So, here I am, watching my friend go. Er…my "Friend." We kind of hang out together, but he doesn't exactly trust me. I can't exactly blame him, I'm not a very trustworthy person. I'm pretty sure Nick filled you in on most of the boring details. Pff, that Nick. I always thought of him as a 'Goody.' But, he did ditch Social Studies Class with me today. Don't get me wrong, our tale isn't some sort of social blunder story. No, instead, this is about something must more horrific that would get worse, and worse. Indeed, we are talking about the walking dead.
My name is Chris, and I just lived through a terrifying experience. While ditching, me and Nick…Nick and I…whatever, I'm not the best with grammar, okay? I'll just skip to where Goody left off. So, there I was waiting in the hallway, no security camera to invade my privacy. The coach of the class that shared our experience was in a padded chair, in his office. The gym had a door on its left wall that led to the office. The office was a cube-like room, square. There was a desk in it, and a padded chair for you to sit in. There also was a phone to the left of the desk and lots of papers were on it, unorganized. I was peeping into the office, watching the coach, as an experiment. How would a person react if they heard zombies were going to eat them? The coach had a bead of sweat that ran down his left temple and he let out a long sigh. He was shaking, and his eyes were blinking, again and again as if trying to get something out of his head. He took deep, shivering breaths. A kid walked in, changed into his normal clothes already.
KID: Coach, I don't feel too good.
COACH: Rod? What's the matter?
ROD: I don't know…
COACH: Did…it…bite you?
ROD: No, but it scratched me. And, e-every-everything's…all…blurring up.
I watched the kid collapse to the floor as he said this last part. The coach got out of the chair and backed away. Rod was paler than a normal skin tone, and his veins bulged out of the side of his head. His skin was kind of a sick-green and he was shaking like he just heard: "Hi, Rod honey. Don't mind if I kill you, now?" from his mother. The thought of his mother made me shiver. What was going on with my parents? How big had the virus spread? Nick should be in Social Studies by now, taking that test…safe. Speaking of which, I think I might run too…but I couldn't. Maybe bites infected, and scratches killed? As if in response to my thoughts, Rod stopped shaking. His body was at a complete still. Beneath him, a pool of blood started to form, yet there was no big wound. The blood reached the coach's feet, and I noticed the coach was stunned. Stunned with fear. Rod was dead. No question about it. Suddenly, his hand twitched. The coach was too busy looking at the blood to notice. Rod gave a small gurgling sound and shuffled to his feet, like a ragdoll. He gave a sick, long, creepish moaning sound. Note to self: Scratches are infectious.
ME: COACH! SNAP OUT OF IT! RUN!
Okay, so I was caught. Did that really matter now? The coach snapped out of his shock, and turned. He gave me a strange look. He ran, but boy of all times, he slipped. The blood had made him slip. His head hit the tile with a strange 'CRACK!'
ME: Coach!
ROD: moaaannn
I watched in horror as Rod knelt down and sunk his teeth into what was once my coach. Suddenly, much faster than Rod had turned, Coach went motionless. The delay time between dead and zombie was shorter, as I saw his foot start to move. Of course, I got the heck out of there, freaked out.
Later….
NICK: Chris?
ME: Yeah, I came.
MRS. RIO: Chris, I don't suppose you have an excuse.
ME: Sorry, Ri.
Ri was my nickname for Mrs. Rio.
MRS. RIO: From what I know of you, I'd assume you were ditching.
ME: Maybe I was.
NICK: Chris, stop embarrassing yourself!
MRS. RIO: Nick, I don't recall you being in the conversation.
NICK: Sorry, Mrs. Rio.
ME: So, how many hours detention?
MRS. RIO: I expect you to stay after school, two hours, in this room, mister ditcher!
ME: Suits me fine.
NICK: Chris…
Nick lowers his voice to a whisper so nobody else can hear.
NICK: Is the zombie situation contained?
I respond with a shake of my head, and a grim face so he knows I'm not joking like usual. So far, there were two zombies in the school. Rod, and Coach. Their population would slowly grow…and it frightened me.
MRS. RIO: Now, Nick and ahem Chris can make up the test later. But, let me give you an overview of our next unit. Max, will you pass these sheets out?
MAX: Sure thing, Mrs. Rio.
Mrs. Rio said my name with bitter hatred. Yeesh, harsh woman.
MRS. RIO: And I have a few more hand-outs for you. Graded papers. Nick, will you please pass them out?
NICK: Yes Mrs. Rio.
MRS. RIO: And finally, I have a small assignment for you. A 3-page packet, reviewing what we covered this unit. Earl, would you pass these out?
EARL: No.
MRS. RIO: Excuse me?
Even I was amazed at this. Was Earl trying to make some novel of his own? Even I wouldn't dare say that straight to Mrs. Rio's face. Okay, maybe I would. But, the point is, it was unexpected.
EARL: I said, I won't pass them out.
MRS. RIO: Would you like to have detention?
EARL: No.
MRS. RIO: Then just pass out these papers!
EARL: I'd prefer not too.
MRS. RIO: But you will.
ME: But he won't.
MRS. RIO: You don't have any part in this, Chris!
EARL: He can say what he wants.
MRS. RIO: That's it! 1 hour detention to both of you!
Great, I got three hours with her. But, as long as it didn't evolve me getting eaten, I was fine with it. The only reason I had stuck up for Earl was because I defend troublemakers, like myself. Even if they're newly added to my class, I still will defend them.
NICK: Chris, what was that about?
We were coming out of Social Studies, Nick with a rather VERY confused look on his face.
ME: Nothing.
NICK: So…about the…you know…them?
ME: You mean the zom—
NICK: Yes, I mean them! And don't say their name out in public!
ME: Oh, well one kid from the class was infected.
NICK: Was he taken down?
ME: No, instead, he infected the coach.
NICK: How horrible! You had to see this with your own eyes!
ME: I've seen worse.
NICK: Like what?
ME: You.
NICK: Seriously, not the time for jokes—
ME: Sorry, just shaking off some bad energy from that classroom…
NICK: WHO CARES ABOUT CLASSROOMS WHEN ZO—er… THEY ARE WALKING AROUND!
ME: Well, first things first, by now, the entire gym is probably infected.
NICK: I think the kids would've been smart enough to dart for the doors.
ME: Well, what if they were stupid enough to believe it was a joke and stuck around? Then it would've spread!
NICK: Unlikely. But the number of them must've grown…somehow…a poor victim or two.
ME: When the threat reaches us, we'll find a way out.
NICK: What makes you so sure?
ME: I'm not sure about anything right now…
END CHAPTER TWO.