Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Ten: The Showdown ~2 Jet

~Jet~

Waking up when you most feel like sleeping was probably one of the most irritating things that can ever happen to a sleep-deprived, stress-indulged, undead-hating teenager that was out for days.

I let myself to sleep on a room where Mr. Riggins occupied the soft bed while I contented myself with a comfy mattress on the floor courtesy of Mrs. Guns. It was probably the smallest room in the house, and the main reason I didn’t mix myself with John Eddington and his classmates was that I wanted them to have quality time with each other. Well, maybe sleeping night time wasn’t a good idea—that’s why the girls were separated from the boys—to get an overnight party.

None of us were here to party.

For the greatest time possible, I really don’t want to hang around much with them.

Getting something from my mind, I woke up and went down to the kitchen. I grab some water, and Principal Guns’ ref wasn’t deprived of basic necessities. Maybe supplies weren’t that expensive, or that many to last us for a year, but at least we can eat till our tummies are full.

Hearing the main front door creak slightly, it almost made me jump out and drop the glass I was holding. The first thing that popped into my mind was freaking zombies.

Nearly it was impossibility. I walk as quiet as my weight can manage (which had depressingly cut me off by three kilograms,) without making any sound. Knowing Principal Guns’ powerful earshot when I was on sophomore year—when my classmates got a sanction for uttering offensive words against him—I figured out he’ll take me as an intruder, or a zombie perhaps. He’ll kill me first with his terrible guns before knowing it was me.

Me, who was less important than a John Eddington, or a Jules Wakefield, that no one would prefer other to take my place and die.

My fist closed on the cold twin doorknobs—which were open—and suddenly I felt a chill up my spine. Remembering that all of my friends were all possibly dead seems like a more painful thing than my own death.

I opened the doors, and they creaked so loud I was close to thinking the principal was already awake. I stayed still for about twenty seconds, and nothing’s coming for me. Maybe he got stressed of handling twenty-four student survivors. Mr. Riggins was twenty-fifth, but clearly he wasn’t a student.

I closed the door behind me. I was now outside. Before me rolled the Bermuda grass and some bushes of the Guns’ garden, the sharp scent of fresh grass was hard to miss. Suddenly, a sight of two people from about fifty yards away made me stop again.

One was clearly a girl with a long hair, and the other was a boy with a cropped black hair.

About to return inside because I don’t want to get their attention—and be an annoying distraction—and obviously because I was shivering from the cold, I turned my heels backwards, and bumped on someone.

“Eek—!” said Leo immediately. He almost lost his balance, and I quickly got him. For a conscious second, I turned to the two teens among the dark, but they weren’t looking. They look so serious in their talk.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, letting his hand go, but he just held my hand tight.

“Just…following you,” said Leo.

When we were back outside, he pulled me to the kitchen, insisting he has something to confess. Seeing how this guy looks at me in an aphrodisiac way, I am likely to guess what he’s to tell.

He got me and him hot chocolate straight from a coffeemaker, and I sat on the free area next to the sink. Somehow a part of me warns me that if Mrs. Guns saw me, she’ll call her husband and kick me out of their house. Oh, such a sadistic thought. She’s so sweet to us, and probably kicking one of us (preferably me,) out of the house to be deemed to danger was the last thing they’ll do.