"Man on!" I hear, yelled at me from the other side of the pitch. I think. 'What does that mean again' as the out of school player slams into my side. The ball, now equally far from me and him, rolls away. We both sprint. We reach it at the same time as he is a small fast runner and I'm slow but tall. He spins flicking the ball up. I keep my eyes on it and prepare an overhead kick to get it away. Naturally it drops past my foot, onto the athlete's and rolls to the goal. I sprint to stop it but it just manages to touch my foot which it bounces off, more directly than before to the goal.
"Goal." shouts sir as I turn to my team, a sheepish look plastered across my face.
"Clean your glasses, that may help." says one of my team mates. Not a friend. We kick off again but the whistle blows before we get any good chances to score. I'm not doing this by choice. It's just PE. But you couldn't tell by the distraught look on some of my teams faces at the four-one loss. I take off my red bib and pass it to sir, whose outstretched hand grabs it.
"Footballs not your sport, is it?" he asked. He didn't sound cruel. More sincere.
"No, I'm more a badminton man." I say.
"Yeah." he says, coughing. I turn and walk off to catch up with my friends.
"Nice own goal." says James.
"I'm surprised you saw it." I say (he's got worse eyesight than me). "Anyway, it didn't actually touch my foot." I lie. He rolls his eyes. We reach the changing rooms just as the door slams closed. I grumble as I shake the handle for a couple seconds before someone opens it. I head to my side and get ready to start changing my clothes when sir stumbles into the room.
"Here's your..." he begins as he sneezes, "...valuables." I go to get my phone and see that the tray has been sprayed by blood.
"Sir are you okay..." I say. But as I finish the tray drops to the floor, sending all of the phones and wallets spilling over the floor. I look at him. "Sir?" I ask. I look at him. His eyes are dull. They look dry and the whites are tinted yellow. His skin looks pale. "Sir?" I ask again. He is still. But then, quick as a flash, he pushes me. By now all of the room of sweaty boys are looking. I stumble back but slip on one of the phones. The iPhone 8 screen crunches underfoot.
"Oi." a voice shouts out, clearly the owner of the overly expensive mobile. Sir's head clicks in his direction. He growls. The shouter backs down. We are all silent. This, as I hope you gather, isn't normal. The monstrous looking teacher aims his gaze back on me. I stand as he swings an arm at my head. I lift my arms to block and as the arm makes contact I hear a crack. I look to my arm, expecting a broken arm. But it is his, whose forearm splits off at an angle, the hand the wrong way round.
"Jesus." I say as dark red blood bubbles slightly out of his arm. He turns to Caolan who stands to his left. He grabs with his working hand. He pulls Caolan in and prepares to bite. I look around and reach for my backpack. I grab it and swing it to the teacher's head. It slams into the side of his face and he falls with a loud crash. "You good?" I ask Caolan. He nods and I turn to sir. I squat next to him and grab his wrist. "Crap." My fingers move around, hoping to feel the distinctive thud thud of life. The lack of movement felt by my fingers is terrifying. James kneels next to the body and holds his hand over the deceased teacher's mouth.
"He's dead." says James, and a gasp spreads through the room. I stay still, breathing. We both stand. We face each over. "What do we...?"
"LOOK OUT!" shouts a voice and Michael jumps forward. He jumps behind us, blocking the teachers bite by letting it crunch down onto his own shoulder. He staggers then falls. We look to sir whose head now bent at an angle. James steps forward reaching to the man's shoulder but I pull him back. I back off pulling James away, the rest of the people following suite. The teacher stood still over, what we hoped, was the unconscious body of Michael. He was still. He was still. Still. Still. Still. Then he runs toward us, arms outstretched. Caolan acts quickly, kicking up with his foot, hitting sir square in the chest. He fell back onto his back, then rolled to his side. Puke spilled out of his mouth, starting small, then picking up speed and vigor. Blood began to come up too. Then something else came up. Skin, burning with stomach acid. His stomach. His body convulsed until it went still. A boy at the back of the room threw up.
"We should go." say some of the thick tough boys in the room who left, followed by people who felt scared.
"No, come back." I shout. But they run. Left in the room was Sam, James, Caolan and me. We froze. Then James walked to the still body of Michael. He reached down but shook his head.
"No pulse." he says. We all don't know what to do. Then we hear a scream. We exit the changing room to see where it came from. The scream sounded again. We looked around and saw where it came from. The girls changing room. I stepped towards the window.
"SHOULD WE HELP?" I shouted. There was a thud, another scream and another thud.
"Come in." came a shout of response. We stepped in. THANKFULLY everyone was clothed. But there was the female teacher laying on the floor battered and bloody. Standing above her, brandishing hockey sticks were three girls I knew. Lauren, short. Bella, taller. Fifi, tallest.
"Hey." they said.
