Lunch was the same as always—loud, chaotic, and weirdly fluorescent.
I sat alone, corner table by the vending machines. Not sad about it, just... used to it. My tray held a limp burger, soggy fries, and an untouched apple I'd probably trade later. I poked at the burger half-heartedly, replaying Alicia's voice in my head.
"You okay? "She didn't have to ask. She didn't have to care. But she did. And that meant something.
I glanced across the cafeteria, and there she was—sitting at her usual table with her friends. She looked up, just for a second, and our eyes met. I looked away first. Classic me.
Then—every phone in the cafeteria buzzed at once. Hundreds of devices going off like an angry swarm of bees. That sound. You know it. Emergency alert. Shrill and vibrating deep in your spine.
Everyone froze.
I pulled out my phone. Emergency Alert: Government Advisory"Shelter in place. Do not leave your current location. CDC investigating possible airborne viral outbreak in your area. Symptoms include aggressive behavior, fever, and hallucinations. Avoid contact with infected persons. Updates will follow."
Laughter broke the silence first.
"Pfft, what is this—another COVID prank?" someone said near me.
But it wasn't funny. Not really. The second alert hit thirty seconds later.
Emergency Alert: This is NOT a drill. Repeat: this is NOT a drill.
People looked at each other. The noise level dropped. Eyes flicked toward windows, toward the teachers near the doors, toward phones shaking in trembling hands.
I looked back at Alicia. She wasn't laughing. She was reading the alert, her brows furrowed, lips pressed tight.
She knew.
Something was wrong. Really wrong.
Then a girl near the middle of the cafeteria stood up—staggered, actually. She gripped her tray like she couldn't feel her fingers. Her nose was bleeding. Badly.
She dropped the tray. And started screaming.
The second alert still burned on my screen when the first scream tore through the cafeteria.
Not the usual kind. Not drama. Not teenage angst. This one was raw. Animal.
A girl's tray clattered to the floor—metal on tile, echoing like a shot. She backed into a table, knocking over a milk carton, her mouth wide but her voice choked.
Another scream joined hers. Then another. Students jumped from their seats, chairs screeching. Trays flew. Feet scrambled. Voices shattered into chaos.
I stood up. But I didn't move. I couldn't.
My breath caught in my throat as I saw it—him.
A man. Or... something that used to be one. He stumbled through the cafeteria doors, blood slicking his chin like oil. His clothes hung in tatters. A chunk of something—flesh?—hung from his teeth.
A teacher ran at him. The man lunged. There was a crack—something snapping. The teacher dropped, convulsing.
The thing lifted its head.
Eyes. Empty. But locked onto mine.
For one heartbeat—one frozen, dying heartbeat—it was just me and it. The world blurred. Screams muffled. All I saw was that face.
Then it sprinted.
Straight at me. Arms pumping. Mouth open. A gurgled snarl ripping from its throat.
I couldn't move. Couldn't even blink. My feet rooted like stone. The blood drained from my limbs. The tray in my hand slipped, crashing to the floor.
"Shino!!"
Alicia's voice—sharp, clear—sliced through the noise. My name, desperate. Commanding.
It broke the spell. I moved. Not a step—more like a lurch. Instinct. Terror.
The thing flew past me, missing by inches, crashing headlong into the vending machine with a metallic THUD.
I gasped. Stumbled. Alicia grabbed my arm, her eyes wild.
"We have to MOVE!"
The hallway outside the cafeteria was warzone-level chaos.
Bodies slammed against lockers. Screams bounced off tile and glass like ricocheting bullets. Some kids ran. Others just stood, frozen, mouths open, eyes wide—waiting to die or wake up.
The emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
Off.
Red.
Off.
Every pulse of light made the blood on the floor shine brighter.
I clutched Alicia's hand like it was the only real thing in the world. Her grip was strong. She wasn't panicking—yet. But her breathing was ragged, fast. Like mine.
"Where do we go?!" I yelled over the shrieking chaos.
"West wing! Exit near the science labs!" she shouted. "It's closest to the lot—your dad's truck, right?"
I nodded, my voice stuck behind a wall of fear.
We ran.
Down the hall, past a trail of discarded backpacks and overturned desks. Someone had dropped their phone—it buzzed on the floor, looping the same emergency alert again and again.
Ahead, a boy—Caleb, I think—was slamming his fists on a locked classroom door, screaming for someone to let him in. Behind him, something fast crawled along the lockers on all fours. It didn't run. It skittered. And then it pounced.
I looked away. Alicia pulled me faster. We turned a corner—nearly tripping over a fallen teacher. Ms. Ridgeway. Her face was pale, her leg bent the wrong way. She reached out, mouthing something.
"Help... me..."
I stopped. My chest caved in with guilt.
Alicia yanked me. "No time, Shino!"
Something crashed behind us—a shattering window, maybe—and then came the growl. Not human. Not even close.
We sprinted again. Our feet slapping the tile, lungs burning. The science wing smelled like bleach and blood. The lights here flickered worse, almost strobing. Up ahead, the doors to the west exit.
Locked. Of course.
"Back way!" Alicia gasped, grabbing a mop handle from a janitor's cart. "Help me break the glass!"
She swung once—CRACK!—the safety glass spiderwebbed. Again—CRACK!—it shattered inward.
Behind us, the pounding of feet. Screams. That inhuman screech again, close.
We didn't think. We climbed through the shards and dropped into the open air—out into the gray, trembling afternoon.
The world was ending.