Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Eleven: The Final Assault ~3 James

~James~

            Before lunch time, the boys had been able to carry Sam’s lifeless body to the small, three-foot deep grave they dug thirty minutes earlier. It took them almost an hour to take Sam from Jules who tried to hurt whoever attempted to get near her. The whole thing won’t take more than ten minutes, but Jules had just been so upset. Terribly upset.

            After forcing him down to let the boys take Sam, Jules fell silent when I sat beside him. John was with the others outside—they’ve gathered around the grave as Principal Guns make prayers for Sam and the others. We’ve lost many good classmates, and maybe today’s a perfect time to at least give them a small prayer. It should’ve been done days ago, but something about today that feels so tranquil a storm can’t possibly be far away.

            Whenever I try to speak to Jules, he’s either crying or looking over the glass window. My eyes fall on my left arm where three red scratches were throbbing. Jules had struggled as we take the love of his life away, and I got this for the effort. It was the least anyone can get—Gray’s cheek is bleeding and Stanley’s arm got a bruise.

            When Jimmy volunteered to babysit Jules for a while, I got the chance to get outside. The time I arrived to the grave about a hundred meters away from the pharmacy, they were already throwing earth over the hole. Several girls like Stella and Karen wasn’t done crying over someone’s shoulder. John gave me a grave look, and his face fell. Flowers around the cross stuck at the grave were wafting a nostalgic fragrance.

            My heart sunk as Mr. Riggins gave Principal Guns a paper which he reads. It contained the names of all the deceased students who were with us. I know today probably will the only time we’ll do anything like this because from what I heard just this morning, we’re moving towards Salofie District.

            Not the actress; Salofie District is another place rumored to have survived the plague, and Principal Guns was excited from the thought.

            Principal Guns was done, and he ordered everyone to come back to the pharmacy.

            Lunch time quickly passed by, but I kept peering over my shoulder to check on Jules. Karen was now trying to feed him, but before the thought of him hurting her or hurling the food over her reached my mind, Jules cried.

            I put a palm over my face for three seconds, and I sighed.

            Surprisingly enough, Rich and Sam had been the ones who died because not of the infection—Sam from the bullet and Rich from heart attack. And at the same time, they were the only ones who were given proper burial. Oh, about Ronald...well, he was the exception. Jimmy and the others with him didn’t have a chance to take him.

            On the other hand, I can’t help feeling paranoid about everyone. It seems like they were...slowly changing. Jules was the first I noticed. He was about to get up when this happened. He was about to grow positive again to the word hope, but he was discouraged. Again. Mrs. Guns was another story. I just don’t know if she’s only upset because of our security or because of the fact she and her husband is already homeless. I can’t figure out if it was the latter. It’s too hard to lose something and someone that had been valuable to you.

            There comes my growing concern about the said existence of my parents. Day by day I grow more confused, anxious, and scared. Confused because everything that I seem to know is now betraying me; anxious because I’m always the person who is unprepared. One moment or another, I might see them again. And I’m scared because... I haven’t figured out this one. Death? Old news.

            Before dusk sets in, Mr. Riggins went to Jules. I can’t hear a thing he says, but he seemed really concerned about him. Giving him space was essential, but none of us knew until when.

            The next thing the odd teacher did was to talk to me.

            Before I can even argue why it has to be me when I don’t have serious personal problems, he had asked me things before dinner.

            I don’t want to be bugged, but I figured out this would be over if I would participate. And this even changes the fact I believed Mr. Riggins was just a teacher born to teach us Literary Arts. He was a fighter and an adviser.

            “Can you do some things for me?” he asked me. It wasn’t the kind of favor-asking that asks for your voluntary answer. The answer’s none other than a sure!

            “What is it?” I answered, trying not to be harsh. He’s still an adult, right? Even though humanity’s values slowly degrades, I can’t deny that nothing good will happen if I try to be a pain in the neck. “Can’t John do it? He’s the president.”

            His lips quivered. “I figured out you’ll be the best one to look over Wakefield,” he responds. “Although he listens to no one right now, I know he’ll not try to sneak out when someone’s looking over him.”

            “So I’m babysitting?”

            “A little bit of a yes,” he said. “But you can even talk to him; try to make him feel better even though you won’t get a definite answer.”

            I nod curtly. “It has to be me to do it.”

            He’s trying to meet my eyes, but I kept on evading him. He’s asking a favor to babysit someone, and that’s it. Then I realized something.

            “Why? You think Jules will—“ I asked.

            “I already know his style,” Mr. Riggins cut me up. “It’ll be a change if he’ll not sneak out there. Zombies are herding at this time.”

            The thought of Jules getting out alone at night to see Sam’s grave just to get surrounded by zombies passed my mind. Even though he’s crazy and delusional at the moment, I don’t want that to happen.

            “Herding?”

            “They’re always walking in groups,” Mr. Riggins said. “For no particular reason.”

            “Are we any safer?” I asked him. And I didn’t want to intentionally sound like I’m taunting him.

            His brow arched. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, won’t the people chasing us stop at that scheme? The blowing up of the Guns’ mansion?” I said, trying to sound confident. “What if they follow us here?”

            “That’s why we’re lying low,” he replied. “We turn lights off tonight as we sleep, and we hide whenever zombies try to look over.”

            “You haven’t answered me about them,” I said.

            The dude looked gunned like a small kid outdone him. He looked down. “We have no idea. Leaving this matter now.”

            As he said that, he left. And that’s the time when I went over to check over a dear classmate.