Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Eight: The Cure ~4 John

~John~

            I close to Sophie. She was wrapped in very tight straightjacket, and seeing her like this punches my gut. Her eyes were twitching, and her mouth was spewing blood.

            Grace, Anee, and Ella were holding her. I fear for their safety as well, but Sophie wasn’t moving a lot too much to scare the hell out of me.

            Jules was stretching by the time I went to him next. The balls were fastened to his belt, and before he notices me watching the balls bounce as he lifts his arms, I quickly asked if this place was safe.

            Bridge Carson claims he had went here when he was five, and I sort of believed him. The place was small—about just six times the size from our school grounds, which was a full basketball court. Try to imagine it; numbers are just so hard to do.

            James flexes his bad arm. I saw him yelp, but pretended that he didn’t when I sat next to him by the small stools surrounded by burnt Bermuda grass.

            The whole place was peaceful, and night was coming quick. I noticed minimal blood dripping from every ceiling, like all the kids here crept into the roof’s interior by the time this plague spread. The thought was bizarre, and I quickly shook it off my head.

            “I’m tired,” says James, his Bolt glowing feebly on his lap. “I’m wondering how Bridge’s uncle did the Scythe and this Bolt.”

            I snickered. “Tired of running away?”

            He nods. “I want to go back to our old days,” he says hopefully. “The days we thought time would never end.”

            “When everything turns fine, then we’ll finally graduate,” I said reassuringly.

            Jimmy suddenly intercepts. “Graduates from killing zombies,” he said then he chuckled.

            “Where are the others?” I asked him.

            “Spread out,” says Jimmy. “Others are finding food. June got a handful of sandwiches left, and we devoured them once she took them out.”

            My stomach grumbled in response.

            “I’m hungry,” I said to them.

            Plans of getting out of this place alive were given. The first one was to have seven people go and search for the cure, named C-961 in the terrorist base about a kilometer away from here. While we were gathered on one classroom that can hold all of us, three of my classmates stood guard on the guard house.

            The seven people proposed was me, James, Jet, Jules, Jimmy, Gray, and of course, Bridge (“Oh no! All handsome people going! Oh my!” Leo said behind,) who will guide us. The remaining thirty people will stay here. One will stay on watch for zombies. As expected, we hear zombies—little zombies—grumbling just outside the room.

            We ignored them, and continued doing some plans—A and B and C. Though everything may fail, Bridge says there’s no regret if we didn’t get the cure. But of course, if we aren’t going to gamble about this—Sophie will get worse. I was looking at her desperately, like she can give me answers, but blood just kept on spewing from her mouth. She’s not looking okay, but not looking like she’ll attack us now, either.

            Plan A consists of getting past the high-security panels to get through. Everything we can imagine of killing us—be it to gadgets to living predators—will be expected there. Plan B was about getting to the alternative entrance, which was the ceiling system. It was just the same as the sewer system we had gone through before, but this one’s nicer. This plan isn’t even to be pushed, since the small crouching entrances to the ceilings are heavily guarded. And Plan C is to send a flare for the people here to rescue us. It was stupid, I know, but we have no other choice.