Chapter Eight

Tucked up in Squall's double bed in his newly commissioned Commander's Suite, Seifer was relaxing after a strenuous battle against what he had first thought of as figments of Raijin's imagination, from the hotel to the Garden. Upon arrival at Garden, Seifer noticed that about a third of the cadets at least had gotten wise to the danger of this vacuous yet deathly, multiplying foe, and had returned home, so Garden was rather quiet and deserted. Which was just as well, because nobody heard his and Squall's shouts of joy, delight and finally ecstasy, as they shared a hot, luxurious bubble bath together.

Squall joined him from the kitchen nook, bringing two steaming mugs of cocoa with him; he was discussing his day with Rinoa, who had been particularly irksome today.

"… ever since she became Kramer's personal secretary, she thinks she's queen of the frigging world!" Squall complained. Ever since he had learnt of the Headmaster's terrible treatment of Seifer during his questioning by the police, he had referred to Headmaster Cid by his surname, not out of respect, but defiance against this man he had once admired.

Taking his cocoa, Seifer rolled his eyes. "Have you even dumped the bitch yet?" he inquired spitefully.

Squall placed his mug on his bedside table, and slid into bed, next to his lover, shaking his head, so his mane of gingery-brown hair tumbled into his face. "I… can't," he sighed, watching Seifer light up his sixth cigarette since he had been in his company. "I just… can't hurt her."

Blowing out a lungful of smoke, Seifer grinned.

"Well then, Squall," he said cheerfully. "Why don't you use your head?"

Squall smiled, reaching underneath the covers to peel off his boxers.

Seifer smiled, and rolled his eyes. "Your brain, Leonhart, if you still have it," he said, exasperated. "What I'm saying is, why don't you treat her like dirt so much, she'll be forced to dump you?"

"I'll treat you like dirt," he growled into Seifer's ear, fingering his left nipple, as Seifer took another drag of his cigarette."

Seifer giggled a little. "Get off," he said, guiding Squall's hand away from his chest and towards his stomach. "That tickles!" Then he sighed as he flicked his ash into the ashtray on his bedside table.

"I've got a lot on my mind, Squall," he heaved.

"Like what?" Squall asked, resting his chin on Seifer's naked shoulder, allowing his hand to brush against Seifer's thigh.

Seifer violently stubbed out his cigarette, and loudly exhaled the last of the smoke. "The stuff I saw today," he huffed sleepily, "was awful."

"What?" asked Squall, further intrigued. "Is it about those things that have been wandering around Balamb?" He was under the impression that these creatures were a humanoid mutation of a new monster that could be killed relatively easily; that was based on the report Raijin had e-mailed to him earlier.

"Kind of," Seifer replied, stretching an arm, and wrapping it tenderly around Squall's chest. "It's just… the sheer scale of the damage, to the town, to the road up here… thank Hyne they haven't penetrated Garden yet."

Trying not to think of another form of penetration he was eager to indulge in with Seifer, Squall frowned. This was the first that he'd these creatures might be a pandemic threat.

"And get this," Seifer continued. I know this might sound stupid," He took a breath. "But Raijin claims he saw Chi… I mean… Dincht's dead family.

Squall's eyes widened, sexual congress now the furthest thing from his mind. "No… it couldn't be… not in Balamb… not in reality, for Hyne's sake!" He had heard of the dead rising; he had seen it too many times with Rinoa – the stupid B-movies she had been dragging him to through their year together.

Seifer frowned. "What are you talking…" he began, but was interrupted by an urgent series of thumps on the door.

"Shit!" Squall hissed, suddenly panicked. Leaping out of bed, he groped for his dressing gown, abandoned on the floor, and threw it on, tying it hastily, but tightly.

"Seifer," he announced, grabbing the heavy glass ashtray, spilling the dusty contents on the floor. "I'm borrowing this."

Seifer was confused. "What for?" he asked.

Squall turned to face Seifer to answer to answer him, but backed cautiously towards the door as he spoke. In case it's one of those… things," he answered.

"But what about…"

"If it's gonna break through the door, I won't have time to grab Lionheart," he explained, referring to his prize gunblade. "Stay here, but be prepared to come if I…"

The thumping resumed.

"All right, all right!" Squall called in frustration, hading for the door.

Even though he got the feeling a security chain would be inadequate protection against a mob of marauding man-eaters, he fastened it anyway before opening the door.

Through the small gap, he saw an ashen-faced Rinoa. She was visibly shaking, and her mascara was smeared across her eyelids and down her cheeks; she had quite obviously been crying.

Squall detached the chain and flung the door open straight away. "Rinoa," he announced pointedly so that Seifer might hear. "Whatever's wrong?" he asked, as tenderly as he felt like.

"Oh, Squall," Rinoa quavered. "it's terrible and it's awful… it's the worst thing to happen since…" The name 'Quistis' died on her lips as she embraced Squall, who stood rigidly, not sure what to do, reluctant to show affection to this girl, even though she was upset, and not wanting to drop his makeshift ashtray weapon.

"What is it?" he asked, as Rinoa released him to wipe her nose with an already crusty blue woollen sleeve.

"H-Headmaster Cid," she sobbed… "He's…"

"What?" Squall interrupted tactlessly. "Sacked you?"

"NO!" Rinoa screamed in fury. She then composed herself slightly. "He's… I found him," she wept, "covered in blood… his…" Once again Rinoa had to compose her thoughts. "…his insides splattered all over his desk, his face… oh, his face…"

Squall had heard enough. "All right!" he exclaimed at Rinoa forcefully. "I think we've established that he's dead!"

"Not just dead," Rinoa wept, seemingly unperturbed by Squall's sudden outburst. "Murdered, just like Quisty and the Dinchts…"

This reminded Squall that Zell's doomed family were supposed to be dead, but they had been spotted roaming the streets of Balamb a mere twelve hours ago. "Rinoa," he said gently, dropping the ashtray with a thud and grabbing the girl's shoulders and looking straight into her bloodshot, dark brown eyes, "this may sound crazy, but you need to get as far away from Balamb as possible,"

"Why?" Rinoa hissed, shrugging away from Squall. "Why should I? As Headmaster Cid's secretary it is my duty to assist in the matter of helping to solve his murder."

"He may reanimate at any time, Rinoa," Squall said frankly, "and then he'd be after you."

Rinoa looked Squall up and down critically, as if he were mad. Her eyes stopped at his bare feet, marking the ashtray on the floor. She began sniffing at the air. "When did you start smoking?" she questioned suspiciously.

"I haven't," Squall said truthfully.

"Then why can I smell it… and why have you got an ashtray – a dirty ashtray – in your quarters?" Rinoa accused pointing at the offending article.

"I thought you were one of…" Squall started to explain but caught himself, knowing he would sound ridiculous, as it was clear that Rinoa did not believe him. "Forget it," he finished, folding his arms and turning away from her.

Rinoa's eyes began to shine with tears. "I thought you'd changed," she croaked, trying to swallow her tears. "Instead I see you're still the same cold, unfeeling… moron!" She had begun to sob again. "Tell you what, Squall, I'll handle this matter. Just go back to… being a Commander, however the hell you do that!" she blazed over her tears. "And what's more," she went on furiously, "we are through! I don't ever wanna see you again! Ever!" She stepped out of Squall's suite, and with one last fiery look into Squall's icy blue eyes, grabbed the door handle and slammed it firmly shut.

Squall felt strangely calm as he stepped away from his entrance lobby, back into his living quarters.

"That went well, said a fully-clothed Seifer with a smirk, perched on the edge of the bed.

"They're here," Squall breathed, ignoring the comment that was supposed to have made him feel better. "Headmaster Cid is dead."

Seifer gave a sarcastic frown. "Hang on," he said, affecting confusion, "wasn't he 'Kramer' ten minutes ago?"

Resisting the urge to tell his partner to shut up, Squall rifled through his drawers and wardrobe, and dressed in his usual belted leather pants, T-shirt and jacket combo, Pulling on his boots, he could be pretty certain that Seifer knew that the Headmaster had been attacked and killed by these mutant beings, and could become one at a moment's notice. Seifer was also well aware that now he had Squall all to himself, no girlfriend to complicate matters.

"So," Seifer drawled, watching Squall load up and prepare Lionheart, "what do we do now?"

"We leave," Squall said emotionlessly, stuffing an excess of Potions into his inside jacket pocket. He then scooped up as many Phoenix Downs he could cram into his pockets, and stuffed them in. "We get as far away from Balamb as we can. But first…" He wandered over to his computer console and turned it on. He motioned to the desk where he had grabbed his healing items. "You should stock up on stuff, too," he told Seifer. "I'm just writing an open warning to everyone," he explained, sitting down at the console and opening his ChocoGo Messaging e-mail program.

As Seifer filled his trenchcoat pockets with provisions as he had been advised, Squall typed the message:

Dear All,

At approximately 23:30 yesterday (Tuesday) evening, I was informed that our Headmaster Cid Kramer, was brutally murdered in the same way as our beloved instructor, Miss Quistis Trepe, and at least three local people.

As a result, Balamb Garden is no longer safe. I have it on good authority that a new danger, much more severe than the time-bending Sorceress Ultimecia, is creeping ever closer.

These people who are gorged upon and slaughtered in this way will rise again and feast upon the living. It appears that if you are bitten, you will die and join the ranks of what I can only describe as Them, the undead. Surely this explains Miss Tilmitt's apparent 'grave robbery', and the case of Instructor Trepe's bodybag.

Please, for your own safety, leave Garden as soon as you can. If your student number ends with a 9, please take care of the remaining junior classmen

Good luck and Godspeed.

Cdr. Squall Leonhart.

"Okay, ready," Seifer called as Squall clicked Send To All. "What's the plan?"

Squall looked pensive as he waited for his terminal to shut down. He couldn't be sure Galbadia wasn't infested with the things as well, and places such as Winhill and the orphanage in Centra would be far too remote, and they couldn't summon help from these places if they ran into trouble. Squall then reminded himself that a stop-off in Winhill would be wise, as Squall was sure his beloved sister-by-adoption, Ellone, had returned there to live, to give back some of the kindness she had been given from that town as a child.

"It is settled," Squall said confidently. "We shall head to Winhill to rescue Ellone. Then we shall make for the safest place I know: Esthar."

Guarded cleverly by holograms, which made the whole city seem invisible, Esthar was undoubtedly a safe haven: if you wanted to disappear, you should go there.

The intrepid pair abandoned their cocoa, and left the Garden hand in hand, to flee Balamb by train. They were unimpeded at the front gate; barely noticing the gatekeeper slumped in his booth

Bleeding from a gouge mark in his back.

Pearly eyes snapping open, his new afterlife just beginning.