This Is Our World Now -A Walking Dead Fanfiction

Chapter Three- Practice

The adults here decided a while back that it would be a good idea if everyone in the school was able to use a weapon. This resulted in the replacement of music and art classes with a class called "Defense Against the Living Dead," or DALD, which is what most people call it.

DALD is my fifth period, so I head there after lunch. It takes place on the field on the east side of the building. The field is raised off the the sidewalk by about four feet, so roamers can't take down the chain-link fence bordering it. We also fortified any weak spots with sandbags, so they can't destroy the base of the fence. The school is also raised off the ground, but there are stairs leading to the doors. However, the doors are nailed shut and barricaded on both sides, so nothing gets in and nobody goes out.

Our unit right now in weapons class is knives. So far, we have learned how to use handguns and pistols, swords, rifles and long guns, bows and arrows, and an assortment of melee weapons. Knives is the last unit before we are allowed to choose a weapon of choice. Then you are given your own weapon to keep, and this is when you are allowed to start going out on supply runs. That is something I can't wait for. Finally get outside of these walls for the first time in almost a year and a half.

I head out onto the field for class. Mr. Canello, the teacher, instructs everyone to grab a knife off the weapons rack stationed on the side of the field. Then we line up on the faded 30 yard line.

"Good aftenoon class. Today we will just be practicing what we learned yesterday on the sandbags. I am assuming you all remember, so let's get to work!"

We all dash to the 50 yard line, where an enormous pile of sandbags is laid out. The sandbags used to have faces scribbled on in sharpie, but are now riddled with holes from gunshots, arrows, knives, and more. I choose a "zombie" down on the end and begin stabbing the poor bag of sand.

I think I'm going to choose knives when I pick my weapon. It feels right in my hand, the weight, the handle, the control. I'll probably carry a handgun too, just in case, but my knife will be my primary defense.

Mr. C strolls over to my spot and watches me for a while before commenting,

"Annalyn, just remember to stab the roamer deep in its head, so you are sure you hit the brain stem. Other than that, you are looking good. Thinking about choosing knives as your weapon?"

I nod, concentrating on the spot where I aim to drive the knife into the skull of the "zombie."

"That's a good choice, Annalyn. Keep up the good work." Then he moves on the Jackson, the kid next to me.

I keep at this for a while before I notice something moving outside the fence with the corner of my eye. I turn and realize it's one lone roamer, quietly clawing at the fence. This would be the perfect oppurtunity for some real world peactice, I think to myself. So instead of getting Mr. Canello, I glance behind me to make sure nobody's watching, then I clutch my knife and slip over to the fence. I kneel, so the roamer can't grab my feet. Then I pull my knife back, staring right at the spot between it's eyes where I will dig the knife deep into it's brain. With one swift motion, I thrust the weapon into the zombie's head, rewarding me with one spurt of dark red blood. It slumps to the ground and I stand up, only to turn around and face Mr. C looking doen upon me.

"Oh....hey Mr. C. What's...up?"

"Annalyn Douglas, you know the rules about killing the roamers. You are simply not allowed to. Can you give me some reason as to why you decided to do it anyways?"

"Well I thought it would be good practice."

"I see. However, you and I both know that's not a good enough reason. Would you like to go inside and speak to the prinicipal about this?"

"...no..."

"Go," he sighs in annoyance, "Just go and talk to her."

I nod and hang my head as I shuffle back into the school.