This is an experimental story that may become part of a chain of stories in the future. If it works out, essentially this will be the first tale in what I will be calling "The Dream Project".
These stories are in fact written from my own dreams. Sometimes I watch an awful lot of movies in one hit (say, four to five in one day), and this results in very detailed dreams that are not only more vivid, but actually play out like movies themselves. This includes flashbacks, cutting to different locations, plot lines and character development! Strange, I know, and I normally wake up completely exhausted.
This first story was dreamt after a large Zombie Movie Marathon (including Saw, Shaun, and Land of the Dead and 28 Days Later). It was so interesting that upon awakening, I forced myself to remember everything about it.
The story is presented in the same way it was dreamed, including the flashbacks. The only thing embellished on dialogue because A: it's impossible to remember the exact dream dialogue, and B: the story needs to make sense.
For those reasons, certain scenes may seem a bit... strange. Hopefully this will serve to make the story unique, or at least that's my hope.
The door opened with a crash as the lock finally gave under Steve's weight. We quickly stumbled inside and slammed it shut behind us, breathing heavily.
"Did they see us?" Lucy gasped.
"I don't think so," I replied, peering out a window and seeing nothing moving among the half-grown corn stalks. "They'd be after us by now if they had."
We let out a sigh of relief and looked around the room we'd just entered. It was a kitchen, though it looked a little worse for wear. Plates of maggot eaten food sat on the table, while rock-hard bread crawling with small black insects lay on the countertop. Lucy ran to the fridge and peeked in hopefully. An unbearable stench immediately invaded our noses, and she slammed it shut again.
"Ew... I guss we won'd be haffing lungch today," Lucy said sadly, her voice distorted from holding her nose.
"Guess so," Steve grimaced. "Let's check out the rest of the rooms. We don't want to be caught off guard."
He moved towards a nearby door, and motioned for us to get behind him. We did so obediently; we knew the drill by now. The bloodied aluminium bat quivered tentatively in Steve's hands. My slightly-bent iron bar was doing much the same.
"If there's more than one, you two get the hell out of here," Steve whispered. Lucy and I nodded, though in our hearts we knew we wouldn't run. We wouldn't have made it that far without his help; there was no way we were going abandon him now.
Steve gripped the door handle and slowly twisted it, trying to make as little noise as possible. Carefully, ever so gently, he opened the door a crack. Just enough to peer inside. He gazed into the room for a good thirty seconds; watching, listening. Finally he let out a whoosh of tension held air, and nodded towards us.
"Nothing," he said, opening the door wide. "Not even signs of a struggle. The place must be empty."
Lucy and I relaxed. Thank god, I really hadn't been in the mood for a fight. We followed Steve through the doorway into what seemed be a lounge room. An ancient TV sat against one wall, an even older couch against the other. There was a dusty, spider web covered bookcase and a bulbless lamp as well. It was what I'd expect from a farmhouse, really.
"Alright! Couch!" Lucy cried.
She ran and jumped on it, expecting the cushions to launch her back up. Instead, the entire thing collapsed in a cloud of dust, all four legs snapping at once.
"Aw. Damn," Lucy coughed, rubbing the grit from her eyes. I gave her an irritated scowl.
"Damn, Sis, can't you stay quiet for awhile? You make enough noise to wake the..." I stopped. That's not a phrase I could use anymore.
"Give her a break," Steve said softly, opening another door carefully and peering inside. "She's just trying to find some fun in the situation. Lord knows we need too."
With the next room thoroughly checked, Steve seemed more content. He went over to the TV and flicked on the power switch. It crackled to life, the tube remaining black for a good ten seconds before warming up enough to show a picture.
"Anything?" I asked, only a mild tinge of hope in my voice.
"Same as always," Steve answered. He switched from channel to channel, but each one bore the same message. 'Out of Service'. He turned it off, admitting defeat.
I walked to the window and stared out. At last, somewhere to rest. We'd been running for three days now, and barely had any sleep. And although I didn't feel any safer in a tiny farmhouse then I did in the other homes we'd sort refuge in, at least we had a good view.
"Houses on stilts. God love 'em," Steve said, appearing beside me.
"Yeah..." I agreed. From here we could see the whole farm. Acres of corn lay just outside, not ten feet from the farmhouse stairs. It would have made a beautiful picture if I wasn't so worried about what those tall stalks might hide. In the middle of the field sat an abandoned tractor, its door swinging lazily in the breeze. It looked like whoever had been using it must have left in a hurry.
"Wouldn't make the best getaway vehicle, but at least we know its there," Steve nodded.
Far beyond the field was the mountain we were originally headed for. There was a military base on its peak, or so the repeating voice on the radio told us.
"This is Mount Blancmore Military Base. We are heavily fortified and have enough food rations to support a small community. All survivors; if you can make it here, do so! If you have any weapons or engineering skills, make this known immediately. Do not come if you have sustained any kind of mouth to flesh injury. I repeat: do not attempt to find us if you have been bitten. You will be shot on sight. This is Mount Blancmore Military Base. We are heavily fortified ..."
It was as promising a haven as any. We had resolved to get there, no matter what. Until yesterday we could even see the giant radio tower, glinting above the trees. But sometime during last night the clouds had come in and the mountain's peak had completely disappeared from view. We couldn't find the repeating voice again on any frequency. Our distant hope faded into a sense of foreboding, but we continued on anyway. We didn't have anywhere else to go.
"Think they're still alive up there?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. I was right to do so. Steve just continued to stare, his mouth drawn into a thin lipped frown.
None of that mattered, of course, if we couldn't actually make it to the mountain. Just past the field lay the reason we'd fled to the farmhouse in the first place. A massive, three hundred meter long ditch had been gouged into the ground, part of it running through a fence and into the cornfield. At its end, in one twisted, mangled heap, lay the remains of a 747 Boeing passenger jet. The plane had been completely ripped in two; everything from the midsection down had torn away, probably smashed up in a suburb some miles back. When we found it there'd been bodies strewn everywhere. Only a few were up and wandering about. We didn't know if they were survivors or something else, but we didn't want to take the chance. I squinted, searching the wreckage now for any signs of them coming this way. Nothing. Not yet.
I sighed and went over to the collapsed couch, sitting down heavily. Lucy watched me as I put the iron pipe down beside us and tried to get comfortable. Poor girl. She was putting on a brave face, but I could tell she was nearing the end of her tether. There were dark rings under her eyes, and every inch of her hair was knotted or tangled. For someone who used to spend so much time in front of the mirror, I knew it must have been driving her nuts.
"You look tired," I smiled, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Take a rest. Me and Steve can keep watch."
"Yeah... man, I really need a bath," she laughed, even though her eyes were watering. She curled up on the couch beside me, sniffing softly. "I haven't had a decent wash since before..." her voice trailed off.
I closed my eyes, thinking back to the warm showers and wonderful breakfast we'd had the morning before everything went wrong. Eggs, bacon, toast, butter. You don't realise how much you take for granted until it's torn from your reach.
"Yeah. I still blame those damn news reports. They should have warned us earlier. Told us to get out while we had the chance, instead of urging us to 'continue our everyday activities as normal '."
"I don't think they really believed what was happening," Steve answered me from his spot by the window. "I know I didn't. We have nothing to blame but whatever virus or animal or mad scientist caused this to happen. We'll probably never know though. We won't live long enough."
I sighed. Steve was right. Even if we did find out what started it all, there'd be no way to use that information. It was too late, too widespread. And soon there'd be no one left to care.
"It happened too fast," Lucy said sleepily. "Everything's been moving since we left the school. I haven't had time to feel sad about... about our friends, or having to leave home. I've just felt... scared and numb."
"I know that feeling," I agreed. "This is the first time we've been able to slow down. I'm exhausted."
Steve looked over at us and smiled. I could swear the lines in his face looked deeper. He'd been thirty seven when we met him, two nights ago. Now, he looked forty five.
"Take a break, kids," he said. "I'll stand guard. It's the least I can do; you saved me after all."
"Thanks," we said simultaneously. Lucy curled up tighter on the couch, and I allowed myself to relax also. It had been a long, long three days.
3 Days Earlier - Morning
"Your breakfasts never taste as good as Mums," Lucy whined. I finished washing my plate and turned to glare at her.
"I don't see you doing any cooking. Make your own food if you think you can do better."
"I said Mum does, not me," she grumbled quietly.
I walked over to the TV and turned the volume up. My favourite morning cartoons hadn't been on today; instead there'd been a "Breaking News" report that seemed to have invaded every channel. I'd turned the sound down, uninterested. Now I was beginning to wonder what could be so important that the same report had been running for almost an hour now.
"... like to assure people that there is no cause for alarm," the fidgety news reader said as the volume reached audible pitch. "The incidents have still only been reported in isolated area's, and authorities have firmly stated that everything is under control. People are urged to continue their everyday activities as normal; please attend your work and school routines as always."
"C'mon, bro, we're going to be late if you don't get a move on."
"Shut up," I hissed, waving her away. I was suddenly very interested in what the TV had to say. It sounded pretty serious.
"On a further note, it is highly recommended that people avoid contact with anyone that appears 'sick'. Symptoms include pale skin, coughing, increased aggressiveness or inability to speak. Anyone who has come in contact with assailants bearing these afflictions should go to hospital immediately. Bite victims must be treated with absolute caution, and we urge you to quarantine them in a securely locked room, be they friends or family. Contact this number immediately, and authorities will visit your home as soon as a unit is available."
A big, flashing phone number appeared on the screen. I wondered if I should write it down, but decided I couldn't be bothered.
"Hurry UP! The bus is already coming down the street!" Lucy cried, jumping up and down in front of the window.
I grabbed my school bag and reached for the TV's off switch.
"If attacked, assailants can be stopped through one course of action: by removing the head, or destroying the brain. Once again: by removing the head, or destroying the -" -CLICK-
"Damn... Lucy, I really don't like the sound of this. Maybe we shouldn't go to school?"
"Why?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. "The TV said we should."
"I know, but... this really sounds serious. I want to call Mum and Dad."
"In France? Are you nuts!? It'll cost a fortune! They told us to only do that if it was an absolute emergency."
"This could be one..."
I stared at the black TV screen for a few more seconds, then turned to look at Lucy.
"I really think we should -"
A dark shadow suddenly threw itself at the window; hands slapping at the glass manically. Lucy screamed and ducked behind the kitchen counter. I searched for objects that could be used as a weapon, but found none.
"Where the hell are you guys?" a familiar voice shouted. I looked up and studied the shadow at the window, squinting in the morning backlight.
"Mary-Sue! Oh thank god," I breathed. It was only Lucy's best friend.
"Course it's me, needledick! The bus has been outside your gate forever! Hurry the hell up!"
"Yeah, great to see you too," I grumbled. Even though Mary-Sue visited our house all the time and we rode the same bus, we'd never really got along that well. She was Lucy's friend, not mine, and they seemed determined to be typical teenage girls every second they were around me. I'd left age fifteen three years ago now.
"Coming!" Lucy jumped up from behind the counter and headed towards the font door. She was over her fright faster then it had happened. I followed her out the door and we ran down the concrete path to the bus waiting at its bottom. Mary-Sue was already at the gate, ushering us through.
"Damn, you guys are so slow!"
I squinted and shook my head. Her 'cool black chick' routine really bothered me sometimes. I glanced up the street, over the rows of picket fences and perfectly manicured lawns. Then stopped. Something was wrong here.
"Hey, Lucy," I yelled. "Did the Lawson's mention anything to you about moving home?"
Lucy stopped and looked up the street too. Our neighbours had their car in the driveway, and were busy loading it up with as much of their house as they could. And it wasn't just them; their neighbours were packing too. And their neighbour's neighbours also.
"Wow. What's going on?" Lucy said, looking the other way up the street and seeing a similar sight.
"I dunno. But it's not good."
Lucy shrugged, then locked arms with her friend and ran up the bus steps. I hefted my backpack and continued towards the bus also, only less eagerly then before.
"Nobody's going into the city," I stated, my face pressed firmly against the glass.
"Huh?" Mary-Sue asked, looking irritated.
"Look. All the cars are on the other side of the road. Going out. We're the only ones going in."
Other kids on the bus heard me and began to drift towards the window seats. I stared at the seemingly endless line of bumper to bumper vehicles opposite us. Horns blasted, fingers were waved. Everyone in their cars looked stressed and fearful.
"What's going on?" I heard kids murmuring around me.
"We really are the only ones going in. Do you think it's fire or a bomb or something?
"Didn't you watch the news this morning? Weird things are happening. People have been getting sick on the other side of town, and there's been riots and stuff. Really violent."
"I wish my Mum hadn't made me go to school today..."
I peeled myself off the window and sat down heavily on the seat. The sense of dread that had been in my stomach since the news report was growing deeper all the time. I didn't want to be here. On this bus. Going into the city. And I certainly didn't want to be surrounded by swarms of kids at school. Somehow that just didn't make me feel any safer.
But, thanks to the lack of the traffic on our side of the road, we got to school a full twenty minutes earlier then usual. A small group of teachers were waiting at the entrance, funnelling everyone towards the assembly area.
"C'mon kids, keep moving. Nice and quick now." Their tone of voice was urgent, but not panicked.
We filed obediently into the large, square courtyard, Everyone was notably nervous; younger kids teetering away in high excited voices, older students mumbling in much lower, uncertain whispers. I noticed that the amount of people present was around half of what it usually was. Obviously not everyone's parents thought it a good idea to just carry on with everyday routine.
When the flow of new arrivals began to dwindle, the teachers on the edge of the courtyard called for a hush and directed attention towards the front of the square. There was a small podium set up there with a microphone. The headmaster was waiting patiently behind it. When everyone was sufficiently silenced, he tapped the microphone and cleared his throat.
"Good morning, students," he announced.
"Gooood mooorrninng, Miiissstterrr Brink-ley," the entire assembly droned in the ridiculously slow and monotone manner all school children seemed to use.
"I know some of you may have watched the news this morning," the headmaster began, "and you might be wondering what all the disturbance and uncertainty is about. I'm not a hundred percent clear myself, but apparently there's some trouble in the city; a possible flu epidemic seems to be causing civil unrest and a great deal of trouble for the police. You may also be wondering where the rest of your friends and classmates are; particularly those from the western suburbs. I'd like to assure you that they are ok, and there is no need for anyone to travel there to offer aid. The authorities have everything under control."
The assembled students began to murmur and jostle each other, sensing the underlying tension in the adults around them.
"School will continue as always. You will focus on your classes and eat your lunches like normal, although I'd like to reinforce a new rule: outside activities are strictly forbidden today. Everything will be conducted inside, and for no reason will anyone be allowed to leave the school buildings, especially on their own, until it is time to leave and catch your buses. This is for... for..."
Headmaster Brinkley paused his speech. His face contorted into all manner of strange expressions; eyes rolling into the back of his head and muscles twitching erratically. He raised his hands to his mouth, and suddenly jerked violently forward.
The ear blasting sneeze echoed out of the speakers, making everyone cringe in a mixture of pain and disgust.
"My apologies," he sniffed, wiping his nose and forehead. Then I noticed for the first time how pale his skin was, how dark the rings under his eyes appeared to be. And also the bandage tied tightly around his right hand.
With that realisation, I suddenly became aware of those around me suffering the same aliments. Numerous kids were sniffing and blowing into tissues, their noses red from over use. Their skin was that sickly grey colour of people who don't get out in the sun, and seemed to hang loosely from their bones. A few older boys in my row even looked like they were going to pass out; eyelids fluttering and their bodies swaying. It made me uneasy. Or at least, more-so then I already was.
"This is for your own safety, so please: abide by the rules for today, and I'm sure everything will be ok. Also, if any of you feel sick or disorientated, you are to report to the nurse's office immediately. That will be all."
The headmaster switched his microphone off, and the surrounding teachers began to usher everyone to their respective classrooms. Students were certainly more spooked now then they had been before the speech, and those who were sniffing suddenly found themselves distanced from everyone else.
"Hey!" Someone grabbed my arm and gave it a tug. I stopped and looked back, seeing the now slightly frightened face of my sister. Mary-Sue stood a short distance behind her.
"Yeah?" I enquired.
"I... I think you were right. Something doesn't sound right about this. I want to ring Mum and Dad now. I want to go home." Lucy wasn't one for bursting into tears or getting scared over any little thing. She usually had to be pretty scared before she asked me for help. I put my arm around her and squeezed her tight.
"It's ok. So do I. But we're here now. There are adults to protect us. Everything will be ok; it's only six hours."
"Ok..." she sniffed. I gently nudged her towards Mary-Sue and gave a nod.
"Look after Sis, ok?"
"Sure, sure," Mary-Sue scoffed. She obviously didn't share our fearful sentiments. They waved me goodbye and I headed for my classroom. Even though I knew studying at a time like this was going to be near impossible.
Second period. Geography. I was busy gazing out the window, towards the western part of the city. Numerous smoke flumes rose into the air, and I swore I heard distant gun shots. Our teacher, Mr. Gigalos, was writing an endless stream of information about the Communisitc Society of North Korea and the reign of Kim Yung Il. No one seemed to be paying attention.
Suddenly a scream echoed down the hallway outside. Everyone froze in the seats, pens paused mid sentence. I looked at the guy sitting next to me; his chin quivered and he was staring at the door so intently his eyes were almost bulging. In fact, all eyes were on room entrance... or perhaps exit, depending on how you viewed it. Outside there was a clattering of footfalls as someone ran past, then it was quiet again.
Mr. Gigalos still had his arm raised, even though the chalk had fallen from his fingers. He slowly turned towards the class and pushed his glasses higher on his nose.
"Ok... I don't know what that was, but I'm sure it was nothing to worry about." He put his hands out, urging everyone to stay seated where they were. "Nobody move. I'll go and have a look."
Everyone watched as he went to the classroom door and put his hand on the handle. He pulled it open and stepped outside, closing it most of the way except for a small crack. Through this, we heard him take a few steps, then pause, looking around.
Another pair of footsteps came echoing up from the end of the hallway. They stopped too, and we held our breath. What was going on?
"What are you doing out of class?" Mr. Gigalos's voice asked. "Do you have a pass?"
The other pair of feet suddenly started running again, this time much faster then before.
"Hey, what did you do to your face? Are you o-"
Mr. Gigalos came flying back into the room, smashing through the partially ajar door. He slid on his back, all the way to the bottom of his desk. We all stood up quickly, knocking our chairs out from under us. A girl screamed.
On top of our teachers chest was perched a child. A boy, probably no older then fifth grade. His face was buried in the adult's neck, and Mr. Gigalos was trying weakly to push his attacker off. I could see a pool of dark liquid forming around his head, and his mouth opened and closed in a gasping manner.
"What the...?" cried one of my classmates. I recognised him as Dennis Clarkmen, our class representative. "What are you doing? Get the hell off him!"
He ran forward and grabbed ahold of the child's collar. The boy instantly looked up and let out a snarl. Dennis recoiled; the boy's face was smeared in blood, a sizeable chunk of flesh hanging from his mouth. He looked like something out of a horror movie.
"Holy shi..!" Dennis shouted, just as the boy launched off our teacher's body and latched onto his fingers. The boys at the desks closest to them immediately ran to his aid, punching and struggling to hold the enraged child down.
I leaned over my desk and tried to see if Mr. Gigalos was ok. There was a gaping wound in his neck; the piece of flesh in the boy's mouth had once belonged there. Some of the girls cried out and ran over to help him. They applied clothes and tissues to the hole, trying to slow the flow of blood. It was clear that he wasn't moving.
"Oh my god... he's dead!" wept one of the girls. "He died! That boy killed him."
We all turned to look at the child that was now pinned to the floor by four teenage guys. Dennis was sitting on the floor nursing his fingers.
"You ok?" someone asked him.
"Yeah... yeah," he replied. "Hurts like mad though. What the hell is wrong with that kid?"
We watched the boy thrash about on the floor, growling and snapping like some kind of wild animal.
"Whatta we do?"
"I don't know... should we knock him out?"
"Hey... hey!! Mr. Gigalos; he's alive!"
Everyone turned to look at the girl who'd cried out. She was standing over our teacher, looking into his face.
"His eyes are open! Look!"
She backed off him, and we watched as Mr. Gigalos slowly sat up. There was a confused look on his face, as if he'd forgotten where he was and saw everything around him for the first time.
"Mr. Gigalos? Are you ok?" the girl put her hands on his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. Our teacher turned his face towards her; it was completely blank. Then I saw his eyes. Blue, milky eyes. They'd been dark brown for as long as we'd known him.
"Quick, get away!" I yelled.
"What?" The girl looked my direction. "Why -"
Mr. Gigalos lunged forward with a growl, latching onto her ear. She screamed and tried to get away, but he grabbed her head and smashed it into the floor. Then he held her down as he bit into her neck.
Everything went insane. The remaining girls screamed and ran for the doorway. The boys holding down the child were so shocked that they released their grip, and he was up in a second, tearing off one of their biceps with his teeth. Mr. Gigalos grabbed the ankle of one of the girls that ran past him, and started to go to work on her as well. It was too much. I couldn't take it! I had to get out!!
I ran to the window and gave it a hard tug. It had been awhile since it was last opened, so the bottom was sticking to the frame. I turned to view the classroom again as I struggled with it; the first girl Mr. Gigalos had attacked was up now, helping him finish off the second. Dennis was lying against the wall, breathing shallowly, his open eyes staring at me.
"Dammit, c'mon!" I said through gritted teeth. The window finally gave with a jerk, and I slammed it up hard. "Quick, everyone, I've got the window..."
No one seemed to hear me. They were all screaming and fighting each other. I looked to Dennis to see if he was aware we could escape. He was still against the wall, but he was different now. He wasn't breathing anymore. And his eyes had gone a milky blue.
"Dennis...?" I croaked.
With a snarl he launched forward, pushing tables and chairs out of his way as he barrelled towards me.
"Shit!!" I dived through the window, sliding down the red tiled roof. I reached out, trying to slow my descent; our classroom was on the first storey! It was quite a drop to the ground below. As the edge grew perilously closer, I raised my legs and prepared for impact.
I sat up and spat some leaves out of my mouth. A garden. Thank god the Flower Arrangement Club had demanded they be able to grow their own materials. I climbed out of the garden bed and looked at the courtyard in front of me.
It was mayhem. Teachers were guiding groups of youngsters towards the school gates. On the far side of the square it was quite the opposite, with the teacher chasing the students, his clawing hands outstretched. Random huddles of friends ran screaming past, scared and disorientated. Someone bumped into me, knocking me to the ground.
"Oh my god, help, please! We've got to stop them!"
"What?" I said groggily.
It was a girl dressed in a cheerleader's uniform. She pulled me up and pointed towards the gym.
"They just attacked us! For no reason! We've got to stop them!"
I followed her finger and saw what she was so distressed about; the entire football team was chasing a group of cheerleaders, their faces rife with blood and bile. The girls were terrified, running in all directions, anywhere to escape.
"Please! Please!" she cried, tugging my arm. Then something dripped on her face. She put a hand up to wipe it off. "Wha..?"
It was blood. We looked up, just in time to see the snarling face of Dennis looking over the roof. The girl didn't even have time to scream as he crawled off, landing on top of her with a heavy thud. He'd taken off her nose before I had time to react, and her cheek and eye were gone seconds later.
There was nothing I could do. I had to get away, or die myself. I turned and started running, but to where? My first thought was to the entrance, along with everyone else. But what from there? Out onto the street, running endlessly? It didn't seem like a good idea.
The other choice was more risky, but had a higher chance of escape should my luck hold out. I could go to the bus station at the back of the school. Maybe some buses would be there? Surely one of the teachers had called them?
I continued to run down the concrete pathways, past the classrooms and dodging other kids heading for the entrance gates. Twice I had to jump to avoid a twitching body, flailing on the ground. I was just nearing the station when two bodies flew out of a nearby door and smacked into me. We fell to the concrete in a tangle of limbs.
"Ahhh! Get off me! Get off me!" A familiar voice screamed. I froze in surprise, then grabbed the face of one of the people who'd hit me.
My sister stared at me, her blue eyes teary. They weren't milky blue, they were crystal. She hadn't been attacked. She was alive!
"Bro!!" she screamed, throwing her arms around me. "I thought you were dead."
She bawled freely into my chest, sobbing and choking. I hugged her tightly, feeling nothing but total relief. There were scratch marks on her arms, and dark handprints forming around her neck.
"I hate to break up the family reunion, but we're in some serious fucking trouble here." Mary-Sue scowled at me, tugging at Lucy's school uniform. There were bruises on her arms and neck too, and one piggy tale had been ripped off her head.
"She's right," I said quickly. "We have to get to the buses."
I helped Lucy up, and we continued to run through the school. There weren't many people back this far. How many had made it out of the classrooms?
As we rounded the last corner, I could see the bus station, and my heart almost jumped into my throat. There was a bus! A bus, parked right in front of the pick up point, as if it'd been there all morning.
"Yes!!" Lucy and I yelled simultaneously. We continued to run, and I tried to see inside the bus. Were other people inside? Did anyone at all think to come back here? As we drew closer, I could see it was completely empty apart from the driver. He was looking through the closed door, panic on his face.
"Why does he look so scared?" Lucy gasped. The run was wearing her out.
"I would tell you not to look behind us," Mary-Sue breathed, "but I know you'll do it anyway."
She was right. Lucy and I looked over our shoulders, and almost immediately wished we hadn't. A hoard of perhaps fifty of our former classmates and teachers were not far behind, their milky eyes wide with rage, their bloody teeth gnashing with hunger.
"Jesus Christ!" I screamed, finding energy I never knew I had. Lucy and Mary-Sue somehow managed to keep up, and together we ran for our lives towards our only hope of escape.