Still Breathing

Chapter 3

The Fallen World

Rose dragged herself to class, still groggy and unsettled from her restless night. The lurid images from the party - that gray, contorted face, those grasping hands - kept flashing behind her eyelids, making her stomach roil. She'd barely been able to choke down a dry piece of toast, her throat clicking unpleasantly with each swallow.

Nina, of course, was annoyingly chipper, practically skipping as they crossed the quad. "God, what a night!" She crowed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "Chris and I totally dominated at beer pong. You should have seen the slaughter!"

Rose flinched at the casual violence of the metaphor, vivid sense-memories of viscous black bile rising unbidden. "Sounds like a real rager," she said flatly, hiking her backpack higher on her shoulders. "Wish I could have been there to witness your triumph."

Something in her tone must have penetrated Nina's post-party glow, because she shot Rose a quizzical look, dark brows knitting. "Hey, you okay? You look kind of...peaky."

Rose shrugged, trying to summon a reassuring smile. It felt brittle on her lips. "Yeah, just...I think I had a little too much of the mystery punch. Gave me some weird dreams."

Weird. What an inadequate word for the phantasmagoria of horrors that had marched through her sleeping brain. But what else could she say? "I stumbled on what looked like a preview of the zombie apocalypse in the upstairs john and now I'm deeply freaked out"? Yeah, no. Nina would think she'd lost the plot.

"Aw, lightweight!" Nina teased, bumping her hip playfully against Rose's. "We've gotta build up your tolerance, girlie. A few more frat parties and you'll-"

But what exactly a few more frat parties would do for Rose's constitution, she never found out. Because at that moment, a gurgling moan cut the air, raising every hair on the back of her neck. She whipped around, heart in her throat, half-expecting to see the lurching form of Bathroom Girl shambling towards them.

The quad was unnaturally still, missing the usual bustle of half-asleep students and harried professors. In the distance, a mournful siren wailed.

"Is it just me," Nina muttered, hugging her arms to her chest, "or does something feel...off today?"

Rose frowned, scanning the sparse clusters of people shuffling by. Was it her imagination, or did they seem paler than usual? Sweatier? A girl in a Chi-O hoodie stumbled past, retching into the bushes.

"Maybe that stomach flu's going around again," Rose said uneasily. But deep down, she knew this was something else. Something worse.

They settled into their seats for Victorian Lit, surrounded by a smattering of glassy-eyed classmates. Rose kept twisting to check the door, half-expecting those lurching, groaning things from her nightmares to come bursting through.

But the lecture proceeded normally, Dr. Mooreland droning on about Jane Eyre and the madwoman in the attic. Rose tried to focus, but her gaze kept straying to the shocking number of empty desks. It looked like half the class hadn't bothered to show.

As Mooreland scribbled a quote on the whiteboard, Rose leaned over to Nina. "Hey, is it weird that-"

A piercing scream ripped through the hall, followed by a ferocious bang. Everyone jolted, heads swiveling. In the front row, a guy leapt to his feet, face ashen, an unearthly howl pouring from his gaping mouth.

"What the hell?" Nina breathed.

The door burst open and bedlam erupted. Students poured in, wild-eyed and screaming, a tide of pure terror. And shambling behind them, arms outstretched, milky eyes rolling, came a horde of nightmares made flesh.