Eliza's sobs had destroyed Chris' emotional endurance. Or what was left of it. His whole world had come crashing down in a matter of hours. He was strong and had endured a lot throughout his life, but he was beginning to lose himself. Eliza hadn't said a word for hours after they buried Lauren. He hated seeing his sister in such a state and he felt guilty for leaving them in the van unprotected, but Chris felt like he'd had no other choice. But Lauren had died in vain now, since they'd left without scratching the surface of the supplies from Stan's place, which Chris knew would be crammed full of stuff that could have kept all of them alive for a very long time. When the soldiers had come down the street, shooting corpses in the head as lorries full of troops drove over them, Chris and Mark had literally had to drag Eliza, the corpse of Laruen still warm in her arms, blood pooling on her chest, away from that horrible place. The last he saw of Stan's house, a soldier with a flamethrower was setting it ablaze, the flames reflected in the empty lenses of the soldier's gas masks.
At the same time, Chris thought it might have been a mercy. He knew whatever his fate was going to be in this new world, it wouldn't be pleasant. Maybe a bullet to the head wasn't such a bad way to go. Chris, Eliza and Mark had continued their journey on foot. The thugs had damaged something in the van's engine that couldn't be repaired. All three had been silent since Lauren's funeral, if you could call it that. But Chris had been the only one on guard, Mark seemed distracted and Chris knew what he was thinking about. His son.
That's where they were going now. Mark had told Chris where his son's school was. Chris knew the place and took lead. Mark needed a break. Chris was constantly sweeping the area with his pistol, aiming in the direction of every single sound. He thought it was too quiet. Maybe the fuckers were attracted by something big going on, Chris thought. He was sure he heard distant explosions in the direction of central London.
After a long tense walk, they arrived at the school Mark's son had been attending. Mark suddenly became animate. Eliza perked up too, probably out of the desire to survive. This sight made Chris happy, Eliza hadn't completely lost the will to live. Maybe she'll get through this in time, he thought. They approached the front entrance to the school. Chris looked in and saw a huge number of walkers inside. He then saw a second, smaller building that was detached from the rest of the school, less walkers inside, he guessed. Chris sprinted towards the other building.
"What are you doing?" Mark shouted at him. Chris just kept running. Mark's shout had given them less time than he had hoped. Chris burst in through the door of the second building and searched for a fire alarm. He pulled it and a piercingly loud bell rang in that section of the school. Chris' head felt like it was going to burst into flames from the dizzying volume of the shrill ringing. He almost stumbled into the clutches of a walker in his state, before hastily putting a bullet in its face. He ran out of the entrance and blocked it with a table that had been lying in the corridor, covered in bloody handprints. The walkers seemed more interested in the sound of the bell than Chris now, and he saw the undead from the main school shamble towards the detached building. They entered cautiously now, as the corridor was completely silent. They saw classrooms full of blood, littered with the half eaten corpses of the children that had belonged in the classes. Mark's eyes didn't linger on a single one, not opening the doors. They knew there would be no survivors in those rooms. Mark seemed to know where his son would have been. Mark stopped.
"This is his classroom." He choked. Chris put his hand on his friend's shoulder and nodded.
"I've got you man. No matter what's in there, I'm here for you." Chris said.
They opened the door together.
They saw the teacher hanging from the ceiling, a belt around his throat. He'd hung himself. Yet he wasn't dead. The teacher growled and swung an arm lazily at Eliza, who screamed and jumped back. Chris went for his gun.
"Mark, hurry up man. I'm going to shoot him, but the walkers will come when I fire. We don't have much time." Chris said, hurriedly. Mark was hunched over the body of a little girl who had been eaten to an almost unrecognisable state, her face was barely intact and the rest of her body was an empty skeleton with snapped bones and small chunks of flesh that the monsters hadn't bothered to
pick off the bone.
"She was called Suzie. My boy had a crush on her. I bought a box of chocolates so that he had something to give to her on Valentine's Day…" Mark said, his voice empty. Chris looked to the corner of the room where a young teaching assistant had gathered all of the children and shot them all before shooting herself. Most of the dead children weren't entirely dead. Their quiet groans could barely be heard. They were too weak to even move.
"They can't have all been bitten." Chris observed.
"What the fuck? How does that fucking help us right now!" Mark shouted, disgusted at Chris. Children had died and all Chris could do was observe coldly. Like he had no emotion. Chris put his gun to the teacher's head and fired. Chris then quickly stripped the corpse to its underwear. Mark gave him a stormy look, until he realised what Chris was trying to get across.
"No bite-marks?" Mark asked.
"No bite-marks." Chris confirmed.
"So this is going to happen to all of us? No matter how we die?" Mark asked.
"Unless it destroys the brain. We're all infected, Mark," Chris said
"We're all infected?" Mark asked.
Chris just nodded.
They knew the walkers were coming.
"Is he here?" Chris asked.
"No." Mark said.
"Let's go." Chris said.
Mark and Eliza left the room and sprinted towards the back exit.
Chris stayed behind, firing shots into the undead children in the corner until his gun was empty.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
Chris then exited the classroom. The walkers were close to him now and he couldn't see Mark and Eliza. He ran towards the exit. Once outside, Chris saw two corpses, lying out on the empty playground.
He knew who they were.
Mark was on his knees sobbing into the smaller body. A bullet through the boy's head, and his mother's, the gun that had killed them lay next to Mark's ex-wife, Sandra's cold, dead hands. The unmoving bodies of dead again walkers surrounded them.
Tom and Sandra were dead.
Mark had gone beyond crying or sobbing into genuine howls of agony. In a rage he grabbed the pistol from Sandra's hand and aimed it at her dead face, screaming as he pulled the trigger over and over again, every click of the empty chamber like a knife in the defeated man's soul.
Chris hauled Mark to his feet but his friend swung a savage backhand, his arm colliding with Chris' face. He felt blood rushing out of the side of his head and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Chris fell and Mark returned to his mourning.
As Chris began to black out, he saw the figure of a ragged old man in an army uniform firing shots at the walkers pouring out of the school before he dragged Mark away and Eliza moved Chris' unconscious body away from the slaughter…