The Rock Hill 8th grade marching band students decided to brave a trip to Raccoon City again. Last time, we were attacked by zombies. We even lost someone to them, as I told someone on the bus that fateful day. How'd I know all this? I was with them last time. The zombie, who's name was Brandon, had stabbed me and threw me out a window. I still have a scars from both the window and the knife (or at least, I thought it was.) The window sliced into my skin, causing me to loose a lot of blood. I was to the point I was soaked in the thick substance.
David Michael, luckily, wasn't hurt as bad. When he woke up, my cousin first looked around to make sure there were no zombies or Brandon, then he looked for anyone who showed sign of life. That's when he found me. He looked out the window, upon finding it was broken, and saw me withered below. Quickly he dashed to a phone nearby. It was dead. Deciding to see me first, then find a pay phone somewhere, he tore down the stairs and outside, wanting to see if the person was dead. That's when he recognized me.
"No….no! Your parents are gonna kill me if I don't save you!" shouted David Michael out loud. After he realized what he had just done was stupid, he took off for a pay phone. However, upon returning with no luck of finding one a helicopter came in for a land. Needless to say, David Michael quickly explained the situation and managed us a lift for home, where they hospitalized me and forced David Michael to live with our Grandma Gannon.
Yet, now we've chosen to return. Though things started out alright, it soon started to go downhill. Brendan, a trumpet player and a friend of mine, told me about his crazy idea and I went along with it. After all, we did need to manage a way to protect ourselves. After we made sure everyone had the guns, sure enough the zombies attack.
I could just tell by the glint in his that Brandon recognized me instantly. The decayed Brandon grinned and grabbed a big barrel of what someone shouted was the T-virus. I braced myself, shoving my friend Rachel, who happened to be standing beside me, out of the way. Then he threw it.
The barrel banged against my head first before splitting. It was like a thousand knives pounding into my skull. How I didn't die right there on the spot I still can't figure out. Anyway, I was drenched in T-virus, then a wave of bullets hit me. I turned to see Billy, who'd just shot me in the head, and muttered, "How could you?"
That's when things started to turn black and grey, colors slipping away from me. It was the end for me, I remember thinking to myself. Though I was bleeding profusely from all my gun shot wounds, which were mostly in my stomach and top leg areas, what hurt the most was the virus, seeping into my skin and burning like I was on fire. I screamed in pain but no one listened.
Falling to my knees, only one thing crossed my mind. I wanted revenge.
I awoke to the sound of menacing laughter. It was Brandon, the old percussionist for our band. Was I in hell or something?
"No, you're not in hell," he said, still laughing which was starting to really agitate me.
"Then I'm in a living nightmare. How can you read my thoughts?" I asked, getting up off the floor. My head was a bit groggy, but I was stable none the less.
"Now that you're almost dead, your mind is linked to the other zombies. Therefore I can read your thoughts," he said in a bored sort of voice.
What a minute…..Almost dead? How can I be almost dead?
"Easily, you haven't been wounded a horribly as you think. Yes, you were shot in the head"-he continued reading my thoughts- "however, it wasn't in your most sensitive spot. Turns out the band can't shoot worth crap. Plus, you're infected with the T-virus which doesn't exactly turn you into a zombie, just a powerful mutant."
I had had enough. As soon as he called me a mutant, I took off running. He continued to laugh, but he didn't follow me. Good, I didn't want him to. When I passed a mirror in the hallway, I took a second look at myself. I was all scarred up. My legs, which weren't covered, had a bunch of bullet holes. Moving my hair, I saw the bloody spot the bullet had caused. All the bullets had been melted by the virus, so luckily I didn't have to perform the nasty job of removing them. Last but not least I looked down at my stomach, which was covered in blood.
"Just great. This was my favorite band shirt too," I sighed sadly.
Sprinting up some stairs, I looked back and noticed someone lying on the floor. It was Nikki, my friend. She had a piece of wood sticking out her head. For a second, I cried. Then I sobbed even more, realizing the band had just let her die like that. First, I removed the wood from her head. Then opened her back pack she had on to see if she had any clothes. She did.
After changing into her jeans and t-shirt, I took off for the roof. Helicopters were taking off, and I had to jump onto one to not be left behind. I wasn't the only one to jump though. On the other side of the helicopter was Brianna Hairston (a.k.a. Bob).
What was she doing here? Didn't she die? I remembered what Brandon had said about being connected to the other zombies and mutants. I tried to read her mind and succeeded. It turned out that she had been bitten by a ravenous dog and the band had shot her just like they'd shot me. Also, some of the T-virus had fallen on her hand where she'd been bitten, so she wasn't actually a zombie yet, right? I shook my head, very confused about this whole ordeal.
Bob looked over and smiled, her hand covered in blood. Not to mention her arms were covered in scratches, and blood was smeared all over her bare stomach. Apparently the dog had managed to rip the bottom half of her shirt.
The thought of not being alone comforted me as we rode the helicopter Ironton, Ohio. It landed on softball field, the others landing on the minor, p-wee, and little league fields. As the band gathered together, preparing to walk over to the high school, I took off for the Hairston's pasture. Bob followed me. Once we in well the woody area, I finally decided to stop and talk.
"So you're still alive?" I asked, though I knew very well she was.
"Yeah," said Bob, breaking a stick off the tree and waving it around. "At least I think that's what you call this. Feels like hell to me."
"I know the feeling," I said, sitting down beside her.
"Did you know Brendan was the one who started all this? That-that-"
"Yes, and go ahead and say it. It won't bother me."
"That bastard. If he'd just stayed with us instead of going downstairs, we could have tried to strategize instead of acting like a bunch of chicken with THEIR HEADS CUT OFF."
"Don't worry," I said, smirking, "We'll make sure he gets what he deserves. We'll make sure that whole band does. But we need to make a plan this time. Listen, how about we-"
And with that, Bob and me devised a plan so sinister that Brendan would wish he were dead instead of alive by the end.
On Monday morning, Rock Hill Middle School ran like always. Students arrived on buses or in cars, running into the school to get warm. Warmth. I wonder if I would ever feel it again. I barely even felt the coldness as I stood on the hill that day, looking down at the school. Bob had ran back down to the stable to get us two horses. We planned on riding them over to the school and set them lose in the parking lot during lunch. First, we were going to have fun with Brendan.
"I'm back," said Bob, walking the horses up. She had a book bag slung over her bag. "Got it out of Meagan's room. There's a first aid kit, and some clothes. Not to mention some food."
"Do we even need to eat anymore?" I asked ponderingly.
"I don't know. But, I guess it couldn't hurt," replied Bob, tying to horses to a nearby tree.
So the two mutants ate and changed into the sweater and jeans Bob had found in Meagan's (her cousin) room. Bob pulled her unruly brown hair back into a ponytail as I myself pulled mine in a half ponytail to hide my wound. We looked over each other thoroughly to make sure all scares, scratches, and wounds were covered.
"You're good," I told Bob, grabbing the book bag and handing it to her. "Here, you take keep a hold of it. We may need it later."
She nodded, and the two of us hopped on the horses, Bob giving me instructions. I was braving a ride on Jake, Meagan's white horse. Bob, on the other hand, had chosen to ride Little Bit, the brown one with a white patch on it's butt.
"If anyone can cause chaos, it's Little Bit."
When we reached the school on the far left end, we walked the horses around back and tied them up. Then we walked around the school and entered through Mrs. Hughes room. Judging by the clock, it was 1st period.
Bob opened the door and I thanked her before walking through it. Running, we both headed straight for our lockers, not bothering to sign in. Then we headed straight for the upstairs boys bathroom.
It took me a few minutes but I managed to get out the permanent marker from my pencil bag and wrote on the wall: "BRENDAN WILL PAY" in big bold letters. As we exited the bathroom, the bell rang signaling the end of first period. Now our pay back plan would officially begin.