Zombie High (Delight Games)

1.2

The door of Chase's pod swings open. "Yeah, Ma" he says over his shoulder. "She's here right now."
"Good Luck, Jane!" Chase's mother calls from inside. I say my goodbye and head out.
Chase pushes his sandy brown bangs out of his blue eyes with an impatient flick of his wrist pulling pulling the door shut behind him. Smiling he flips his own green crowbar up into the air and then slides it deftly into the side pocket of his cargo pants.

"Ready to go, Bait?"

I absolutely hate this nickname. Although the nickname passes along to all freshman, and it is actually true that 80% of then actually doesn't survive to their third year.
"Shut up!" I say elbowing him in the ribs.
"Relax!" He says chuckling elbowing me back. "You know I am just kidding."

I know what you all are thinking. Chase could be described as cute but I have also known him since we were 4. We had shared baths, chicken pox and had tormented countless babysitters and tutors together. I've come to think of him solely as a brother. Any thought of romance between the 2 of us makes me queasy.

The two of us follow the east corridor towards the subway, joining the mass of other students and workers along the way. A colourful mural celebrating Dr. Ethan Ehrlich's early antidote research adorns the stone walls. The heavy scent of spray paint fills my nostrils and makes me notice that someone graffitied "Death to all Fectos" and another one saying "Meatbags Suck!" ( I am sure they do) across the doctor's oversized beaker of AZ-214. Suddenly the foot traffic in front of me comes to a halt.

"Looks like a bottleneck up at the eye scanner." Chase says, craning his neck above the crowd. "They must've caught a fecto."
In a few moments, the crowd slowly starts to move again, and I finally make it to the eye scanner. I walk through it careful not to blink, as a heavy armed military policeman watches the computer screen. It flashes green and he waves me through the gate. Chase and I arrive at the platform just as the subway does, and hustle inside to find a seat together.

"So did your mom freak this morning when you left?" Chase asks.
"Nah, she was fine. She just gave me some cliche advice about avoiding peer pressure and cliques."
"Well she's right about that."
"Ugh" I groan. "You too? You can't be serious."
"I am." He says, scanning the car anxiously before settling back in his seat. "The Zeta High social scene is brutal. It's best to avoid it altogether."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you not listened to a word I've said this past year?"
I shrug, earning a disappointed sigh from him.
"Okay" he continues,
"First you have all the baggers. They are all meatheads and steroids cases, if you ask me. All they care about is killing meatbags.
"Sounds fun." I interrupt.
"Nope. It's more like 24/7 testosterone fest. When they are not bragging about their kills, they are obsessing about their workouts or new energy drink. Definitely boring. Most bragger guys date royalty. Welcome to stage two. Royalty-the cheerleaders and all the other spoiled, pretty princesses. Future trophy wives I would like to call them. Next you have ehrilchs. They are smart kids obviously, but super lame. All they do is study and brown-nose the teachers for extra bullets, which they immediately hand over to the braggers who protect their scrawny butts."

"That's pretty nice of them." I say relived that I won't be witnessing any Revenge-of-Nerds-style bullying for being smart.
"Whatever. They are still major wads. But non of them are as bad as Kid A."
"Who's that?"
"Every year's got one." He says, raising his voice to a mocking pitch. "Allrounder. The guy who's sooo smart, sooo strong, and soo brave. All the girls drool over him."
"Uh-huh, jealously much?"
"As if." Chase leans back and crosses his arms.
"Is there ever a female Kid A?"
"Never heard of one. It's always been a guy." He gives me a patented smart-aleck look. "Why? You think you'd fit the bill?"
"No, just curious." I look at him now my brows furrowed. "It seems like you have everyone else figured out. Where do you fit in?"
"I don't fit in, nor do I want to. Thank you very much." He shifts uneasily avoiding eye contact.
"You're a rat." I am sure my eyes are open wide with disbelief. "And you never told me?"
"I am not a rat. I hate that label. I am just one of the few kids who refuses to be sucked into this fascist system."
Considering his words for a moment I speak again. "At least braggers and ehrilchs and royalty all have a purpose for the greater good in the society. What's yours?"
"Do you hear yourself ?" Chase huffs, his face red with anger. "You sound like those stupid public service announcements on TV. Do you think everyone had a purpose back before all this happened? What's wrong with just wanting to be a kid?"

***

A man sitting across me peers at Chase iver his newspaper. Chase sighs and looks out the window at the passing advertisements along the subway tunnel wall. I notice there is going to be a John Hughes movie marathon all weekend and instantly make a mental note to DVR it.
"Look," Chase finally speaks. "It's not like I am planning to donate my body to science or anything. But sometimes I get sick of all the crap. I'd rather play Residence Evil than live it, you know?"
"I guess, yeah."

We keep talking about what to expect for the day ahead.

A tone dings twice over the speaker system, signalling the next stop. Chase reaches for the backpack.
"Just remember one thing; the less you call attention to yourself at school the easier it will be. Trust me."