Don't Drink the Water

By LeanneG
Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me.

The plot bunny does though, like his dusty cousin, he hides under my bed.

AU, OOC, Rated M for potty words and possible lemony fun times

I feel like this is ripe with cliché. I'm a fic virgin so be gentle. if it sucks please for the love of Rob, tell me if i should continue.

I'm going die in this room, surrounded by puppets and finger paint. I'm an orphaned, part time college student who never goes out. I have a total of two friends over the age of 5 and I've only ever had one real boyfriend, and he was a douche. It's all so damned anticlimactic. I've given up any real chance of survival just by coming to work and having a conscience. I'll never have a chance to try a keg stand, or do the walk of shame. I've never even worn a thong for its intended purpose. It's all so depressing. Shit, I shouldn't be thinking like this, Layla's napping right next to me. Having these emo bang swoosher moments are not helping I need to get over myself. Self-pity is right up my alley lately.

I wonder if it was bad karma that got me here, I haven't screwed anyone over lately. I live alone, my dad was a cop before he died so I obey the law. I rock a very lonely, very vanilla life. I scrub my hands roughly over my face, letting out a deep sigh. If I'd have known I was going die young I would have lived a little harder, partied some, maybe put out more.

It's been almost a week since the last teacher, Miss Lauren, left, or tried to anyway. I'm only an assistant teacher and most definitely should not be in charge. The day the shit hit the fan started like any other Tuesday. I get to work by nine, get a rundown on the day's curriculum and squeeze my ass into the morning circle. On this Tuesday though, parents started flying into the parking lot early. Everyone seems to be rushing to the extreme. I was starting to get freaked out. I finally caught one parent's attention while he was struggling to get his son's stuff together. Little Mikey's dad told us to turn on the radio and listen to the news as he was rushing out the door. I ran to the teacher's room with a few other staff following, and flipped on the piece of crap stereo. Emergency broadcasts were telling everyone to stay indoors and stay off the roads. Some kind of bio-hazard spill on the other half of the country, had infected people with a virus that made them crazy, almost rabid. It had taken hours to spread the continent. The infected were attacking others, biting them, eating them, and in turn, spreading the virus. There was speculation it may have enter public water supplies.

I said I'd stick around, until someone came to pick up the last little girl. Twenty four hours had passed and I was still waiting with one other teacher, Miss Lauren, for someone to come get Layla. Lauren was one of those people who probably shouldn't be working with children. He gossiped a lot. She somehow managed to cover shallow and clicky like a high school girl could only dream of achieving. She spent most of her time here gaggling to other teachers instead of actually working with the kids.

After spending only a day with this woman, I wanted to stuff her in a paint shaker for the sake of mankind. She made my ears bleed. I needed to take a break from all the eye rolling I'd been doing so I went to the bathroom to pee, came back out and it was just me and the kid. Layla told me after; Lauren told her she had to run to her car really quick. She left the door wide open on her way out too. Layla was busy trying to find lost puzzle pieces or something behind the indoor climber, I could hear her muttering to herself. I rush over to close the door, my eyes catch movement outside just before the door's latched, so I look. I think it took me a solid minute of staring to process the sight. There's Mrs. Cope, our elderly neighbor. She's missing the flesh from her shoulder. I think even from here I can see bone. Most of her scalp is missing from the same side, goo and blood was just dripping from her wounds. She's eating whatever's left of Lauren's face and neck. She's leaning over the limp body in the dirt by Lauren's car. Even from where I was standing, across the parking lot from the action, I could hear tendons popping and splattery, squishing noises. I don't remember shutting the door. I came back to reality scrubbing vomit out of the entry way carpet.
From what Layla has told me, her parents aren't together. She lives with her dad most of the time, his name is Edward. I guess he went on a business trip so she's been staying with her mom. The way Layla made it sound, she's not the most attentive mother and her parents have never been married. She said she'd rather not stay with her mom, that she never wanted to do anything with her... I guess the proof is in the pudding because she never showed to pick her kid up. I hope she was eaten, that would be her only good excuse.

Layla will probably wake soon, she's been napping for close to an hour. I brushed some of her hair from her face, it's pretty dirty know, it's not like shampoo is a staple at a small daycare center. Thank god for wet wipes or even I'd smell by now. I feel a wave of pity for her; I don't think she'll ever see her dad again. I know how that feels.
Maybe I should re-inventory our food. I tore this place apart after Lauren left, looking for anything edible. Besides the fruit snacks and Twinkies from the rows of cubbies, we still have some apple sauce singles, a box of graham crackers, some soy butter, grape jelly, some cheerio's, and enough fruit juice cocktail to ensure I never drink it again, if I ever get out of here. There were a few cases of bottled water in the teacher's room too but, I'm trying to conserve those. With a good idea of what's left, I put everything back in the kitchenette. Three days ago we lost power, so no more fridge. We chugged milk and ate cheese slices like a couple of heroes. At least the water was still running; flushing toilets are way better than talking a four year old into shitting in a bucket. I won't let her drink from the tap though; I don't have a clue if it's contaminated with whatever made everyone rabid? A zombie? The undead? The radio was saying the C.D.C. reported that the sick were technically dead. Is zombie a P.C. term? Is there anyone else left alive and normal who would give a shit? A hefty sigh leaves me as I turn to go back to Layla...
Before the kid wakes up, I check the doors again, to make sure we're still locked in safe, all the glass has wire in it, like you see in public schools. I found some nails in the supply closet so I nailed all the window frames shut. I tacked a bunch of nap blankets up too. I was going for, 'Out of sight, out of mind' for Layla's sake. I don't bother checking the windows anymore, I know what I'll see when I look outside. They don't seem to hang around so much now that they can't see in, the windows are set high, but the light at night attracts them. We sleep under a blanket tent we made now too, another layer to smother the flashlight.

"Miss Bella?" She sounds less frightened today when she wakes, maybe more resigned to this reality. I sit next to her mat and she cuddles up next to me. "Hey Baby, sleep o.k.?" she yawns and nods her head. She suddenly looks so sad. "Daddy isn't coming today either, is he?" I try not to frown and with a false upbeat tone follow with "I don't know baby, but I hope so."


so this is my firts tickle in writing anything R&R. tell me what you think.