Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Two: The Plan ~2 John

~John~

    "How many of our classmates died?" I asked so calmly, as if I didn't hear anything bad.

    "Two," answers Jasmine. "Ellie and Rose."

    I nod and said no more. I heave a sigh, and looked at the window again.

    James was the next to ask. "Then how many of our classmates are left?"

    "Only two," Matthew says. "Me and Jasmine."

    Sophie's on the last batch. It was so good I didn't watch my classmates die. So far. It would be so painful, the people who were with you since kindergarten and yet, died in front of you. So ridiculous and painstakingly painful.

    I returned to the panel as if I'm about to cook again, but no. Several things run in my mind. And I can't tell anyone. Why? If my prediction was wrong, about the sudden disappearance of a great number of the undead, then I'll be giving a wrong track and a false alarm. Those things would be the last things that we'll need for now.

    But if I'm right--it'll just scare the hell out of anyone. And that's the reason I haven't told my only best friend yet. My best friend.

    Unbelievably, the whole stock left here at the cafeteria's second floor was able to fill all our tummies tonight. Well, for security reasons, we waited at least thirty minutes or so before James utters the last whistle call for the last batch. I take their share of the food with me, so no one will get it except them. No worries if they stop and went back to the Office: we have left them food--at the least to help them survive for a day.

    As I look around I asked myself, Why on earth that it was only us who got this place? Thinking about it makes me sick because it only shows how people react to panic, which is not subjected to blame. But they must have used their common sense. And because they haven't thought of barricading themselves here, it's us who'll survive. For now.

    The others lack things to do, so some of them got all of the knives and every kitchen tool with blunt edges or the ones that can cause injuries when not handled properly. Gladly, the students who were crying a while ago out of fear were no more. I see now a group of teens holding and preparing things. To kill. Not to cry and utter names anymore. One even shouted, "I'm ready for the apocalypse!" That's it. Apocalypse.

    Since the school wasn't on order right now, the regulations were no longer noticed. We are told not to harm and kill; steal things from others; open closed facilities and Offices not for students; and any else, bringing any electronic device except our handy and valuable cell phones.

    No, not handy anymore--it even increased our fear. There's no network service, and probably, signal posts around the city were turned down. No more possible means of communication. If this is an event caused by the annoying dead zombies, I may say it's all right. But if this is the movement of the president for country calamities...

    It seems were not the only ones alive here in the planet. So far. Because one student from the third group took out his cell phone with a radio. And unfortunately, he's the only one who was lucky to bring it with him. Some lost it while running, and some left it and never found it again. The battery pack is about to die, but at least we hear a strip of news from the still alive ones.

    "Our country fell into a chaos. Defense Secretary Press Parker announced that the country was under a red-level calamity, caused by an unknown disease spreading throughout the country, and even in some parts of the world. It was a major catastrophe, and Secretary Parker continues the rescue team plans to rescue and help the healthy and alive citizens. Recently, the rescue team got one feebly struggling 'zombie' and confirms the foreign epidemic.

    "News on the Faber City. The famous Burgundy Street in Faber City was identified as the main center of the spreading disease. Earlier morning, there were attempts to help the remaining students who must have been trapped inside the schools, particularly the Joseph's University, but a great number of marching horde on the streets disabled the rescue mission. Later on, Secretary Press Parker will have his..."

    The Scottish-accented woman talking on the news radio was cut off, and that's when we see the sophomore's cell phone dying out. Too bad, I didn't hear what Parker may have said or do. Maybe I'll just swipe the phone away and threw it outside. From all of the country's leaders, it was him who was so worthless. And a total moron. I may not look like it, but I know about this country's politics. And it's dirty like in the other countries.

    "Sorry, guys," says the sophomore with dreadlocks. He turns his phone away, and curled against the wall like what the others do.

    So my suspicions raised after hearing the news. Not all reacted; some just heaved a sigh upon hearing repetitive news, and some completely ignored it. So James and I sat beside the window again, and allowed cold, nostalgic night air to blow on our faces. Don't tell me the dead can already fly and grab us from here.

    I was never in this part of the campus before at night. I may have been in here, but those were cooking classes. Not do we camp in here. No one cares now anyway--there's no rule but to stay alive.

    James was just finished taking his soup. He takes the bowl down, and looks at the outside world beneath the windows. After about ten minutes, the fourth group hadn't returned yet. Normally, we expected the trek to consume less than quarter of an hour, but because the zombies are suddenly disappearing, it may not be the norm. So James was the one to talk.

    "Anything good you heard in the news?" James asks.

    "Nothing good," I say.

    "Ten minutes. Now eleven--the fourth isn't here yet. Do you think they can...utter the death call?"

    I swallow. We are waiting here for a dead group already if ever they are all killed and none of them screamed audibly for the death call.

    I figured out there's no more way I can hide one matter to myself anymore. If I'm killed, then it will be my fault for not informing at least one person about one crazy conjecture. Now I should trust him.

    "Do you remember Mr. Riggins?" I ask him.

    He shrugs. "He's dead now, perhaps."

    "No," I say, frowning. "What he said a while ago. When he was calling us to go out from the room."

    James stares blankly to nowhere, and shakes his head.

    I sigh. "Okay. What I think, Riggins told us something...informative. Something essential in staying alive," I say.

    "Which is?"

    "He told me, 'Eddington, don't let them reach the hole' before he disappeared a while after we turned away," I quoted.

    I waited about five seconds until James' face started to turn blue.

    "The h-h-hole? Y-Y-You mean t-t-the...?" James starts to shake and mumble as I finish his sentence.

    "The school's plumbing holes. The zombies must've used it to get out the school," I finish with a terrible, scaring manner.

    As soon as James tries to figure it out, we heard a terrible chorused screams that pierces the night sky.

* END OF CHAPTER TWO *