie to the basement twosome and tells them to take their weapons in case they run into any unexpected company.

“Nora and Connor, go find the hatch in the attic and see how we can access it. Be careful. The building should be secure enough for right now, but stay sharp.”

He hands another flashlight and walkie-talkie to them as well. He gives the attic group his cast-iron pan and desk leg.

Bill chimes in, “Nora, Connor, be very careful in that attic. Not just in case any of those things are in there, but watch where you step. The attic was never finished. Walk on the beams only. Maybe we should switch and Logan and I should explore the attic instead?”

Nora shrugs. Connor responds with a thumbs up and replies, “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us.”

“Stay in constant communication, and don’t get separated from your partner. OK? Jane and I are gonna check on Jayce and Abigail and see if we can get anyone on the phone. See if we can get some help.”

With that said, the two groups start their missions.

Jack takes a couple flashlights and a walkie-talkie for us too.

He starts to walk but notices I’m not following. He walks back to grab my hand. We begin to walk back to the lounge together.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” I say with a quiver in my voice.

He smiles at me.

“I do what I can to help. Our tools here are a bit limiting, but that’s probably because it’s a radio station and not an armory. It would have been easier if I had a gun,” he says. “My dad and I used to go hunting. He had a whole arsenal. It would be nice to have one of those guns right now.”

I’m freaked out talking about guns. What if he had a gun, tried to shoot a zombie, and hit me instead? Instead of letting my fear show, I simply say, “I’m not sure where we can find a gun on campus. We might be stuck using these more primitive weapons, unfortunately.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make them work.”

I smile.

“I guess I should cut the rest of this off, right?” I say as I touch what is left of my hair. “I wouldn’t want that to happen again. Plus my hair stinks now.”

We come to the door of the lounge. Jack removes the chair barrier and opens it. Nothing has changed. Jayce is still pinned to the wall with the antennas through him. Abigail is making growling sounds and moving around on the chair. She is still securely fastened to it, but just to be safe, we tape her down with another layer of duct tape. We also put another piece over her mouth to muffle the sounds she’s making.

After looking at our handiwork, we exit the lounge, replace the chair to secure the door, and make our way to the radio station’s main office area.

“Wait here,” he says. ”I’ll see if I can find scissors so we can actually cut your hair and not just shred it. OK?”

“OK. That sounds good.”

Jack starts searching the office desks and closets. He says, “We also should talk about those mysterious text messages you’ve been getting. While you’re waiting, try calling the police again.”

“Will do,” I say.

I dial the police on the main landline and still get the fast busy signal. I figure I’ll pull out my cell phone and try calling them again. Busy signal.

“These phones are worthless,” I mumble.

“What?” Jack says.

Frustrated, I don’t respond.

Sitting on the desk, I smell that familiar smell and hear a faint, moaning sound. I look down at my feet and can’t believe what I see.

It’s Jayce. I thought we killed him, but I guess we didn’t. He still has the antennas sticking out of his chest, but now they’re being dragged along the floor. He’s left a trail of dark red, almost black blood behind him. It’s something out of a horror movie.

“He’s not dead!” I shout over to Jack as I pull my legs back up on top of the desk.

“What? He’s not dead? Crap!” Jack says as he sees me pointing to Jayce on the floor, “OK, back to the newsroom.”

Before we leave the office, Jack pulls the antennas out of Jayce’s chest. He hands one to me and is about to plunge the other one into his skull.

Just then, we hear a cracking sound from above. With antenna in hand, he backs away from Jayce and pulls me aside. The attic floor above gives way, dumping all its contents—Nora and Connor included—through the ceiling and into the office with us, crushing Jayce at the same time. We run to the perimeter of the room to avoid being caught in the cave-in.

I knew the radio station is falling apart, but this is ridiculous. The force of the impact from the collapse of the attic breaks clean through our main floor as well and into the basement, bringing all except Jack and me along for the ride.

The office now has what seems like a yawning chasm with destruction all around. Gazing down into the hole below reveals the rubble of splintered wood, items, and bodies. It looks like a tornado has just blown through.

Jack jumps down on to the collapsed rubble to get to the basement.

“Don’t leave me alone,” I plead.

Kowtowing to my wishes, part-way down he stops, grabs my hand, and helps me down to the basement. Immediately, we see Logan and Bill are startled, but fine. All four of us rush over to Nora and Connor. Both are unconscious and bloodied. Their chests are rising and falling, but they aren’t moving, and their breathing seems faint.

“Jesus Christ. What was that?” I ask.

“This building is a dump. That’s what that was,” Logan says.

Bill gives him a disgusted look and says, “I told them to be careful up there!”

“That crash made a really loud noise. If those things didn’t know we were here before, they do now,” Jack says.

“Sh. Be quiet. Listen. Do you hear anything?” I say.

After a long pause, we all look at each other. Everything is quiet.

“We can’t stay here. We need to keep moving. See if we can get off campus or if we can find any help. That’s the only way we’re gonna make it out of this mess,” Jack says.

“What about Nora and Connor? They need our help,” Bill says, looking down at their broken bodies.

“Yeah. They do, but we can’t help them right now. We need to find help first and come back. OK?”

“OK,” Bill says.

“Good. OK.” Jack thinks for a moment. “If we’re gonna brave the elements and whatever those things are running around out there, we’re gonna need to be prepared. Grab your backpacks and fill ’em up with supplies like flashlights, batteries, food, water, and anything we can use as weapons.”

We all run upstairs to grab our backpacks. While everybody starts running around the station filling them up, I stand there looking at my backpack. Jack comes over to me.

“Problem?”

“I’m not gonna be able to fit much in my backpack. I have my books and my makeup taking up a lot of room.”

Jack looks at me and smiles.

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

He grabs my bag and dumps it upside down. My books, my professor’s pen, my homework, and my makeup crash to the floor.

Completely dejected, looking at all my stuff on the floor, I ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making room in your bag,” he says as he hands it back to me. “Plenty of room now.”

“Um. Thanks? Do you know how much I spent on books this semester? Do you have any clue how expensive my makeup is?”

“I’m not sure it’ll matter if you’re dead. Make sure to take the duct tape too. We’ll probably need it,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

“Oh, and here’s your walkie-talkie. I’ll have one too. In case we get split up, these should help.” He winks.

I smile at him. That’s sweet. I guess he really cares about what happens to me.

“What about this?” I say as I point to my hair, picking up a section of it to show how uneven and gross it is.

“Ah. Yes,” he replies. “Let me grab the scissors I found in the office. While I’m gone, start filling up your backpack.”

As Jack runs off, I skip over my heavy textbooks and grab my makeup, my professor’s pen, and my notebook from the floor and put them back at the bottom of my bag.

“If he thinks I’m leaving them here, he’s mistaken,” I say to myself, smiling.

Jack quickly returns as I’m tossing a couple rolls of duct tape, a pack of batteries, an extra flashlight, a six-pack of water, and a couple packs of prepackaged survival food—beef jerky, and granola bars—into my bag. I hope we won’t be out here looking for help for too long. I also grab my makeshift metal desk leg weapon, and I’m ready to go. No matter what Jack says, I can’t leave my makeup behind or my notebook. It’s a collection of all of my writing and homework. I can buy the books again, but I can’t easily recreate all my words. No one will know if I sneak it along with the supplies.

“OK, how should we do this?” he asks, looking at my hair.

“It doesn’t need to be perfect. Just cut off the sticky hair with zombie goo on it. You can also get rid of the hair that’s longer and try to make it the same length as the shorter sections. If it’s not even, it’s not the end of the world. And if it is the end of the world, it really doesn’t matter what my hair looks like, right?”

I can feel him move behind me. He’s touching my hair. I assume he’s scoping out what he’s going to cut. It’s an odd feeling having him behind me, but each time he touches me it feels so good. Each touch gives me the tingles.

Jack takes his time but finally starts to cut. Snip. Snip. Snip. My hair starts falling to the floor. He’s caressing my neck, making sure my hair length matches as best as it can.

“It’s gonna be short,” he warns.

“That’s cool,” I say. “Just make sure no one else can grab a fistful of my hair.”

A few more cuts here and there, and my hair is finished. We don’t have time to admire his handiwork. Abigail is making those awful noises again, and her zombie friends have returned. They’re banging on the back door. It’s so loud.

“Shit! That’s not good,” Jack says. “Hurry! Are you all packed? Don’t forget to bundle up too. It’s freezing out there.”

“Yeah. Wait!” I shout to Jack as I run through Studio Two to Studio One. “I need to tell Wyatt our plan. He can help. He can come with us.”

I bust through the door to Studio One. Startled, Wyatt jumps.

“We’re ready to go. Come with us.”

“I’d love to, but people need me here. People have been calling in, and it helps if there’s someone here to talk to them, ya know?”

“What? What are you saying? I understand your good intentions, but there’s no point in your staying here. We’re not sure how long it’s gonna take us to reach help,” I plead with him.

“I’m not going with you.”

“You’re staying?”

He nods.

Sadly, I hand him the walkie-talkie Jack gave to me.

“Keep in touch with us on this, OK?”

“Definitely,” Wyatt replies.

“And make sure the doors here to Studio One are secure and locked.”

“They’re heavy metal, so I should be fine. Plus, the windows are Plexiglas. No one is getting through them,” he says quite confidently.

I just continue to stare at him. I want to remember his face, just in case it’s the last time I see him. He isn’t looking at me but at the walkie-talkie I just handed him.

“This is giving me an idea,” he says, tapping the device. “If anyone calls in with information or needing help, I can pass all that info along to you. I’ll be your ears and voice and relay what I find out, OK?” He kisses my forehead.

“OK. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

“I’ve made up my mind. It’s time for you to go. Now go!”

I concur, look at him, take his hand, and tell him we’ll be back for him as soon as possible.

He nods and smiles.

“I like the new hair,” he says.

We hug. I run out of Studio One and watch him lock the door behind me. I rejoin the group.

“Where’s Wyatt?” Jack asks.

“He’s not coming. He wants to stay on the air to help,” I reply.

“That gives me an idea. Logan! Bill! Come with me. We gotta take care of something before we leave,” Jack says as he grabs my hand.

The four of us all pack and get ready to go back to the collapsed office area. Nora and Connor are still in the rubble. They hadn’t moved at all. Jack jumps down to them. He listens to their breathing. It’s faint, but they’re still alive.

“Here. Help me. Grab Nora,” Jack says.

Logan grabs her shoulders, and Jack grabs her legs. Her body seems limp and broken in their arms. They take her into Studio One with Wyatt. Jack comes back, and Bill helps him carry Connor. I follow. As I enter Studio One again, I hear Wyatt in the middle of a conversation with Logan.

“Are you sure they’re not gonna get up and bite me while I’m on the air?” Wyatt asks as he watches their chests rise and fall.

“They aren’t bitten, so you don’t need to worry about that,” Logan says.

“Everything will be cool, Wyatt. When we find help, we’ll be back for you as soon as we’re able,” Jack says confidently. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

“I think I can do more good here.”

“Let’s move it then,” Jack says to the rest of us as he clutches his makeshift weapon. “We can’t wait any longer. Ready to go?”

Chapter 7

________________________________________

2:00 p.m.

“Which way should we go? Basement? Attic? The main door?” Logan asks.

“I vote for the attic,” I say. “It’s gotta be better than being face-to-face with whatever is running around out there.”

Jack nods. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan. We may be able to see better higher up too.”

“Just please, please, please be careful where you step,” Bill says. “The attic was never finished and depending on where we step, we could fall through just like Nora and Connor did. Just walk on the beams.”

“Someone’s gotta walk in front of me so I know where to go,” I say.

“Maybe we should consider another exit,” Logan chimes in. “It won’t help us if we end up breaking our necks.”

“She’ll be OK,” Jack says, “I’ll walk in front of her, and Bill knows this building pretty well, right? We’ll be fine. The other exits really aren’t options. They lead to ground level, and I don’t want to deal with those things until we absolutely have to.”

“OK. The attic it is. Just be careful. Take small steps and try to be light on your feet. No stomping. Try to just step on the beams. They’re much stronger than those flimsy floorboards,” Bill says, then adds: “I almost forgot. If we’re gettin’ outta here by rooftop, we’re gonna need some rope.”

“Rope? Why rope?” I ask.

“We'll be over two stories up. How do you suppose we’re gonna get down off the roof? Jump?”

Bill runs to get rope from the maintenance closet.

“Once we hit the roof, let’s check out the police station and the infirmary first and see what’s happening there before we head off,” Jack says. "If everything is a mess, then we’ll make our way to North Campus for Jane’s professor’s 4x4.”

“What if there’s no 4x4? Shouldn’t we have a backup plan or something?” Logan asks.

“Hm. Yeah. We should. What about those big-ass snowplows? It’s snowing. Those should be in good shape, right? Maybe we should split up to give us a better chance at getting out of here and finding help?” Bill asks after he returns with rope.

“Hey, yeah. That’s a good idea. Jane and I will head north. You and Logan head, um, where are the snowplows?”

“West Campus. I used to help out and plow snow for extra cash. We just need to get there, and we’ll be cool,” Logan says.

The banging at the back door is getting louder.

“OK. We have our plan. Up the stairs to the attic. Go. Go. Go. Be careful. Look for the hatch.” Jack hurries us along.

Bill goes up first, then Jack, then me, and Logan is pulling up the rear. The stairs to the attic are not sturdy and feel far from solid beneath my feet. Keeping a keen eye on where Jack steps so I can follow, I feel like I am going to fall through the floor just like Nora and Connor did.

As we trek across the attic, I see the huge hole Nora and Connor left when they fell. Please don’t let us fall. It feels like forever as we step from beam to beam, testing out each beam before we put our full weight on it, just waiting for it to break.

Bill whispers back that he has made it to the hatch.

“It’s stuck,” he says.

“Is it locked? Do you have to slide it?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, but it’s stuck. Rusted is more like it.”

“Move over,” Jack says.

He gets the cast-iron pan he retrieved from Connor’s backpack and hits the latch hard with it. The latch breaks right off.

“There you go,” he says.

Jack flips open the hatch to take a peek on the roof. As his head pokes out above, I have a perfect glimpse at the rest of his body close-up. I know we’re in a time of crisis, but I can still admire the view, right? As he stretches to see what’s happening, his body tenses against his clothing. What am I thinking about? Gotta focus on not falling through the floor.

Jack stoops down and gives us the thumbs up. He proceeds through the hatch. Once through, he extends his hand to help me up. Bill and Logan are behind me.

The roof is covered with snow and ice. It’s freezing. It’s slippery too. As I move over a bit to let Bill and Logan up, I trip and start sliding to the edge of the roof.

I try to grab hold of something, but there isn’t anything to grab onto. The roof is too slick. Shit. It’s a long way down from the roof. I’m going to break my leg or my neck or worse. Either way, those things will get me.

“Grab my feet, guys, and hold on!” I hear Jack shout.

Jack is tall, so he is able to stretch out and reach me as Logan and Bill hold onto him. He grabs the hood of my coat before I fall off. As I am momentarily sitting on the edge of the roof, I look down past the icicles, and I see a swarm of those things rushing the back door. They look horrible. Pale, gray skin. Dirty dried blood plastered on their faces and clothes. Scared, I reach behind me as best I can, and Jack grabs my hand.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”

Freaked out, I say, “Those things just broke through the door. I just saw them.”

He pulls me close, and the four of us sit quietly for a moment. My phone buzzes again.

“Is that another text message? Jack asks.

I take my backpack off and get my phone out.

“Yeah. It’s another one.”

“What’s this one say?”

I know what you’re doing. It won’t work. Come to me or I promise I’ll come for you. You can’t ignore me anymore.

“Who thinks you’re ignoring them?”

Just then, Jack’s other walkie-talkie clicks on. It’s Wyatt.

“Jane, I just want to let you know I’m fine.”

Jack hands me his walkie-talkie and shows me which button to push to talk.

“OK. Good. I was worried there for a moment.”

“Don’t worry. The doors to Studio One are holding; so are the windows. I’m good. Just find out what the hell is going on and get help.”

“We will, Wyatt. We’ll get help.”

I click off the walkie-talkie, knowing that Jack will not be pleased.

Jack looks at me disapprovingly. “Where’s your walkie-talkie?”

“Um. I gave it to Wyatt because he’s staying behind and I want to make sure he’s OK.”

“Well, I gave it to you because I want to make sure you’re OK if we happen to get separated.”

“Sorry,” I say as I hand the walkie-talkie back to him.

“Keep it. I brought others. That one will keep us in contact with Wyatt. And this one will keep us in touch with you guys,” Jack says to Logan and Bill.

“Now, who are you ignoring, Jane? Think,” Jack pleads with me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. No one. Let’s focus on the plan, all right?”

“All right. Which professor are we borrowing the 4x4 from?”

“Professor Carter. Benjamin Carter,” I say.

“I’ve heard that name before. The professor who’s making inroads into finding the cure for cancer? That Professor Carter?” Jack asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess you saw that article in the paper too?”

“Totally. According to the article, he’s one of the brilliant minds of our time.”

“I guess so.”

“I take it you feel otherwise?”

“Sorta, yes.”

“I understand. I have some professors who rub me the wrong way too. Nevertheless, there’s something really not right about what’s happening here. We should try to find him if we can. See if he knows what’s going on. Maybe he can help, ya know?”

“Maybe we should just focus on taking the 4x4 and getting the hell out of here,” I say.

“Why would you say that? We should take every opportunity to learn as much as we can. Depending upon how things go, this might be our last chance to talk with him and find answers, if he’s even still alive.”

“He just makes me feel uncomfortable. I feel like he stares at me in class. It’s just... awkward.”

“You sure you’re not just misinterpreting things?”

“I don’t think so. Uh. Like I said, can we just focus on the 4x4?”

“Sure. Our goal will be to snag his 4x4, but...”

“But what?”

“If we happen to run into him, we should at least question him and see if he can tell us what’s going on here; maybe we can get to the bottom of it and fix whatever’s gone wrong.” Jack glances at me with his confident smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back, OK?”

“OK.”

Taking a moment to observe from our high perch, we can’t see many of those things running around, at least not yet. I guess they all barged their way into the radio station. Is everyone else already off campus, are they hiding out inside, or is our view just obscured from the constant snowfall?

Jack announces that it’s time to move.

Still on the roof, we each go to a different side of the building to scope out what’s going on and which side would be best to climb down. I look at the back side of the radio station, and everything is quiet since they broke through the back door.

The coast is clear on all sides, so we decide to traverse the north side of the building closest to our destination. Jack makes a knot with the rope and hooks it around the rooftop hatch hinge.

Jack goes first to make sure the rope is holding. As he scoots down the line, the roof hatch makes a squeak here and there, but it remains strong and sturdy. I’m up next. With my backpack in tow, I face Bill and Logan as I get my bearings on the rope.

“Um. I’ve never climbed a rope before,” I say.

“Good thing you’re not climbing one now,” Bill replies.

I smile and begin my descent to the ground. It’s so cold out. I can feel the snow and wind whipping against my face. It’s also difficult to hold on to the rope wearing my mittens. My hands are sliding, which helps me get down the rope faster. The friction of the rope against my mittens is hot and actually is pretty nice considering the fact that I’m so cold.

“Good job,” Jack says as I hit the ground.

I smile.

Bill and Logan follow.

“OK. We’re off to the police station. Stay sharp, OK? We have no idea what’s going on here and no idea what’s waiting for us when we get there.”

With that said, we start our slow hike to the station. Walking in the snow is fine until the cold begins to set in. The wind is especially brutal. Add in the fact that we’re going uphill, I’m getting tired fast.

We barely arrive at the police station before a booming loudspeaker greets us.

“Who’s there? Push the button on the panel to talk.”

The four of us step forward, trying to take shelter from the blustering winds. Jack pushes the button as instructed.

“Sh. Hello?” Jack replies, hoping none of those things heard the loudspeaker.

“Speak up! Who’s there?”

“My name is Jack, and we need your help. Can you come out and talk with us? Please stop using your loudspeaker. It only attracts them. Do you know what’s going on here?”

There’s no response. Silence. The only thing I can hear is the wind blowing in my almost frozen ears. Something isn’t right. These aren’t cops.

The police station door opens. Not knowing what is happening, we start to walk forward.

He’s dressed in black and wearing a mask. He gives us each a look up and down. As soon as he sees me, he takes off his mask. And to my disbelief, there he is, Mr. Local Hockey Legend himself, Lance. Give me a wintry squall, a state of emergency, an outbreak on campus... somehow, the rest of it just doesn’t quite seem as bad as standing in front of this piece of work right at this moment.

“Oh! Look who it is, Jane! Love what you did with your hair! So how's the little girl who didn’t want to go out with me doing? Bet you're regretting that decision right about now.”

“Hi Lance. I never said—”

“Listen guys,” he says. “We have lots of food, water, ammo, safety, and anything else you might want inside. Basically we have everything we need to wait out whatever is happening. And we’re happy to share, but we’re gonna need something from you.”

“Um. OK. I’m not sure we have anything you don’t already have, but I’m listening,” Jack says.

“We want Jane.”

“What do you mean you want her? She’s not my property to give. She’s a human being.”

“That was before. This is now. We rule this place. So we get what we want, and you get what you want. Everybody wins.”

“Not everybody,” I point out.

Looking directly at me, he repeats his earlier ultimatum: “Put out or get out.”

“You’re a douchebag, Lance.”

“Final answer? OK, then. Good luck out there.” Lance points a gun at our group, gesturing for us to head back the way we came. We follow his orders, turning back only once he continues, “Oh, and Jane, when the zombies get you, and they will get you, just remember you could've given a real man half an hour to show you a good time rather than turning yourself and your little friends here into a bunch of meat snacks.”

Jack is ready to lunge at Lance for disrespecting me, his masculinity, and his friends, but Bill and Logan grab him by the shoulders, knowing it’s a bad idea.

“Something you want to say to me, pretty boy?” Lance waves his gun at Jack menacingly. Jack bites his tongue. “Didn't think so.” Lance leers. “So how about you kids just keep on walking before we mow you down and take whatever supplies you have as our own?”

We turn and consider our next step. Lance slams the police station door shut. No wonder that squad car never arrived.

“Wow! Didn’t expect that from him,” Logan says.

Just then my walkie-talkie clicks.

“Jane? Hello?” It’s Wyatt.

“Hey, Wyatt. What’s up?”

“We’ve been getting reports from people all over campus that zombies are running rampant, so be careful, OK?”

“Thanks for the heads up, Wyatt. We’ll keep our eyes open. You OK?”

“So far so good.”

We are on our own. We have to press on.

3:30 p.m.

“So the police station didn’t work out,” Jack says.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be. He’s the asshole,” Jack says.

“Where should we go now?” I ask.

“Let’s try the infirmary like we said we’d do earlier. Maybe we can find help there.”

Backtracking a bit, we turn around to head toward the hospital. While it isn’t far away, maybe a block or two, the snow is getting heavier, making it more difficult to get anywhere. Without the plows clearing the way, the streets and walkways are nearly impassable. Snow is up to the middle of my thighs.

We finally make it to the emergency room entrance. The stale smell of blood and death permeate the air. No one is there. It’s a ghost town.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but look for anything we might need. Water, bandages, alcohol, anything sharp we can use as weapons. Take whatever you can find,” Jack says. “And make sure to grab some painkillers. They may come in handy.”

We all nod and start searching.

In the haste of opening drawers and looking for supplies, I knock over a tray of medical equipment. It makes a loud crashing sound as the metal hits the ground. We all stop moving and just listen.

“Damn, that’s loud,” Logan says.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Sh. Wait. Do you hear something?” Bill asks.

Chapter 8

________________________________________

4:00 p.m.

We all stare at the door. Waiting. Hoping nothing would happen. But just as my adrenaline is coming down to a normal level, a swarm of infected people busts through the main infirmary door and charges toward us.

“Where’d they come from?” Logan shouts.

“Go to the main hospital door! We’ve gotta get outta here! Run!” Jack yells.

Frozen to the floor, I can’t believe what is happening. How do these things just come out of the woodwork?

Jack runs over to me, grabs me by the collar, and pulls me toward the door.

“Run!” he shouts in my ear.

As if awakened from a nightmare, I move quickly and follow the rest of the group out of the infirmary and into the main campus hospital section of the building. As soon as we are all inside, Logan slams the door shut behind us and locks it before they are able to push their way in.

I can see our attackers clearly for the very first time as they smash their grotesque faces against the thick door window. They look angry and deformed. Parts of their faces are sunken in. What are these things? Are these zombies like Wyatt said? What happened to turn them into these primitive and savage creatures?

“Jane, what are you doing over there?” Jack asks.

“Staring. Look at them.” I turn to the guys and point to the door. “They’re worse than monsters.”

“Let’s talk.” Jack says.

“OK,” Bill replies.

“We have to move quickly. I have a feeling it won’t be long until they bring their friends and surround us,” Jack says. “Does everyone remember the plan?”

I am still staring at the door, scared and mesmerized at the same time.

“Jane.”

I don’t respond.

“Jane!”

I finally hear my name. “Yes. Sorry. I hear you. We’re gonna go north. Hedge our bets on transportation outta here by going for my professor’s 4x4. Maybe see if he knows anything, if we can track him down.”

In the same breath I change the topic. I stare back at the grotesque faces at the door and say, “Those things out there are fucking frightening, aren’t they? Now that we have medical supplies, I wonder if we should go back and help the others?”

“I don’t think we can go back now. It’s just not possible with those things roaming around. We have to keep moving forward and find help. It’s the best thing we can do for all of us,” Logan says.

“Jane and I will head north and see if we can find the 4x4. If we fail, we’ll be counting on you two to get us transportation out of here, snowplow style,” Jack says.

“Got it,” Bill says.

“They should be in the maintenance sheds and in working order ‘cause it’s snowing like crazy,” Logan says.

“Go there, find keys, and lock yourselves inside one of them. Don’t come out for anyone or anything. They have a self-contained compartment made of metal, right?” Jack asks.

“Yeah. Metal,” Logan replies, not too confidently.

“OK, so you should be safe in one,” Jack says.

“How do you figure that? Those things broke through two heavy metal desks blocking the back door. Why do you think we’ll be safe in a metal box?” Logan asks.

My heart stops for a moment. The banging at the door gets louder. Worried, we all look over to make sure the door is holding.

“Well, for one thing you’ll be much higher off the ground. Second, you’ll be constantly moving. The combo should give you an advantage,” Jack says.

“What about you and Jane?” Bill asks.

“What about us?” I ask.

“You’ll be in a little 4x4 truck.”

“Nah. You’ll have gotten to us in enough time,” Jack answers confidently. “We won’t be that far away from each other, so keep in touch using the walkie-talkies. OK? But don’t be loud about it. The trick is to be quiet, as quiet as you can be. Those things are attracted to loud sounds, so we don’t want to make any.”

Jack holds up his walkie-talkie, “And don’t forget to use them. Stay in touch. Wyatt will signal us if he gets any calls at the station with information we can use or from people needing our help. That is, if he’s still alive.”

Unhappy, I look at Jack.

“Sorry,” he says, realizing that was uncalled for, though quite possible.

I click the button on my walkie-talkie.

“Wyatt, you OK over there?”

“Yeah, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say things were hairy. The doors to Studio One seem to be holding and the Plexiglas is taking a beating, but so far so good.”

“Good to hear,” I say, excited to hear his voice. “We ran into some roadblocks, but we’re back on track now.”

“I figured that would happen. Stay safe and come back and get me when you can, OK?”

“You got it.”

Momentarily relieved, I click off.

“OK, is everyone OK with the plan?” Jack asks. “We’re just trying to get some answers, make our way off campus, and see if we can find some help. At the very least, find someone who knows what's going on. It’s simple. We can totally do this.

“Bundle up. It’s cold out there, and it’s only gonna get colder. We’re in the dead of winter up here. I know we’re all scared and probably a little tired at this point, but we’re gonna have to keep it together for a little while longer. Take a minute to make sure you’re all taped up.”

We all grab our rolls of duct tape and rewrap our arms and legs. A second layer can’t hurt, right?

“Let’s get going. We’ll see you soon,” Jack says as he shakes hands with Bill and Logan. I hug them both goodbye.

Jack and I start the uphill journey to North Campus. As we start walking, I turn around for a moment and see Logan and Bill head off downhill to West Campus in hopes of finding a working snowplow. They disappear into the background of white snow.

I’m not religious, but I close my eyes for one brief second to pray that we all make it out of this mess alive.

Chapter 9

________________________________________

5:00 p.m.

I didn’t realize just how difficult it would be to walk uphill in thigh-high snow with the wind whipping against my face. I thought it would be a pain, but this is almost insurmountable.

The snowflakes are the biggest I’ve seen. You know the ones. When they hit you, you immediately feel so wet and cold, especially if they happen to land on your head, and the freezing cold water drips down your back, giving you a shocking chill.

Under this never-ending assault by Mother Nature, I’m getting tired, and my legs aren’t listening to my brain anymore. I have to stop. My stomach grumbles. The sun is going down, and I haven’t eaten since last night.

“Why did I come to this school?” I ask.

“Because it’s a good one?”

“It doesn’t seem so good now. You know I could have gone to school in Florida? Florida! And on a complete scholarship, no less, but no, I turned it down, and now look at me. Us. Freezing to death. Being chased by insane zombies that want to eat me. Us. Whatever.”

“It could be worse.”

“Worse. How could this possibly be worse?”

“Well for one thing, we could be one of those things instead of just running from them.”

“Ha. I guess that’s a good point.” I smile.

My stomach grumbles. It’s so loud Jack hears it.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“I know it’s gonna sound weird to mention this when we’re worried about being eaten by zombies, but I’m starving.”

“It’s not weird at all. I’m actually hungry too. When is the last time you ate something, anyway?”

“Last night. I dunno. Around eight or nine or so,” I say as I go fishing in my backpack and grab two granola bars. I hand one to Jack and proceed to munch on the other. I hope it will quiet my stomach. The last thing we need is a zombie finding us because my stomach is making too much noise.

“Stay positive, Jane. We need to keep going. We can’t go back, and we won’t be able to make it if one of us gives up. I need you. Ready to pick up the pace?”

“Uh huh. I am. Let’s go.”

5:30 p.m.

After 30 minutes of trudging through the heavy, wet snow, we finally make it to the Arts and Sciences Quad. We quickly scurry into one of the old buildings— McKinley Hall, I think—on the near side of the quad. Since I’m new on campus and the snow is falling so much that all the buildings are completely covered, I can’t be sure which building is named what.

The moment we enter the building, the walkie-talkie clicks. It sounds so loud. I guess that’s because it’s so quiet in here.

Jack answers, “Hey, Wyatt. What’s up?”

“I just got a call from a girl in Jefferson Hall. That’s in the Arts & Sciences Quad, not far from where you’re headed on North Campus. She’s clearly part of the crew who doesn’t pay attention until something is thrown in her face. Anyway, she went to class and so did her professor. That’s when things went to pot.”

“Jefferson Hall? Yeah, we’re not far from there. We’ll make our way there now. Where is she in the building?”

“She says she’s in the basement. She's totally freaking out. Her name is Laura.”

“OK, we’ll find her.”

“She’s really scared.”

“I don’t blame her. Jane and I have seen some things that would make you shit your pants.”

“I hear ya. It’s a party over here too. How is Jane?”

Jack hands me the walkie-talkie.

“I’m OK. Jack is taking good care of me. How are you?”

“Hanging in there. These things seem to have quieted down so all the banging on the doors and windows has pretty much stopped, at least for the moment. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just be safe and find help.”

“Will do. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“That’s what I want to hear, but please be careful out there. Laura said those things are running around. You don’t want to run into them if you can help it.”

“We get it.”

“OK. Wyatt out.”

“Bye.”

I sigh. I’m worried about Wyatt and his decision to stay behind. He was probably a Boy Scout when he was younger.

“I hope we can get back to him in time,” I say.

“Don’t think about it. Let’s keep moving. Let’s find that girl who called in.”

As we’re walking up the foyer steps to take refuge in the building, I get to thinking about the military presence I saw on campus earlier. The guys dressed in fatigues were talking with my professor and that girl from class. What happened to them? Not only does it seem like all the people are gone from campus, but the military is gone too. If something were that wrong, wouldn’t the military stay on campus?

We finally make it to the top of the steps and go inside the building. The lights are on, but where is the heat? It’s frigid inside. Jack must have been cold too. He turns to me to ask, “Are you warm enough?”

“I think so” I shiver. My body movements are doing a lousy job backing up my words.

“Are you lying to me?” he asks playfully.

“Not at all.”

I guess he wants to make sure I’m bundled up and not freezing to death. He takes the hat from his head, pulls back my hood, and places it on my head.

He caresses my face and looks into my eyes.

“That doesn’t block your peripheral vision or anything, does it?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

He replaces my hood. I hug him and smile.

Just then my phone buzzes again.

“Again?” I say. “God damn it.”

“Gimme the phone,” Jack says.

I hand it over to him, and he reads the new message.

“Interesting,” he says.

“What does it say?”

“It says, I see you’ve decided to take my advice and come see me, you and that news guy from the radio station. I didn’t think you’d make it this far.”

Jack frowns. “That’s odd. How does this person know where you are and who you’re with?”

“I don’t know.”

“Only the guys and the zombies we’ve run into know where we are. Who’s leaking our location? God damn it.”

“Logan and Bill?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. If that’s the case, I don’t know whom we can trust.”

“Do you think we should ask the guys about it? Maybe we should check in with them to see how they’re doing? Ask if it’s as slow going for them as it is for us?”

“Nah. Not yet. The walkie-talkies use power, and we really don’t know how long we’re gonna be out here. We should conserve power right now. Let’s only use them if we have to, OK? Plus, how would we ask that question without sounding like we don’t trust them or without sounding all conspiracy theory-like?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Let’s keep going,” he says.

As we walk through the main hallway to get to the other side of the building, a horrible smell invades our nostrils and soon we see blood smears on the floor.

“I think I’m gonna throw up. Look at that,” I say as I point to the mess.

“That’s weird. If those blood stains came from a body, where’s that body now? We should get out of here. Fast.”

He picks up his pace, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the exit.

“We might not be alone. Let’s keep moving.”

As we continue down the hallway to the exit on the other side of the building, we hear a familiar moaning sound, just like the sounds Jayce and Abigail made. And it seems like it’s getting louder, closer. I can feel my whole body tense up. I hold onto Jack’s hand tight.

The walkie-talkie clicks again, and it’s perhaps the loudest click I’ve heard in my entire life. After that, we hear the guys chattering a little on the other end. Jack goes to grab the walkie-talkie as we walk toward the exit.

As he puts the walkie-talkie to his face, four zombies stand in front of us, blocking our original escape route.

“Oh shit,” he says.

He puts one arm in front of me to prevent me from walking any further. He also clicks the button to talk.

“Um. Bad timing, guys. We’ve got company. Gotta call you back.” He grabs my hand and starts taking steps backward.

These zombies smell and look worse than the other ones. They are even more disgusting, if that’s possible. They’re dirty, probably from the dried blood caked onto their faces from whomever they killed. One is missing an arm. How you walk around missing an arm is beyond me. Another has a gash, like a hole, in its chest. Maybe someone tried to kill it by impaling it on something like we did with Jayce. I guess those things don’t work. How are we going to kill any of them if we need to? I guess that’s a question for another time.

“OK. We can’t go this way anymore. Go back.” Jack says.

“Go back?”

“Yes. Yes! Back! Go back to the stairwell. Where we entered. There’s a staircase.”

He quickly does an about-face and changes our direction. As we whirl around, he slips. I hold onto him tight and manage to help him up so he can regain his balance.

“Thanks for that,” he says. “We’ve gotta move.”

Not looking back, we sprint as best we can back to the center of the building and the staircase.

“Up or down? Up or down?” I ask.

“Down. If we go up, we might be trapped with no place to go. Plus, I don’t think we have any more rope so we can’t make our way down. At least, not easily.”

We begin our sprint down the stairs.

“If we can make it to the basement, we may be able to wait it out. These guys aren’t pursuing us. At least not quickly. Maybe we can hide out until they lose interest and forget about us.”

As we wind our way around, we hit the first floor.

“Keep going.”

There are no more stairs. We finally come to the bottom.

“I guess this is the basement.”

“Can zombies use the stairs?” I whisper.

Jack shrugs.

We take cover behind some large desks. After a few minutes of silence, Jack grabs for his walkie-talkie. “Bill, we’re trapped in McKinley Hall. In the basement. The infected are right above us."

“Crap! Do you need some help?”

“Yes, but we’ll figure it out. Focus on your mission.” Jack replies.

“We’ve run into some of the infected down here too. We’re not far from the sheds where they keep the snowplows,” Bill says.

“That’s music to my ears,” Jack says.

“Did you say you’re in the basement in one of the classroom buildings?”

“Yeah, McKinley Hall.”

“Do you know about the tunnels?”

“Tunnels? No.”

“Yeah. Tunnels. It’s just a theory I have from knowing the history of the school. The weather is so brutal up here sometimes, and I guess that’s the way it’s always been. I’ve heard rumors that the original builders created these tunnels for maintenance. When they first started construction on the buildings, they dug tunnels for the workers to take cover from extreme weather. It’s a safety thing, and I guess a productivity thing. It’s just a rumor, of course, but if you’re stuck you might want to search for what looks like a maintenance entrance. If they haven’t been used in years, they might be buried behind whatever clutter is down there.”

“Do you know if these tunnels go all the way through to the next building or do they stop midway?

“No clue. You’re gonna have to see for yourself. Sorry.”

“Thanks for the tip. We’ll take a look around.”

Jack releases the talk button. We look at each other. He didn’t sound like someone who is out to get us, but you never know.

“Maybe the zombies gave away our location?” I ask.

“That sounds awfully strange to me, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, but what other possibilities are there?”

The basement is pitch black. We pull out our flashlights.

“It doesn’t look like they’re following us. At least, not yet. I mean, they would have found us by now, right? Look for a door. It might be hard to find. Like Bill says, after all these years it might blend into the walls since no one has used the tunnels in years, if they even exist.”

As I shine the light around the room, all I see is old junk: beat-up desks, broken chairs, old blackboards. Our flashlights are going strong, but I still manage to stumble over something. The object crashes to the floor. Damned sleep deprivation is not helping my coordination. I’m scared to death, but look over to Jack for reassurance and stand still.

We listen. Nothing. Whew.

“The next building we want to get to is over on this side. Let’s try looking around for something that resembles a door frame.”

Luckily it only takes us a few minutes to find it.

“I can’t believe we found it.” I said.

We pull on the doorknob, but the door is stuck. We try again. It isn’t opening. We can’t get a good grip. Our hands are still wet from the snow and sweaty from dealing with our new “friends” who surprised us in the hallway upstairs.

“How are we gonna get it open?” I ask.

“Hm. I don’t know. We need to get a better grip on the doorknob.”

“Maybe we should tape up our hands again? It might be enough friction to move the doorknob.”

“Remove the old tape first and then let’s try it,” he says as we tape up again.

Some additional elbow grease and a couple tries later, the duct tape does the trick. We’re able to free the door. It opens with a loud creak.

Door open, we both look inside at the inky blackness of the tunnel ahead.

Chapter 10

________________________________________

6:00 p.m.

“Uh. Are we supposed to go in there? It’s really dark. Did I mention I’m afraid of the dark?” I say.

“Afraid of the dark? I don’t believe that for a second. You walk down to the station in the middle of the night, right?”

“Yeah, and it isn’t fun.”

“Well, think of it this way. It’s getting dark outside now, so it doesn’t matter which way we go. At least this way we’re somewhat protected as opposed to being completely vulnerable outside,” he says as he holds my hand, reassuring me.

“Sure. Sure. You make a good point.”

“We’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Maybe there’s a light switch. Grab your flashlight and start looking.”

After a few minutes of our dueling beams of light climbing the walls and the archway of the door, we finally find the light switch.

Jack clicks on the lights. The tunnels are dark gray-walled corridors. Nothing fancy about them. Even with light, it’s dank inside and somewhat musty, according to my nose.

“There they go. They’re dim, but they’re on.”

“Wow. I didn’t know having the lights on could make something scarier. At least before, I couldn’t see anything. Now all I see are shadows everywhere. Maybe we should continue using our flashlights?”

“Sure. We can if it’ll make you feel better.”

We keep our flashlights out and close the door behind us. We pull out our homemade desk legs for protection just in case we happen to run into anything or anyone unexpected. With one hand on a flashlight and the other on our weapons, we start to walk down the long corridor.

After a few more yards, it starts to get colder.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

“Nah.”

“I just got a chill.”

“You might just be cooling off from having the shit scared out of you earlier. Here, let me see if I can warm you up a bit,” Jack says as he gets close.

Jack wraps himself around me. It feels nice and safe in his arms. I close my eyes and hope this is all a bad dream and the two of us are far away without a care in the world. But when I open them, no, the nightmare continues.

“Is that better?” he asks.

“Yeah. Much better. Thanks.” I smile.

“OK, then. Let’s keep moving and hope this tunnel goes all the way through. I don’t want to think about going back right now.”

We come to the end of the passageway and see the exit. We push against it, but it doesn’t move.

“It’s probably old and rusted like the first door. We’re gonna need to put a little more work into opening it. Let’s try it again. Push as hard as you can.”

We push with all our might, and the door makes a creaking sound. Giving it all we can, the door flings open and bangs against the wall with a loud clang.

We hear a loud scream.

After we hit the lights in the basement, we see a young girl about my age frightened and huddled on the floor amongst the usual college trash, such as used corkboards and broken desks. She’s got what looks like black mascara smudges under her eyes, and she’s shaking. She covers her face with her hands and turns her head away from us.

“Sh. Laura? We’re not gonna hurt you. Are you OK?” I ask.

She seems to calm down a little.

“Do you remember the guy you spoke to on the phone? He told us you needed help,” I ask.

Still breathing heavily and shaking, she says, “Yes, I remember. He said to call if I needed help.”

“How did you wind up down here? What happened?” Jack asks.

“I ran down here when those, those things crashed my class. One minute, I’m learning the difference between convex and concave, and the next minute those things explode into the room going crazy. They were all over the place. In the hallways. Outside. They attacked the professor and all the students. There was blood. So much blood.”

I watch her as she tells her story, shaking and getting upset.

“I—I didn’t know where to go or what to do, so I came down here. I was quiet. I don’t think they saw me. I put on my headphones to listen to some music and try and calm myself down. That’s when I heard the guy on the radio. He said he’d send help, and you’re here.” She smiles at us.

“They didn’t follow you?” I ask.

“I don’t think so.”

“Did they bite you?”

“No, I don't think so. I’m fine except for being really scared. What’s going on, anyway?”

“We don’t know, to be honest. We thought you could tell us something,” Jack says.

“No. Not really. I already told you everything I know. Where did you come from? I didn’t know there was a door right there in the wall.”

“Yeah. That’s a long story. We’ll explain later. Right now we have to keep moving. That’s the only way we’re gonna find help and learn what’s going on here,” Jack says.

“Can I come with you?”

“Sure. Of course, but I have to ask, how long have you been down here?”

“Just a few hours. In the beginning, I heard them running around up there, but I haven’t heard anything in a while. Maybe it would be OK to go upstairs now?”

“I’m not sure about that. Is there anything you can use as a weapon down here? A metal desk leg, a 2x4, a baseball bat, anything that you can easily swing? There’s tons of old stuff down here.”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s look.”

The three of us search around the basement. As we scavenge, I feel like we’re making more noise than we should, but so far so good. We’re still in the clear. We find lots of things we can use, mostly big pieces of metal from old desks and chairs, but we don’t have Bill’s bolt cutter to break any of them apart.

Just then Jack produces one of the metal pieces from the antenna Bill had chopped up earlier.

“I packed them in my bag. I thought we might need them at some point. Take a piece of the antenna. Wrap the handle with duct tape so it’s easier to grip,” he says.

“I didn’t see you pack those,” I tell him with a smile.

“I like to have a few aces up my sleeve when I can.”

“If you’re coming with us, you should tape yourself up too.” I tell Laura.

“Tape myself up?”

“Yeah. You’ve seen those things bite, right? Well, the tape should prevent them from making direct contact with your skin, even if they do bite you.”

“OK,” Laura says.

“So? Should we risk going upstairs or continue through the underground tunnels?” I ask Jack.

“I don’t know. I’ll grant you the tunnels are scary as hell. And dark. But like I said before, at least we’re not out in open like when we’re walking outside. I don’t know. Let’s quietly go upstairs and see what’s going on. Maybe the bad stuff has gone away. Who knows, right? We can hope.”

We begin to climb the stairs. Jack goes first with me behind him and Laura behind me. As we reach the first floor, we look around and see those zombie things milling around. To me, they seem, I don’t know, bored? Sluggish? Disinterested?

We hear barking. I look out the door and see a dog running our way. I also see why the dog is running so fast. It has a whole crowd of zombies closing in on it. They don’t move very fast, but there are a lot of them, and they seem to pop up out of nowhere. That’s not good. With all the commotion, all the sedentary zombies are now on the move again, toward us.

“Change of plan. Go back down the stairs. Go. Go. Go!” Jack commands.

We rush back down the stairs. The dog follows our lead.

“Are they following us? Are they coming?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Keep looking for the door. I’ll check it out,” Jack says. “Find the door to the next tunnel so we can get to the next building. We have to find it fast.”

I shine my flashlight all over the wall, feeling for the door. We find it in a jiffy. It’s pretty easy to find now that we know what we’re looking for.

I turn to check on Jack. As he’s looking up the stairs to make sure the coast is clear, a zombie falls down and almost knocks him over.

“Ah! Shit! We gotta open it now. We can’t screw around. Put everything you’ve get into it!” I shout.

I turn around and see a few more zombies fall down the steps. They’re shrieking and slow to get up, but they are getting to their feet and making their way over to us. The dog starts growling as a futile deterrent to our pursuers, crouching into a defensive stance as it slowly backs toward us.

“Pull!” With several grunts, the door swings open. We rush inside, and so does the dog.

“Close it!” I yell.

The door sticks a little, and we pull harder. It certainly isn’t closing as quickly as it had opened. Pulling with every ounce of strength I have to close the door, I feel a zombie hand grab my arm through the opening.

I scream.

Chapter 11

________________________________________

6:30 p.m.

The dog jumps up and chomps down on the zombie’s wrist. At the same time, we muster up enough strength to finally close the door with a loud thud. We can breathe a sigh of relief, and the dog is plenty happy to have his new zombie hand chew toy.

“Ew,” I say.

“What’s he doing?” Laura asks.

“It looks like he’s gnawing on that bloodied hand.” Jack says.

“Yeah. Not the first thing I would want to put in my mouth,” I say.

For a minute, all three of us are staring at him. Finally, the dog loses interest in the hand and drops it to the floor.

I stoop down.

“Thank you,” I say to the dog as I search for his tags. I smile and pet him on the head.

“Good boy!”

The dog wags its tail.

“I can’t find any tags.”

“Well, he seems happy enough for now. He can come with us if he wants. Just don’t let him lick your face.” Jack laughs. “You know where his mouth has been.”

I turn back around to the dog, stoop down, and pat his head again.

“Do you want to come with us, boy? I bet you do. Are you hungry? Here’s a treat.”

I toss him a little piece of meat jerky from our supply. He catches it and keeps wagging his tail as he enjoys his grub.

“I guess that means he wants to come with us.”

With our new friend beside us, we start to walk down the next tunnel, and it doesn’t seem so scary this time. Looking back at the door behind us and thinking about the monsters on the other side, I wonder, “Do you think the door will hold?”

“It’s pretty solid. We should be fine,” Jack says.

“’Cause the last thing we need is those things breaking through. That won’t be good for any of us.”

“It’ll have to do, and we have to keep moving.”

Jack flips on the lights just like we did in the last tunnel. These lights here are dim too. We pull out our flashlights again.

As we start to put the excitement behind us, Laura begins to have some trouble.

“I think I’m having a panic attack or something.” Laura starts hyperventilating.

“Try to calm down a little. Take it easy. We’re fine right now. Nothing to worry about,” I say, offering her a bottle of water from my backpack. Maybe she’s just a little dehydrated?

“Why don’t we take a minute to rest and catch our breath?” Jack says. “We should check in with Logan and Bill anyway and see how they’re doing.”

Jack clicks on the walkie-talkie.

“Hello? Bill? Logan?”

Bill responds, “Everything OK over there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Everything is fine for now. Thanks for the tunnel info. We’re moving from building to building right now. Every time we try to surface, those zombies know, and all hell breaks loose.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“You two OK over there?” Jack asks.

“So far so good. We’ve turned killing these zombies into a game. We’ve been bashing them on the head and stabbing them. The best way to take them out is to hit them on the head. Hard. They’re completely disoriented for a couple of minutes, giving you enough time to get away. If you can decapitate them, even better. Right, Logan?”

“Hell, yeah!” Logan shouts in the background.

“I’ll admit it’s difficult to take their heads off with the blunt weapons we have, so disorienting them for a minute or two is gonna have to do,” Bill says.

“Glad you’re having fun. Have you met up with anyone else on campus?” Jack asks.

“Yeah. Wyatt told us about a few people who need help down here. We’ve talked with a few of them, but they’re so frightened, they just run away. We can’t make people come with us and, to be honest, there’s probably not gonna be enough room in the snowplow anyway.”

“Does anyone know what’s happening?”

“That’s a big fat no. No one knows anything.”

“Great.”

“Want the good news now?”

“Sure. I’d love some.”

“We found a couple of the snowplows,” Logan says.

“Awesome! That’s music to my ears. Great job guys!” Jack grins.

“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” I say.

“Yeah. Well. None of them is gassed up and ready to go. I don’t want to pull outta here with only half a tank. Plus, we still have to find the keys. How about you guys?” Bill says.

“We’re almost to the professor,” Jack says as I cut him off and take the walkie-talkie out of his hand.

“You OK, Jack?” Bill asks.

“We don’t know if they’re leaking our whereabouts,” I whisper to Jack. “Do you think it’s wise to tell them where we are?”

I hand the walkie-talkie back to him.

Jack nods and clicks the button. “Yeah. Fine. We found a young woman, and she’s having some issues. Back to the professor, we still have a little ways to go yet. Keep working on getting a snowplow. If things don’t seem to be going as you’d like, let us know, and we’ll see if we can snag the professor’s 4x4. Stay sharp, though. Those things can come outta nowhere.”

“Sounds good. Talk soon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Jack puts the walkie-talkie away. “We gotta keep moving. C’mon.”

7:00 p.m.

The four of us continue to walk down the long tunnel between the two buildings when Laura trips. For a second, I don’t know what happened, and I’m startled. I kneel down to see if she’s OK.

“Are you OK? What happened?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but I don’t feel so good,” Laura says.

She turns her head away from me and proceeds to vomit. The smell is putrid. Worse than anything else I’ve smelled. I guess the water didn’t help.

“She really doesn’t feel well,” I say to Jack.

“Maybe she should lay down?”

“Sure,” she says. “Maybe I just need a minute to rest.”

The dog starts growling and barking. Jack and I look around and don’t see anything that would warrant the dog freaking out. Then we notice the dog is barking at Laura.

“I have to tell you something,” she says.

Without saying a another word, she pulls up her pant leg and reveals a pretty deep bite mark. I shine my flashlight on her leg and see the bloody wound. I have to look away. It’s disgusting. It looks like a good chunk of her leg is missing. Jack and I look at each other.

“Oh no, no, no. Why would you lie to us? All we want to do is help you,” I say. “Not to mention that instead of turning into one of them, you might have just bled to death instead.”

“I didn’t know what to do, OK? It bit me, so what? I managed to get away. I thought maybe I’d be fine if I didn’t acknowledge what happened. If I stayed strong and focused on surviving, maybe I would be fine. It’s just blood after all,” she says.

“And now?” I ask, “How do you feel now?”

“And now things aren’t going as I planned. I can’t fight it anymore. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

I shine the flashlight on her face.

“Look at her,” I say as I turn to Jack.

“Her eyes are changing and the color is fading from her skin just like Jayce.”

“What do we do?” I say to Jack.

“Watch out!” He shouts as he tries to pull me away from Laura.

I feel something pinch my arm. I turn around to find Laura biting me. Luckily, I have wrapped and rewrapped my arm so many times with the duct tape, she doesn’t stand a chance of doing any damage.

She starts making the same gurgling and hissing sounds as the others.

“Not this again. What do we do?” I ask again, pleading, “We don’t know who or what’s going on around us. The last thing we need is something announcing to every crazy infected where we are.”

Jack doesn’t have any answers, so I hit her in the head with my metal desk leg. She falls to the floor. Her chest is still rising and falling so it looks like I didn’t kill her. We take our opportunity and wrap her mouth up with the duct tape so she can’t bite us any longer or make any noises. We also decide to bind her arms and legs.

“We can’t have her going anywhere right now. We know where she is, and we’ll be back to help her if we can.”

“You reacted quickly there, Jane. I’m impressed! Way to take charge!”

“Yeah, well, she bit me, and I’m tired of people trying to bite us.”

“Gotcha. Remind me not to get on your bad side. Let’s keep moving.”

Leaving Laura or whatever she is now behind, the three of us pick up the pace in order to get to the end of the tunnel. We’re almost at my professor’s building.

“This is crazy,” I say, “What’s going on here? What are we doing? This is a nightmare! When am I gonna wake up? Pinch me, OK? I want to wake up now.”

“C’mon and stay strong. Look at how far we’ve come. We only need to go a little further to grab your professor’s car and meet up with the guys. You’ve been so brave, and you totally rocked it back there. We have to keep doing what we’re doing. We gotta watch each other’s backs and move forward.”

“I know.”

“I promise we’ll get through this if we stick together, OK?” he says as he holds my face in his hands.

“Promise?”

“Yes. With my life, I promise.” He smiles.

I smile back at him.

“Ready to go?”

I nod.

The dog comes over and paws at my leg. I stoop down, and the dog licks my face and wags his tail. I guess the dog knows I need some reassurance too. Phew! The dog smells as bad as my hair did, and his breath is even worse. He totally needs a doggie breath mint or something. I open a bottle of water and wash my face off as best I can. Despite his offensive odor, I’m grateful and give the dog a nice pat on the head. I give the rest of the water to him too. Maybe it will help with his breath.

Feeling reinvigorated, I stand up, and we continue through the tunnel. After only a few minutes, we come to the end. It’s the door we’re looking for.

“OK, I don’t have much of a plan for when we walk through the door, except to ready our weapons and stick together,” Jack says. “No exploring alone. Don’t leave my side. OK?”

“OK.”

Jack stoops down to the dog’s level and says, “That means you too.”

We lightly push against the door, but it doesn’t budge. The door does feel warm, though, which is odd considering that all the other places we’ve been to are so cold.

We push the door harder and it barely moves an inch.

“We have to give it all we’ve got. Push again.”

We push as hard as we can, and the door flings open with a screech.

“That’s pretty loud,” he whispers.

We listen for anything coming for us, but all is quiet. But something else soon strikes our senses. Not one moment after we step forward into the building’s basement, we smell it.

“What is that smell?”

“Yeah. It stinks in here. Really stinks.”

“Breathe through your mouth if you have too, but we need to move.”

I try to move, but my feet are stuck to the floor.

“Oh, God. What’s that on my feet? I don’t even want to look.” I cover my eyes. “It feels so gross and sticky.”

Jack shines his light on my feet to see what’s on the floor.

“Well that’s gross,” he says. “It looks like some kind of red goo.”

“Red goo? That’s the best you can do? What is it?”

“I don’t know. Rotting something, maybe? I’m not sure. The dog seems to like it. Can you move?”

“Yeah, it’s just sticky. Like the floor in a frat house covered with beer.”

“Wait,” Jack says. “You were in a frat house?”

“Yeah. Once.”

“That’s hard to believe. You’re so... so...”

“So what?”

“So not the frat house type. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He smirks.

“Chalk it up to peer pressure. Everyone was going so I tried to be adventurous. Going just reinforced the fact that I need to stand up for myself and go my own way. I’m just not a go-with-the-flow kinda woman, I guess.”

“I hear ya. I’m not a go-with-the-flow kinda man.” He smiles at me.

I smile back.

We both walk to the staircase in the middle of the basement and began to creep up the stairs.

“C’mon boy,” he says to the dog, but the dog isn’t going anywhere. He’s still sniffing the floor. I know dogs like strange smells, but ew.

“Be careful. Whatever that stuff is, it’s covering everything in here, including the stairs. What floor is your professor on?”

“Third.”

“That figures. Let’s keep moving.”

Chapter 12

________________________________________

7:30 p.m.

Together we reach the third floor. Tired from the sticky red goo suctioning our feet to the floor the whole way up, we look around to see what appears to be blood dripping from the walls. And the vile odor is relentless, sticking inside my nostrils. Disgusting.

“Which way?” Jack asks.

“The end of the hall. This way,” I say.

“OK, lead the way.”

“Jack.”

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too, Jane. Me too,” he says as he reaches for my arm.

Walking arm-in-arm, we make it down the hallway to my professor’s classroom. The dog is still nowhere to be found. I hope he’s all right.

“Aw. Yuck. Even the doorknob is covered in that red stuff. I’m not touching that,” I complain. “It’s one of the reasons I’m not going premed.”

It’s at that moment that we are swarmed by the infected. Quickly surrounded, we have no place to run, except into the professor’s classroom. This situation seems different from our other encounters. These monsters aren’t rushing to hurt us. They’re just standing there and slowly moving in as if encouraging us to go inside.

Without a word, I pull my coat sleeve down over my hand and open the door. Jack follows, and we slam the door behind us and hold it tight. The infected don’t even try to break the door down to get us. They seem to just guard the door. I find that quite odd behavior considering our previous experiences with zombies and doors. Thinking isn’t a quality that I associate with them. These infected guys and gals are more lowbrow, baser, and more emotional creatures. They are raw in every sense of the word. But these guys seem different.

Jack and I look at each other, perplexed. Why are these creatures acting differently from the ones at the station? Or even the other ones in the other buildings? What’s different about them? Their actions seem calculated, planned even.

OK. Enough. We don’t have any more time to waste. We turn around and see the classroom and everything in it: desks, chairs, and blackboards all covered in the same disgusting red goo. Quite different from the spick-and-span classroom from the previous day. We quickly go from the classroom to the professor’s office. Once inside, I see him slouched in his chair. Motionless.

There is blood everywhere in his office. Everything is covered and dripping.

“Maybe he’s just sleeping?” I whisper.

“I don’t see him breathing. Mourn later. Look around. Let’s see if we can find something that’ll tell us what’s going on here.”

I walk around his desk so I can open and look inside his desk drawers. Jack is looking around too, keeping a good survey of the area in case we have to bolt.

“Hey, Jane. Look at this,” Jack says as he holds up a cell phone, “I think we just found out who’s been sending you those mysterious text messages.”

“Who? My professor?”

“He had another one ready to go. Death shall have no dominion.”

“What does that mean?”

“What does any of this mean? Your guess is as good as mine. He’s crazy, Jane.”

On the other side of the desk, I see my professor’s top drawer, wrap my fingers around the drawer handle, and pull it open. I spot his car keys on top.

“Found them.” I look at Jack. “I found his keys.”

I go to grab them when a hand grabs my arm. The touch is like that of an icicle, freezing.

Terror and shock run through my body. My heart is pounding. I think it’s going to pop out of my chest. I look at my arm and see my professor clutching it tight.

“Nice to see you again, Jane,” he says.

“We thought you were dead.”

“I am.”

“What are you talking about? If you’re dead, how are we talking? I know I’m not dead.”

I look at his face. He looks horrible. He is so pale. There are blood spatters all over his face and his eyes are crazy, and covered by the same white film that covered Jayce’s eyes.

“Come closer,” my professor says.

“No, that’s OK. I’m close enough. I’m fine right here.”

His grip on my arm tightens as he draws me in closer. I feel trapped. I try to pull away, but it’s pointless. He holds on tight.

“You’re hurting me, Professor. Let me go.”

Jack runs over to rescue me. When he gets within arm's length, the professor grabs him by the throat.

Struggling, Jack tries to break his grip, but the professor is strong. I see the professor slowly lifting him off the ground, choking him.

“It pays to work out,” he says.

“No!” I scream. “Stop it! Let him go!”

I try to break free so I can help Jack, but it isn’t going to happen. I can’t break his death grip, and fighting him right now is only draining my strength. He is just too strong.

The professor is relentless and stronger than any other person I’ve encountered. He’s still holding me by the arm at the same time he’s slowly lifting Jack in the air.

“Let him go!” I shout in his ear.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then he’s going to die, and it’s gonna be your fault. Let him go.”

“No.”

I continue to struggle, but his grip just gets stronger and colder—so cold that my arm starts to feel like it’s burning. It’s no use.

“Why not? What’s wrong with you? What do you want from us?”

He just stares at me.

“You’re killing him for no reason. Let him go. If you don’t, he’s gonna die. I don’t want him to die. Please let him go. Please,” I plead.

The professor throws Jack against his office wall. His body hits the wall and slides down to the floor, where he lies motionless. His head hits the floor.

I’m worried. He still isn’t moving. From this distance I can’t tell if he’s breathing. I keep watching him for any sign of movement.

“Stop looking at him. Look at me.”

“You might have killed him! I want to make sure he’s OK, and you’re preventing me from getting to him.”

“Why did you come here?”

“Isn’t this what you want? Me to come here. That’s why you sent all of those text messages, right? Well, I’m here now so tell me why all of this is happening.

“The campus is going crazy. The people who are here are running for their lives and others aren’t right, and the zombies—People are getting hurt! Tell us why this is happening so we can stop it.”

“That’s a great story, Jane, but you can’t stop it. Not now.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I have other plans for you.”

“What other plans? What are you talking about?

“All of this is happening because of you. All of the death. All of the suffering. It’s all because of you.”

“Because of me? What could I have possibly done to cause all this?”

“Ever since you came into my class, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Jane. Your hair, your lips, your eyes, your scent. You’re special and unique. Everything about you is intoxicating.”

He leans forward and inhales deeply. “But I couldn’t tell you. Professors can’t socialize with students. It’s frowned upon. Even when I decided to risk it all and offer to help you one-on-one, you ran away. Now you can’t run away. There’s no one and nothing to run away to. All you have is me now. You don’t have a choice. You’ll have to be with me. I have to have you.”

“What did you do?” I ask, not sure if I really want an answer.

“Under the guise of finding a cure for cancer, I was actually formulating a serum that when exposed to humans would re-sequence their DNA. People thought this would eliminate the cancer, and it did, but they didn’t consider the side effects, such as no longer being human.”

“So everyone is going to die?”

“Not everyone. Not you. The serum is based on your DNA, so you’re immune. Even if one of my minions were to bite you, it wouldn’t have any affect. You’d be fine.”

“My DNA? How’d you get my DNA anyway?”

“I stole the blood sample you gave to satisfy the requirements for admission.”

“What? You stole it? Are you insane?”

“No. Yes. Well, maybe. I can’t live without you, Jane. When you told me you didn’t want me, I thought you’d change your mind if no one else was left. You’d eventually have to come to me.”

“Never.”

“You’re here with me right now. You’ll change your mind.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe so, Jane. Maybe so.”

“So all those zombies chasing us, what about them? If they can’t hurt me, why are they chasing us?”

“Some of them are subjects in the testing trials for the new cancer drug we’re developing. They have cancer and are willing to do anything to fight it. Once the drug is administered, they’re under my control. They do what I say. And their instructions are to capture you and bring you here to me. As it happened, you came on own.”

“So you took advantage of innocent people?”

“No. They put themselves at risk. They were blinded by the cure. The problem was I didn’t realize the full extent of the side effects. Not only did the serum turn them into those things, but it gave them the power to turn other people simply by biting them. That’s when things really started to get out of control. When we saw what was happening, the government wanted in. They want to weaponize it.”

“I can’t believe this is happening. You’re insane.”

“Not insane. In love. I developed the serum for you. For us. No matter what bites you, you’re immune. You’ll be safe. You won’t turn like the others.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? What about everyone else? What about them? How am I supposed to feel when this plague you created takes over and everyone I care about is gone?”

“I’m only thinking about you. Only you. I guess that’s my flaw. I’m so focused on keeping you safe that I don’t think about anyone else, not even myself, which is the reason why I look the way I do.”

He pulls me closer. I’m face-to-face with him. So close I can feel his stale, musty breath on my face.

“Look into my eyes, Jane. What do you see?”

I do what he asks and look into his eyes. They seem strange to me. Hazy and dead inside.

“Well, you can still speak and articulate your thoughts. The infected we’ve run into can’t do either.”

“That’s because I developed an inoculation that keeps the virus at bay.”

“A cure?”

“No. There’s no cure. At least not yet. Just a little something to keep my symptoms under control. The side effect is that it pushes all of the corrupted cells out of my system. That’s why you see such a buildup of bio matter all over the building.”

I stand there speechless. Staring. I am in shock. This man is bat-shit crazy.

“See how much I care for you? I gave more thought to your life than my own.”

“What? That’s how you show you care?”

I try to move and see if Jack is breathing. The professor holds me tight.

“Let me go. Jack helped me. I need to help him now.”

“No, now that I have you here, I won’t let you go. Look at the disaster you caused.”

“Me? You think I caused this? You’re insane. Let me go!” I yank as hard as I can to escape his grasp. No dice. He’s too strong.

I’m exhausted and fall to my knees. I start to cry.

Still clamped onto my arms, the professor says, “You have a choice to make.”

“What?” I can barely hear him over my pounding headache.

“I see you care about him so I’ll make you a deal. If you stay here with me, I’ll let your precious Jack go—if he’s still alive, of course.”

“And the other choice?”

“You can go, but you won’t get very far. I’ll instruct my minions to go and get him. Then they’ll dispose of him. They could bite him and turn him into one of us or they could just crack his head open and have lunch.”

“You’re heartless.”

Horrified at my choices, I don’t really have one. I look over at Jack slumped on the floor. Dejected, broken, I sigh.

“You win. I’ll stay.”

I can see a smug smirk creep across the professor’s face.

“Good choice,” He says as he pulls me to my feet and draws me close.

I try to pull away, but he holds on tight. I close my eyes. Just then, I feel the professor fall away. I open my eyes and see that Jack has regained consciousness and hit the professor on the head with enough force to knock him to the floor, losing his grip on me, at least momentarily.

“Jack!” I shout.

He grabs my hand.

Chapter 13

________________________________________

8:00 p.m.

“Are you OK?”

Disoriented, I nod.

“Let’s go. We need to move. Now!”

Running out of the professor’s office, we slide, and I fall on the goo-covered classroom floor. Despite everything that Jack had been through, he’s still strong enough to help me to my feet so we can keep moving.

We come to the classroom door and look at each other and nod. We know what’s waiting for us on the other side.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.” I say as we pull our matching metal desk legs from our backpacks.

I fling open the door, and he runs through swinging. I follow him out. We find ourselves up against maybe a dozen zombies, but we’re bashing too many of them in the head to get an accurate count. Not to mention that it’s only seconds after we hit them and they fall to the floor that they get up to fight again. We’ll be overwhelmed soon.

After a couple minutes of fighting these horrible creatures, I shout, “How long are we gonna be able to keep this up?”

“As long as we have to.”

Just then, we hear a clicking sound.

“It’s the walkie-talkie. Answer it.”

“I gotta get these things off my back first.”

A voice explodes from the walkie-talkie: “Jane! Jack! Come in. Where are you? We’re gassed up and heading to North Campus in one of the snowplows.”

“It’s the guys! They’re coming for us!”

Jack goes for the walkie-talkie on his belt, but more zombies are attacking him, and he drops it.

“Shit! I can’t get it.”

Not afraid of the zombies for myself any more, I drop to the floor and retrieve the walkie-talkie. As soon as it’s in my hands, I click the button.

“We’re in Roosevelt Hall. Third floor. Hurry!”

“Yeah. Yeah. We’re on our way.”

I run to the hallway window to look for our friends in the snowplow so I can flag them down. I open the window and see the plow in the distance. I begin to flail my arms to get their attention, and then it dawns on me. While the snowplow is larger and taller than a regular car, we’re still way too high up to make the jump to it from the third floor. We’ll most certainly break our necks.

“Jack, they’re almost here. C’mon. Hurry. We gotta go down a floor.”

Smashing one of the zombies in the face with his bloodied weapon, he manages to escape the fracas and hightail it over to me by the window and the adjacent stairwell.

As he approaches, he yells, “Go!” and we scurry down the staircase to the second floor. We open the window. The snowplow makes great time. We’re right above it.

“That’s a big jump.” I say.

“You can do it. You’ll be fine.”

“No. I can’t. I don’t know how. You go first.”

He nods and makes the jump. From the look on his face, it’s not easy, but he manages to land right on top of the inner compartment where our friends are. Once he gets himself together, and I see he’s OK, he gives a thumbs up and waves for me to follow. With a deep breath, I make my jump, but I miss and almost fall off the plow. Luckily, he manages to grab me and pull me up far enough so that I can get into the cabin. He follows me inside.

Catching my breath, I see the splat I made on the side of the snowplow. The red goo stuck to the outside of the window, partially blocking our view.

“Are you bleeding?” Jack asks.

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure.”

Seconds later, we see the zombies fall from the window as they try to follow us and descend on the snowplow. It sounds like a barrage of bowling balls hitting us as they land on the plow.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

“Get this thing moving! I’m not sure how strong this metal cabin is, and I don’t want to find out,” Bill says to Logan.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m on it,” Logan replies.

“What is all over the window? And that smell?” Bill asks.

“That’s me. Sorry,” I say.

We can see the zombies making their way up to the cabin.

“Go faster!” Jack says.

“This is our top speed. We can’t go faster. We’re in a snowplow, remember? Not a sports car,” Logan says.

Some of the zombies who make it to the cabin start banging their heads and fists against the windows.

“The Plexiglas should hold,” Bill says.

“Should?!” I ask.

“Well, I don’t think anyone’s ever tested how long Plexiglas can hold up against a zombie attack,” Bill jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Sorry. I hear you. Do you think we’ll be able to make it off campus in this thing?” I ask as a follow-up.

“Not sure, but we’ll give it our best shot,” Bill says, encouragingly.

Looking out the window, more and more zombies begin to pile up. It seems as if they’re falling from the sky just like snowflakes.

“How much longer until they break the windows or disable the plow?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know,” Logan replies. “I only drove one of these bad boys as a part-time job to earn some cash.”

“Should one of us go out there and try to knock them off?” Jack inquires.

We all stare at each other. I know that isn’t going to be a popular job.

“No. We don’t need to do that. We can make it. These windows are Plexiglas. No one can smash them. The snowplow is made of metal. Nothing can stop us. Have some confidence,” Bill repeats.

“You sure?” Jack asks again.

“Yes. I believe we’ll make it off campus and figure out what’s going on. We all just need to chill out and relax. Acting crazy won’t get us anywhere,” Bill says.

I take a deep breath. Bill speaks with such confidence. Even I believe what he says. I hope the others do too.

“Crap. They may not break through the windows, but they’re beginning to block them. It’s getting difficult to see what’s in front of me,” Logan complains.

As I look through the front windshield, I see the zombies up close and personal as they all fight each other to try to break the window. Through their commotion, one of them manages to rip off the left windshield wiper. We all hear the crack of the wiper disconnecting from the vehicle.

“Umm. Did you see that? I only have one wiper left, and then we’ll have no way of clearing the snow. With the snow coming down like it is, that’s gonna make it more difficult to drive,” Logan says.

“We have to keep going,” Jack says.

“I hear ya,” Logan concurs.

We drive for a few more minutes. I can see Logan peering out of the cabin through what seems like a peephole sized window opening. That can’t be easy.

A few more minutes pass by and Logan shouts, “Hold on to something. The plow is gonna tip over!”

I grab Jack with one hand and reach for the door handle with the other. Moments later I feel the snowplow begin to fall forward. The plow tumbles over.

I scream.

Our bodies thrash against the sides of the cabin as the plow falls over. I finally land on Jack, who is on the ceiling, which is now the floor.

Disoriented, I see Jack in front of me saying something, but I can’t tell what. His mouth is moving, but it all sounds muffled to me.

It takes a couple seconds for me to get my bearings.

“We ran into some sort of ditch,” Logan says. “I didn’t see it.”

“Forget it,” Bill says, “Don’t dwell on it. Let’s keep moving. We have to stay one step ahead or else we’re gonna have problems.”

“Too late,” I say as I point out the window to the crowd of infected quickly growing in numbers.

The plow is upside down. The wheels are off the ground. We aren’t going anywhere in this thing anymore.

“We need a new plan,” Jack says.

“The plan is still to get off campus, right? We’ve just run into a hiccup,” Bill replies.

“I say we tape up and run like hell,” Logan says.

“Have you seen how many zombies are out there? Not to mention the ones we’re not seeing. They’d be on our asses the whole way. We’d never make it. Plus they’re right here,” Bill says, pointing at them through the window, “We’d be dead or worse in minutes.”

“Should we go back and try to get the professor’s 4x4?” I ask.

“No way. We can’t go back now,” Jack says.

“Well, what are we gonna do? We can’t stay here,” I say.

In our little metal snowplow box, we lay out all the weapons and materials we have on us, with the exception of my beauty products, and try to figure out our next step. Meanwhile, I can’t ignore the banging from the zombies trying to get in.

“Focus, Jane,” Jack says.

“Uh-huh. Yeah.”

I open up my backpack and rummage through it. I grab my hairspray and pick up Logan’s lighter and say, “Let’s set them on fire. It probably won’t kill them, but it should distract them long enough so we can escape, or at least get a head start.”

“Won’t that set other things on fire too?” Jack asks.

“I don’t think so. The snow will take care of it. Besides the goal is to have as little contact as possible with them,” Bill replies.

“OK. We can do that, but let’s come outta here with weapons at the ready. Bring everything we have. Once we’ve dealt with them, let’s continue north until we get off campus,” Jack says.

“And you wanted me to dump my beauty supplies,” I smile as I look at Jack, “shame on you.” He smiles back.

“Is everyone taped up? Even if you taped up before, do it again. Another layer can’t hurt,” Jack says.

We all start to tape up our arms and legs again just to be on the safe side. Jack runs out of tape, so I offer him mine.

“The professor said I’m immune. If that’s true, you’ll need this more than me.”

“Thanks, Jane.”

“OK, people, are you ready for the shit? Grab your weapons. Let’s kick some ass,” Jack says.

Jack and I grab our trusty metal desk leg weapons while Bill seems comfortable with the heavy iron pan. I give Logan back his lighter, and he takes my hair spray.

“As soon as I kick open the door, come out ready to fight. Ready?”

“Ready!” I say.

Bill and Logan nod without saying a word.

Jack slams the door open hard and fast, crushing the zombie who happened to be on the other side.

“That’s one down.” Jack jokes.

Jack and Bill come out swinging. Logan, who seems to be having a blast lighting the zombies on fire, follows them.

I’m still in the cabin watching them.

“Come on, Jane. You can do this.” I say to myself.

Tired as all heck, I finally come out of the snowplow cabin when a zombie is heading my way. I hit him in the face and watch him fall to the ground. It feels good to defend myself.

All I can hear is the constant clang of the iron pan as Bill bashes one zombie after another in the head. The bad part is that it seems to be a ringing beacon telling all their friends where to find us.

Setting them on fire doesn’t seem to help much either, except for causing momentary disorientation. Between the constant sound of the pan banging heads and the flames produced by the lighter and my hair spray, more and more of them head our way.

I run over to Jack, grab his arm, and shout to him, “We have to go. There are too many of them.”

“Head to North Campus everybody!” Jack yells.

As I turn to take my leave, something catches me by the leg and I fall. I try to get up, but he’s crawling on top of me. It takes all my strength to keep him at arm’s length. Ugh. He’s ghastly-looking, and he makes screeching sounds that are even worse.

“Jack! Help me!”

I reach for him, and he reaches for me, but he’s being overwhelmed and swinging his weapon as fast as he can to defend himself.

Out of nowhere, I hear barking. The dog! He jumps on the zombie, tearing at its head, its arms, its legs, like it’s a chew toy, distracting it enough so I can get out from underneath it and make a break for it.

Chapter 14

________________________________________

“Gotta keep moving. Gotta keep moving,” is my exhausted mantra.

Despite the fact my legs want to give out on me, I run as fast as I can to get away from the growing mob of zombies. Looking back I see Jack, Bill, and Logan aren’t far behind. As they catch up, I can see the zombies are occupied by the fire and mayhem we left behind. We’re finally able to catch our breath.

“What the shit, right? That was freaking crazy back there!” Logan says.

“Let’s pick up the pace and head up to the dorms. Once we reach them, it should only be a hop, a skip, and a jump to get to town,” Jack says.

“What about the dog?” I ask, “I don’t feel right leaving him behind. He totally saved me back there.”

Just then I hear what sounds like leaves rustling and the pitter-patter of paws on the ground.

“You might not have to,” Jack says with a smile. “It looks like your hero has arrived.”

I smile back at him and wink.

The dog runs up to me. Once he reaches my feet, he sits down and drops something from his mouth.

“Ew! Gross.” I say.

“What?” Jack asks.

“He brought me the zombie’s hand.” I say. “Ugh. That reeks. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Jack laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“That dog has a serious zombie hand fetish apparently.”

“Double ew.”

Choking back my revulsion, I pat his head and tell him, “Good boy!”

He wags his tail. Despite all this craziness, it seems that he’s in good spirits.

“This dog is so happy,” I say pointing at him. “I wanna be a dog in my next life.”

“Oh, be quiet. You’re not done with this one yet. Let’s get moving,” Jack says.

With dog in tow, the five of us head off to the dorms. Instead of running, we decide walking quickly is a better course of action since nothing is chasing us, at least nothing we know about. We need to regain our strength.

8:30 p.m.

We finally make it to one of the dorms. We walk around the building until we find an escape ladder.

“Let’s go up. I need a break. I’m really tired,” I say.

“OK, but only for a few minutes. We’ve got to keep going,” Jack replies.

Jack picks up the dog and hands him to Bill, who is already midway up the ladder. He hands him to me because I’m already on the roof.

Once the dog is safely on the roof, the rest of us decide to follow so we can rest and plan our next move without having to worry. Logan is the last one up so he retracts the ladder so nothing else can follow. I don’t know if the zombies can climb ladders, but I know we don’t want to find out.

As we rest, Jack makes sure to remind us of the basics.

“Don’t move around too much. We really don’t know how strong this roof is nor do we know what’s going on right below us.”

“Speaking of what’s going on below us, maybe we should take a peek?” Bill says.

Bill takes the initiative and leans over the side of the building so he can see into the top floor of the dorm. Both Jack and Logan are holding his legs so he doesn’t tumble over.

“OK. Pull me back up.”

“What do you see in there? Can you see anything? It’s pretty dark.” Everyone peppers him with questions.

“Those things are in there. They aren’t running around or anything, but it looks like the place is overrun,” Bill replies.

“Crap,” Jack says.

From the roof, we can almost see the entire campus. It would have been a beautiful view if it weren’t for the random packs of zombies stumbling about when they see people or hear them scream.

“We have to help those people,” I say.

“Except for what we’re seeing, we don’t know what else is going on down there. If we go back now, we won’t be able to help anyone, and we’ll be dead too,” Jack says.

“But the professor said I’m immune to all this crap. Maybe I can go and help,” I tell him.

“You might be immune if they bite you, but I wouldn’t count on that. Plus, I don’t think you’re immune if someone takes your head off or if a zombie eats you for dinner. And even if we can believe for just a moment that the professor is telling us the truth, they’d capture you in a heartbeat and take you back to him. Is that what you want?” Jack asks.

“No,” I say. “Of course not.”

“Then we have to follow through on our plan to get off campus and find help,” Jack says.

I sigh and sit down on the roof. Looking up at the sky, I stare at the snowflakes. For a moment things are peaceful.

“What happened with the professor? Didja find out why all this shit is happening?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, and you’ll never believe it,” Jack says.

As Jack tells them about what we learned when we were with the professor, I just stare off into the night sky. I really don’t want to see their faces when Jack tells them they’re stuck here because of an obsessed professor and me. This is all my fault. Maybe I should just give myself up. Maybe that would appease my professor and this mess would all go away.

Sitting on the roof, it seems like the ground is so far away. “They’re only three floors,” I say with a sigh. “But I never realized just how tall these dorms are, how vast campus is, or how sloped the land is. We can see the entire campus from here, but we still have a ways to go if we’re gonna make it off campus.”

“Yeah. Looks like it. We’re gonna have to get to the next building somehow,” Bill says to me as he put his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him, and he smiles. I smile back.

“How are we gonna get over to them?” I ask. “Should we risk getting back on the ground with those things running around or should we see if there are more underground tunnels between the dorms?”

“We were able to get over here without incident so why not try to make a break for the next building?” Logan says.

“Without incident, Logan?” Jack asks, “That’s funny because I remember things a little differently.”

“We’re all here and accounted for, right?” Logan asks. “To me that’s without incident.”

“Ah! Well consider this. If we try to hoof it, we’re gonna have to move quickly. We don’t know if there will be zombies waiting for us. They have a way of popping up when you least expect them,” Jack says.

Bill adds, “Another problem is it might take us longer to get there than we think. It doesn’t look like a long hike, but it might be longer than we expect. How far can we run before we get tired, and we’re forced to stop? I’ll tell you this; I don’t want to be cornered down there. It’s dark, and we’ll be out in the open. Vulnerable.”

“So you think going downstairs in the dorm is a better idea then?” Logan asks.

Jack replies, “There are tunnels between the classroom buildings just as Bill said. There’s a pretty good chance that we might find tunnels between the dorms too. On the other hand, entering the dorm might be troublesome too. Do we know how many students live here? Probably a lot of them. And if they’re still here and they’ve been infected, we might not even make it to the basement.”

“I hear ya. I’ll also add that it’s a lot darker in the dorm than it is outside right now. At least we have the light of the moon,” Bill says.

As I’m listening to their conversation, neither way sounded appealing. “Either way, we have flashlights,” I say.

“Yeah, good point, but a couple little flashlights don’t really take that much darkness away. It’s still gonna be fucking scary,” Bill replies.

“No doubt you’re both right. Hmmm. Does anyone have any other suggestions?” Jack asks as he looks at all of us.

No one say anything. The dog just looks at us. And the three of us look at Jack for a decision.

“So what will it be, almighty leader?” I say to Jack. “Which way?”

Chapter 15

________________________________________

9:00 p.m.

“Let’s try to keep to the rooftops as best we can,” Jack says, “I feel like there’s less of a chance of running into problems that way.”

We nod in agreement.

He says, “All of these dorms have emergency fire escape ladders, right? So let’s sprint to the very next building. Make sure we’re on the ground for as little time as possible. Then we hop from building to building until we have a clear view beyond campus.”

“But what if there are zombies milling around?” I ask. “They’ll see us.”

“Not if we create some sort of diversion in the other direction so we have a fighting chance. If we want to go this way, we’ll create a distraction that way.” Jack is pointing in a lot of different directions.

“Do you have anything we could create a distraction with?” Jack asks as he looks at me, “I know you didn’t dump everything in your bag like I said to at the radio station. Hence the hair spray.”

“We’re lucky we had that hairspray! It made Logan’s lighter into a decent weapon, after all,” I say.

“Yes. You’re right. I’m sorry for doubting you,” Jack says lightheartedly.

“But back to your original question,” I say. “I guess I can rip out pages of my notebook, the ones I didn’t write on. We can ball them up, light them on fire, and throw them the opposite way.”

“Sure we can totally do that, but just be aware my lighter won’t last much longer, OK?” Logan says. “Plus, I haven’t had a smoke in forever.”

“Chill out, Logan,” Bill says, “We hear you. And you’ll be able to smoke all you want when this is over.”

“So what’s the plan now?” I ask.

“See the ladder over there? That’s where we’re heading.” Jack points. “The plan is to quickly and quietly get down this emergency escape ladder, run to the next dorm, and get up that ladder as quickly and as quietly as we’re gonna get down this one. Everyone ready to go?”

I tear a few blank pages out of my notebook and hand them to Logan. He balls up the papers in his hand. The papers shouldn’t be balled up too much, though: we want any zombies in the area to see and follow the fireball we’re creating.

“Ready?” Logan says with the paper ball in one hand and his lighter in the other.

With a flick of his wrist, he sets the paper ball on fire and throws it to the opposite side of the dorm as far away from us as possible. Despite the darkness, we see movement. They’re taking the bait.

“Go! We don’t have much time. We gotta move now,” Jack urges.

Bill goes first. I follow. I scoot down the emergency escape and run to the next dorm’s fire ladder. Jack is close behind me, and Logan is pulling up the rear. We’re running fast and climb up the next building’s ladder just as fast. We pass the dog between us up the ladder again so he’s safe too. It’s just like playing hot potato.

We make it to the roof. We’re winded, so we sit there to catch our breath and rest for a few minutes.

“Good job. We might just make it out of this thing after all.” Jack smirks and slaps Bill on the back.

Despite our momentary success, our view off campus is still blocked. I know we’ll have to make another run so we can get to the next building. I’m not a happy camper.

“Ready to go again?” Jack asks.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” I say.

I take my notebook out again. I’m getting a little concerned because I’m running out of blank pages. I really don’t want to use the pages with my writing. I tear out a bunch of blank pages and hand them to Logan again. He follows the same protocol of balling them up, lighting them on fire, and chucking them behind us by the building we just came from.

“Let’s go again. Move it!” Jack says.

We all go down the fire escape ladder and are crossing to the next building when we see zombies heading right for us. Bill and Logan are in the lead this time and make it far enough across to bolt to the next building.

I guess we didn’t realize that since we’re in the middle of the quad now the zombies would be able to see the fireball from all angles. Unfortunately for Jack and me, the zombies come between us, and we have no choice but to retreat back to the building we came from.

“Where’s the dog?” I ask.

“I don’t know, and we don’t have time to find him. He’ll be fine. We’ve gotta go now,” Jack says as he grabs my hand.

After feverishly running back to the building and climbing back up the ladder, we see the twosome climbing the escape ladder for the building we are supposed to be on.

Once on the roof out of harm’s way, I turn to Jack. “Well that didn’t work like we thought it would.”

“No. No it didn’t.”

“I hope Bill and Logan aren’t trying to sabotage our plan and leave us for zombie snacks, especially now after you told them why all this is happening.”

“Look at me, OK? This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything, and they don’t blame you. I agree that right now trusting anyone is difficult, but we have to stay positive and keep moving. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah. I hear you. What do we do now?”

“We gotta go into the dorm. Since Plan A is out with all those zombies running around, let’s try Plan B and see if we can find those tunnels.”

We both pull out our flashlights and check them.

“Mine is still working, but it flickers sometimes. It might not last very long,” I say.

“Same here. Switch out the batteries. We brought new ones with us, right?”

“Yeah, but only enough for one flashlight.”

“Geez, that’s it?”

“That’s all there was.”

“Will that be enough? It’s dark in there. We’re gonna need both flashlights working,” Jack says. “Take the batteries from the walkie-talkie. As soon as we get to the guys on the next roof, we can switch ’em back.”

“Wait. What about Wyatt? We won’t be able to talk to him if he needs us or we need him,” I say.

“Don’t worry. We’ll switch them back as soon as possible. OK?” He says.

I nod. As soon as I go to take out the batteries the walkie-talkie clicks on.

“Hello, Jane.” It’s Wyatt’s voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“How’s it going over there?”

“Slow. We’ve run into a few more snags, but we’re still alive and a couple steps closer to finding help.”

“That’s good. The sooner you get help, the better. Being at the station alone with Connor and Abigail on the floor... the zombies walking around the station and banging into the windows and doors. I’m kinda freaking out a little. Not to mention the people calling in are hysterical. I’m not sure how much longer I’m gonna last.”

“Play some mellow music, Wyatt. Maybe some Enya or Boston? And then just chill. All right?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“That’s good. Listen, Wyatt. Jack and I are in a pinch and need to use the batteries from the walkie-talkie for the flashlight for a short time. I promise we’ll be back online soon. I promise.”

“OK.”

“You gonna be OK?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Wyatt.”

“Wait a second. I think I hear a car pulling up.”

“A car? See if you can keep tabs on it, but stay safe. We’ll be back soon. We gotta keep moving.”

After hanging up with Wyatt, Jack and I walk around the roof trying to decide the best and the quietest entry point. We find the side of the dorms that has balconies.

We stoop down on the roof, peering down on the balcony below us. Making sure we have a clear area to jump down onto without zombies trying to eat us, we sit on the side of the roof and dangle our legs over the edge. We then lower ourselves softly onto one of the balconies on the top floor.

“What dorm is this anyway?” he asks.

“I believe it’s Lincoln Hall. Ugh. That jerk Lance from the police station lives here.”

“He isn’t the nicest fellow. And that’s putting it mildly. I can see why you don’t like him.”

“You got that right. Hmmm. But...”

“But what?”

“But he plays sports.”

“Yeah, hockey.”

“And others.”

“Which others?”

“I don’t know. All of them? He probably has lots of sports equipment in his dorm room. Crap like bats and stuff.”

“We better hope he didn’t snag them or else it might not be the windfall we’re hoping for. But, yeah. A bat would make a nice weapon.”

“Yes, it would. Easier to grip than these metal desk legs we’ve been toting around. My hands are killing me.” I stretch out my fingers with a groan.

“Shh,” Jack hisses as he turns his attention to the sliding glass door in front of us. He carefully opens it to gain entrance to the dorm. He goes in. I follow.

Flashlight in one hand, desk leg in the other, we tiptoe through the dorm room. We open the door to see what we can see of the hallway. It’s just as dark, if not darker than the dorm rooms.

Once in the hallway, Jack whispers to me, “Use your flashlight. Check the doors. Most of these rooms will have a sign telling who lives there—at least they did when I lived in the dorms.”

“Right. Good thinking. I forgot about that. They do that in my dorm too.”

“Look for his name on the doors so we can find his room.”

“I can do better than that,” I say. “He’s in room 342.”

“OK. Let’s go down the hall and look at each door. You take the left. I’ll take the right. Keep your eyes peeled. We don’t want to run into any surprises.”

The two of us start down the dark hallway looking at the room numbers and names on the doors.

“No.”

“Nope.”

“OK, keep moving.”

We get to the second set of doors.

“Not this one.”

“No.”

We’re half way down the hall before I spot his name and room number.

“Found it!”

“Shh!” Jack says.

He grabs the doorknob, “It’s not locked. Get inside.”

We rush inside Lance’s dorm room and close the door behind us.

“If the radio station taught us anything, it’s that these zombies will find us eventually. We have to move quickly. Shine the light around and pray we find a baseball bat or a hockey stick or something we can use.”

As I spin around shining my light, I spy something in bed against the wall. I walk over to the bed and shine my light on the ceiling to illuminate the room.

“Bingo! There are a couple of metal baseball bats over here,” Jack says as he picks one up and grips it. “Aw, this feels much better.”

“Oh, my God,” I mumble as I cover my mouth.

“What?”

“It’s Stefan.”

“Who’s that?”

“Lance’s drunk, asshole roommate. He’s here.”

“Is he alive?”

“I don’t know.” I giggle. “He’s not moving.”

“What’s so funny?” Jack asks.

“Lance said he wanted me to come to his room, and now I’m here, and he’s not. It’s just funny is all,” I say.

My attention turns to the door. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? No. Just focus, Jane. Search the room for more sports equipment. We might have hit the jackpot here.”

I go to the closet and find a couple hockey sticks, a wooden baseball bat, and a lacrosse stick.

“Check under the bed too.”

I get on my hands and knees and shine the flashlight under the bed.

“There’s another baseball bat and a duffle bag under here,” I say.

“OK, let’s get going. I think we’ve found just about everything that can help us here.”

A moaning noise comes from the bed right above me.

“Oh shit,” I say as I look up slowly, “That’s Stefan. Stefan?”

No answer.

Again, I try to speak to him.

“Stefan? Are you OK?”

He turns his head toward me and makes a horrible shrieking sound.

He goes to bite me, and I recoil. Pivoting around, I pick up Lance’s metal bat and swing, smashing his head apart.

“Wow! That is impressive! What got into you?”

“He was a complete asshole to me earlier and then tries to give me a hickey on a first date? No way.”

“Uh. Are you OK?”

“Yeah. All this zombie stuff is just—I just need to get some sleep and recharge. My nerves are frazzled.”

“Are you ready to go back out there?”

“Ready? No, but we can’t stay here. We have to get to the basement, right?”

“Wait,” he says. “Give me the duffle bag. Put everything in the bag, and I’ll strap it to my back so we can take all this stuff with us. The guys should appreciate our windfall.”

We open the door and peek both ways down the hall.

“Coast is clear,” Jack says, giving me a thumbs up. We tiptoe quickly to the end of the hallway and take the stairs all the way down to the basement. With flashlights in hand, we find the entrance to the tunnel and make our way across to the other building.

The tunnel is clear too. No zombies. Nothing to trip us up, which is a nice change. Once we reach the basement of the adjacent building, we run as fast as we can to the stairwell on the side of the building.

Halfway up the stairs, I need to stop and catch my breath.

“Hold on. Give me a minute.” I’m panting and bent over, trying to get as much oxygen as possible into my lungs.

“We can stop for a minute or two, but that’s it until we hit the roof. I don’t want to find out what’s going on in this dorm.”

“OK. I’m good,” I say. “Let’s go.”

We wind our way around the stairwell and are on the top floor. Bats in hand, we peek inside one of the dorm rooms and find it empty. We run across the room to the balcony and open the sliding glass doors. Once outside, we’re able to pull ourselves up to the roof and rejoin our group.

“You made it!” Logan says.

We smile and then something dawns on me.

“Crap! Put the batteries back in the walkie-talkie.”

9:30 p.m.

I click the talk button.

“Wyatt. Are you there? Wyatt?”

No answer.

“Hey! Are you OK over there?” I say louder.

“Yes. Yes. I’m here. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“What’s going on?”

“Listen. Good news and bad news. The good news is that the military is monitoring our communication and they’re coming to rescue us here, and they’re gonna go help you next.”

“Oh, my gosh! That’s amazing. And the bad news?”

“They’re dropping a bomb to destroy all the infected on campus. Everyone needs to get off campus within two hours. Where are you on North Campus?”

“Washington Hall. When will they be here?”

“Soon. Stay put, OK? Everything is gonna be OK, Jane. But, just in case, I’ve patched this walkie-talkie into the radio station’s hard line. Whatever we say on these walkie-talkies now is being transmitted over the air.”

“Wait. What? Why?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, Wyatt. I did.”

“We’re gonna be clearing out soon, but people are still on campus, and we need to continue reaching them. You can let everyone know what’s going on here. Where they can find you. You can get them to safety. Can you do that, Jane?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I can do that.”

“Well then, the radio station is yours.”

“See you soon.”

The line goes dead. I’m standing on the roof of the dorm holding the walkie-talkie, stunned.

“Everything is gonna be all right?” I ask.

“If what he says is true, it seems so,” Jack replies as he high-fives with Bill.

“Are you fucking serious? We could have stayed at the radio station instead of trekking all across campus?” Logan complains vehemently.

“We didn’t know what was gonna happen. We just need to chill out and wait here,” Jack says. “Someone will come along to collect us soon.”

I click in the button again and plead, “Is this thing working? If anyone can hear me. If anyone is still on campus, get off now. Don’t worry about your things; just grab a coat and run. I am told that campus has been completely overrun with zombies and that the only way to clear the area is to destroy it. If you’re on campus you can join us on the roof of Washington Hall on North Campus, and we’ll get you to safety.”

I take my finger off the talk button and put the walkie-talkie back in my bag.

Perched high on the roof, I embrace Jack. Bill and Logan shake hands and are patting each other on the back.

If we stay quiet, we can probably remain on the roof without worry.

Chapter 16

________________________________________

10:00 p.m.

Exhausted from not sleeping for over twenty-four hours, I close my weary eyes, just for five minutes. That’s all I need. When I jolt awake, Jack’s arm is wrapped around me. I guess he’s tired too, but my movement startles him. He jumps to his feet.

“How long have we been asleep?” he asks.

Bill looks at his watch. “At most twenty-thirty minutes. Don’t worry. We’re fine.”

“How could you let us sleep for so long? What if a zombie tried to attack?” I ask as I stand up and put on my backpack.

“Chill out. From what you told me, I don’t think zombies can climb. Plus, no one has come for us yet. I guess things are taking longer than they thought.” Bill looks around. “It’s dark out, but we’re keeping watch as best we can.”

“Ah!” Logan jumps. All three of them are staring at me.

“What?” I say as I turn around.

“You don’t think I would give up that easily, do you?” the professor says.

“Where did you come from?” Jack blurts out.

I’m terrified to see the professor standing over me. He looks worse than before. Creepy eyes. Bleeding sores. Gray skin. Not to mention his breath is putrid. I don’t want to think about what he’s been eating.

I go to the edge of the roof and look down. A swarm of zombies surrounds us. The only way out of this mess is to fight our way out or somehow hit the underground tunnels again, but how will the military rescue us if we leave? The professor caught us totally off guard here. I take a step back to rejoin the guys.

“Don’t be foolish, Jane.” He steps closer to me. “There’s no escape. No rescue. My minions have the building surrounded. Let’s make a deal, shall we?”

“What are you talking about? A deal?”

“Come with me, and I’ll make it easy for them,” he says as he stretches out his hand. “Think of it as one life to save three.”

So many thoughts are running through my head. I don’t want to go with him, but I also don’t want him to hurt Jack, or anyone else for that matter.

“Professor. Benjamin. So if I go with you now, you’ll leave them alone?”

“Yes.”

Jack is shaking his head. “Don’t do it, Jane. You don’t have to. The military should be here soon, and we can still fight.”

“We don’t know when they’re gonna get here. And last time, we barely got away alive.”

I sigh. How can I trust anything my professor says? Do I even really have a choice at this point? After a few minutes of thinking over my choices, I blurt out, “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

“No!” Jack yells.

“That’s music to my ears!” the professor says as he grabs me and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. With all the commotion, I forget that I still have my backpack, and yet I’m still as light as a feather to him.

The professor proceeds to run over to the emergency escape ladder and slide down into a group of his minions, all with me on his back. He starts running in the direction of his building. His zombie hordes are keeping pace right alongside us.

I open my eyes and look back at the rooftop. I can see Jack standing there staring, bat in hand, trying to comprehend what just happened. Some of the zombies remain around the building, surrounding it.

“You said you’d leave them alone!” I yell at the professor. “Tell your zombies to leave my friends alone.”

“I’m not doing anything to them. I can’t help it if they’re hungry and it’s past their dinner time.”

“You lied to me. Let me go. The deal is off!” I say as I try to kick him.

“That’s one of the reasons why I want you, Jane. You’re quite the feisty one.”

Before I lose the building in the distance, I see a camouflaged helicopter fly over the dorm. It reminds me of the military vehicle I saw earlier. I wonder what is happening to Jack.

I don’t know what is happening to me. I feel sick to my stomach being with the professor. I don’t know what he is capable of.

As the professor marches back to his classroom, his zombies continue to follow like he is their leader in some sick, perverted army.

Part way back, we stop.

“I must rest for a minute,” he says as he puts me down. We are surrounded by infected, so I’m not going anywhere. The professor then pulls out a cylindrical container from his pocket and clicks on a needle. He injects some sort of fluid into his neck.

“What’s that for?” I ask.

“You know what it’s for. It’s so I can keep my faculties and function.”

“So why not give it to all your zombies here and help them?”

“It’s much too late for them. Besides, I can’t possibly make that much.”

He stands up straight. Whatever that stuff is seems to give him a boost.

“OK. Question and answer time is over,” he says.

He picks me back up, throws me over his shoulder again, and he sprints forward.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Back to my classroom, of course. You won’t have to worry about anything from now on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that once we’re joined, you’ll be mine for all eternity.”

“Wait! I didn’t agree to that!”

“You agreed to come with me so I wouldn’t hurt your friends.”

“Which you didn’t do.”

“If you remember, I didn’t do anything to them.”

“You’re such a liar. And there’s no way I’m gonna be with you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

As I’m being jostled around on his shoulder, I’m thinking about Jack. I should have stayed and fought instead of giving myself up so easily, but I was trying to save him.

The professor's zombie entourage is getting larger as we continue back to Roosevelt Hall. He’s hauling me with him to the gates of hell, his demon minions closing around us. Perched on the devil's shoulder, I am powerless to fight or flee.

Chapter 17

________________________________________

11:00 p.m.

I open my eyes. As I look around, I can tell I’m face down on the professor’s classroom floor. The moonlight peeks through the windows, illuminating his dark and odious hideaway. Did I pass out? As I look up, I see zombies surrounding me. Oddly enough, my backpack is still on my back. Trying not to move or attract attention, I slide a hand inside my bag for my walkie-talkie.

And that’s when it hits me. The smell. It’s horrible. Nauseating and vile, but familiar. It’s so bad I have trouble breathing through my nose. I do my best to just use my mouth to suppress my gag reflex.

It’s then that I feel something sticky on my hands and face. Is it my blood? Am I bleeding? Or is it from the professor? I can’t tell. Are these zombies students just like me who got tangled up in the professor’s sick game? I don’t know.

What I do know is that they don’t attack me. They just stand there in a circle, surrounding me.

The perimeter around me isn’t exactly complete. When I see a break in the zombie chain, I stand up and decide to make my way to it. As soon as I approach, though, another zombie steps in to fill the gap. I back away. The stench is overpowering.

“I know you’re here,” I say.

No reply.

If I am going to die here, I’m not going down without a fight, and I want the whole world to hear. I click my walkie-talkie.

“Hello?”

Still nothing.

“I guess I’m not going anywhere.”

“That depends,” the professor's voice finally says.

“Depends on what?”

“On whether your rescuers are successful or not. I vote not. I didn’t do all this for them to take you away from me. I sacrificed myself, my students, and so many others to get you. My army and I will stop them and you’ll join us. Don’t be afraid, Jane. It’s our destiny.”

“Our destiny?”

“Hear that? That’s the helicopter coming to rescue you.”

“Yes. I hear it.”

I definitely hear that chopping sound coming closer and closer. And then a blindingly bright spotlight illuminates the classroom, and I can see the professor clearly. For a moment, my professor and I just stand there listening. If this is his hideout, there is nowhere else to go.

We hear a loudspeaker click on. It’s Jack!

“Professor. You’re a smart guy. Don’t be a fool. Give yourself up. The authorities want to work with you. They want to help you and your followers. They don’t want to destroy you, but they will if you make them.”

“Never!” the professor shouts up into the air, “Giving up is failure. I won’t tolerate failure.”

The chopper sounds are getting closer and louder. Within seconds, we hear a thud on the roof. I turn around and see four military guys drop from the ceiling, weapons at the ready. One of them is the soldier I spotted a couple days ago on campus. He’s at the front of the pack, handgun pointed. As they move closer, I see Jack behind them. Stunned to see him risking his life yet again for mine, I’m held hostage by fear. I don’t want him to get hurt. I try to get to him, but I’m still trapped in the circle.

“Will you give yourself up and cooperate with us?” the soldier guy asks the professor.

“Never!” the professor yells. He motions with his arm, and his swarm of infected begin stumbling toward the military foursome.

“Tell your followers to stand down, Professor!”

The professor laughs.

“Tell them to stop or else we’ll have to open fire.”

With one hand signal to the rest of his team, the military guys open fire. The zombies closest to them are taken out first. It’s a violent, macabre sight. Arms, legs, and heads fly across the room as if in slow motion.

I’m worn out. Exhausted. Everything happening around me at this point seems like just a really bad dream. I am in a haze.

The shooting stops. The first round of zombies is lying in bits and pieces on the floor.

“Ah! Welcome! You’re just in time,” the professor says, not particularly phased by the turn of events.

“In time for what?” Jack asks as he moves to the front of the pack.

“The ceremony, of course. Jane and I, we’re to be joined as one for all eternity.”

As he walks closer to me, the zombies still standing open the circle for him. The professor steps inside the snarling zombie circle and grabs my arm. His grip is tight.

“When I bite her,” he says. “She’ll be mine forever.”

“No. No. No!” I say. “I thought you said I was immune to bites.”

“I lied,” he says. “After I bite you, I’ll make enough of the serum so we both can stay lucid.”

I look at Jack and start to cry.

“Let me go!” I struggle against his hold.

“Too bad you and your friends can’t stay,” the professor tells Jack.

With a wave of his hand, his second swarm of zombies breaks the circle around us and starts walking toward Jack and his new military friends.

As the fighting continues, a couple of the zombies corner one of the military guys who is reloading. The rest keep their distance. Maybe it’s the smell? As they get closer to the lone military guy, he drops his gun and pulls out his long knife. He manages to stab one of them in the throat and his buddy shoots the other one in the head.

“Thanks!” he shouts as he rejoins his team.

Jack runs to pick up the weapon. As gunshots began to fly through the air again, I try to get to the floor. I pull against the professor’s grip, but I can’t break free. I’m too tired. He’s too strong. Why won’t this day end?

I look back at Jack again and see him looking at me. His voice booms louder than the zombie shrieks and gunfire across the room: “Duck, Jane! Get down!”

The professor keeps his tight grip and begins dragging me to his office. As we begin to cross the threshold, I see Jack take aim and start to squeeze his trigger-finger.

I still have the professor’s pen in my bag. I pull it out and, with all the strength I can muster, stab the professor in the leg.

“Here’s your pen back, Professor!”

Clearly feeling the pain, he loosens his grasp on me enough that I can pull free. A single bullet hits the professor from behind, and his head explodes in a gory splatter. I fall to the floor.

11:15 p.m.

I open my eyes. Jack is looking down at me and holding me in his arms. He’s smiling.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hello, beautiful,” he replies.

“Is that the military guy from campus?” I ask as I look over at him. Not only is he wearing his familiar fatigues, but this time he’s also decorated with what looks to be an arsenal of guns and weapons.

“Yeah, he’s military. His name is Chris. Listen, I couldn’t leave without you, and he and his friends said they would help. They said you were dead, but I never believed it. I knew you were still alive.” He turns and smiles at his military teammate.

“Did you get off campus? Did the sickness spread?”

“No, at least not yet. We need to get moving, though. The military is getting ready to bomb campus.”

“Bomb? No, no. They can’t. Not yet. The professor injected himself with something to keep himself from completely turning into a zombie,” I say as I sit up.

“What? Where is it?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me, but we have to find it.”

Jack helps me up.

“How much time do we have?” I ask.

“Twenty minutes.”

“That’s not gonna be enough time, Jack! I don’t know where it is, but we have to look. We have to try. We have to make time. What about the students still on campus who are afraid and hiding?”

Chris whispers into what seems to be his hidden communication device, “Hurry up, guys. Grab it so we can get moving.”

“Use the walkie-talkie. We’ve got to try to warn everybody one last time to get off campus and it’s the best we can do right now,” Jack says.

I grab my walkie-talkie and click the talk button.

“This the final broadcast from campus radio 97.5 FM WZOM. My name is Jane. I’m an overnight DJ. I’ve been helping combat a zombie infection that has broken out because of Professor Benjamin Carter. It’s spread campus-wide. We can’t fight it. We can only destroy it. That’s the only way. If you can hear my voice, you have to listen to me. Get off campus now. You don’t have much time left. Minutes maybe. And then the military is gonna drop a bomb to purge the area. Be brave, and run like your life depends on it because it does. This will be the last broadcast you hear on this station. Godspeed.”

After that, Jack grabs my hand, and we run. As fast as we can, we follow Chris and his team out of the building. The same helicopter I saw when the professor was taking me away is right outside waiting for us. We hop into the helicopter and are greeted by Logan and Bill. The dog licks my face.

As we’re waiting to take off, the rest of Chris’s rescue team hops into the helicopter with us. One of the guys is carrying an odd-looking case.

“What is that?” I ask.

“That’s classified, ma’am,” he replies.

The rest of Chris’s team piles into the helicopter. Chris doesn’t follow them.

“I have to find out what happened to my Marie!” he shouts with a desperate look in his eyes. “I’m gonna stay and search for her.”

Jack says, “We can stay and help you.”

“No, you’re civilians. Get to safety. We’ll be fine.”

Jack and Chris shake hands. Jack says, “Thank you, Chris. Good luck. I hope you find her.”

He smiles. Chris doesn’t come with us.

As we fly to safety, we see people fleeing campus on foot and others hopping into military aircrafts.

The campus begins to fade from our view. Despite the distance growing between campus and us, we see buildings on campus explode. It looks like slow-motion the way all the wood, stone, and concrete are flying apart in the air. I can’t believe what’s happening. Jack holds my chin with his index finger and thumb and turns my head so I’m facing him, not the devastation behind us.

“We made it. I told you we’d be fine,” he says.

“Yes, you did. You believed in us from the beginning.” I smile.

CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE

Jane’s life changes forever when a technical mishap at work reignites the undead epidemic. Now, torn between her humanity and giving in to the darkness, she struggles to keep her sanity.

In a race against time, can Jane and her bunch of unlikely allies escape the zombie onslaught, get to safety, and save themselves from the sickness?

Rotting Rage is the second book in the Jane Zombie Chronicles, a series of undead adventures. If you like zombie fiction that’s action-packed, fast-paced, and entertaining, then you’ll love Rotting Rage.

Buy Rotting Rage to experience the sickness today!

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Thank You

________________________________________

For taking this journey with me, I can’t thank you enough!

I hope you enjoyed reading my debut zombie novel. If you have time, one of the best ways to help me write more books is to leave a review on Amazon. It would mean the world to me.

Also, I encourage you to tell your friends, family, and anyone else who would enjoy a good zombie story!

Again, thank you so much for buying my book and supporting me!

Best,

Gayle

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About the Author

Born and raised outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Gayle discovered her passion for zombies when her husband introduced her to video games in 2009.

Gayle writes about the undead because they scare the bejesus out of her and she likes it! She’s also an advocate for always facing your fears as she’s an author of self-help, nonfiction too.

CLOSED CAMPUS is her debut fiction novel and the first book in the Jane Zombie Chronicles.

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Table of Contents

- Closed Campus
- FREE Zombie Mini Adventure
- Thank You
- About the Author