The End

Akarai Sabe's POV

I was late to class on the day it all ended. I was already late when I decided to attend class that afternoon, but not by much. It didn't matter to me how late I was. Nobody else would care, either.

I walked up the stairs that trailed outside the main school building. My class was on the school's top floor, so I had to climb four flights. Someone was leaning against the wall halfway between the second and third floors. He was a second-year student I only vaguely knew.

"Komuro," I greeted as I walked past him.

"Sabe," Takashi Komuro greeted me, but his voice had no energy. With tousled dark hair that seemed perpetually unruly and eyes that reflected a quiet intensity, he nonetheless tried to portray an air of nonchalance. He didn't want to be bothered right now. He bothered with the school uniform even less than I did—he wore the blazer and trousers, but he had his red t-shirt on instead of the white button-down shirt specified in the dress code. He looked neater than I did, at least. "You skipping too?"

"Nah, decided to go at the last second." I waved without turning around. "Enjoy playing hooky."

"Good luck with the teacher."

I smirked. "My teachers are used to it."

And that was it. I rounded the corner at the top of that flight of stairs and continued to class.

Or at least I would have. But a slightly more distracting schoolmate interrupted me in the hall.

"Delinquent," Saya Takagi said with biting scorn as she stood in my way. She was a force of intellect; a small part of me even meant that as a compliment. It was difficult to look anywhere but at her striking pink hair, which was styled in a pair of two long ponytails and stood vividly against the dull backdrop of Fujimi Academy's corridors, but the penetrating gaze of her orange eyes, blazing with the intensity of her glare, did a decent job distracting from it. She was hot, there was no doubt, but her attitude had a way of turning people off. As infuriating as she was, I sometimes liked it.

"Bitch," I chirped, then tried to dodge around her.

She stepped in my way. "Actually going to class today? I can't say I see the point. Why do you even bother coming to school?"

"Because I want to."

She scoffed. "You wanna be here but spend most of your time cutting class? What a joke."

"Yes, yes, it's a joke. Can you laugh and get out of my way, please?" Before I move you, I added mentally. I was at once ashamed of myself.

Takagi scoffed again, but she stepped past me instead of keeping on about it. "Idiot," she said as she walked past.

I went on my way again. This time, nobody interrupted me, and I made it to my classroom. I didn't bother knocking before I entered, and while everyone's eyes turned to me, the teacher's didn't stay long. He was used to this. He didn't even bother telling me to hurry up and get to my seat. I went over to it and slumped down. A few people were still staring at me.

The classroom had one empty seat even after I'd sat down. I was only mildly surprised by that. Busujima turning up to classes we had together was always a coin toss.

Thinking about it made me scowl.

I tried to ignore the stirring of emotion that something as simple as that empty desk was causing in me. I paid attention to what the teacher was saying. It was maths, which I hated, but I wanted to do better. It had become important to me to do better.

Ten minutes after I'd sat down and begun listening to the teacher rattle off numbers, formulas, and solutions, the PA system screeched to life, causing the teacher to stop. It was startling. Regular announcements never interrupted classes like this. Everyone, including me, looked up at the speaker in the top corner of the room, wondering what was so important it was worth interrupting class over.

The words that came out of that speaker would haunt me for the rest of my life.

"This announcement is for all students!" The breathless, panic-stricken voice emanating from the speaker was that of the principal. "An emergency situation is taking place inside the school right now! All students must follow your teachers' instructions and evacuate! I repeat—"

The principal's voice cut off, and I could hear other noises coming through the speaker. Movement. Then, wordless noises: Groans and moans. Somebody was in his office with him. They didn't sound right—the noises they were making were the sort of noises I would probably make if I were particularly ill. But less tired or sluggish than that and more urgent. Desperate for something.

When the principal spoke next, his voice was quick, frantic. Panicked. "Get away from me! Get back! Aaaah! Aaaaaaaaah! Help! Heeeeelp!" Then a blood-curdling scream. "Aaaaarrrrrgh!"

Then, the PA system clicked off.

The classroom was cloaked in an oppressive silence, so thick and heavy that any noise I tried to make was crushed before it could so much as form within my throat. The principal's screams of pain, the desperation for his life showing through his tone, echoed through my mind—they have never really stopped.

Then, all at once, a sudden rush of panic.

I felt it just as much as everyone else. Suddenly, I was a prey animal whose instincts warned me of a predator I could not see. I was the deer in the woods who'd just heard one of its brethren fall victim to the bear. Everyone in the classroom stood up, chairs clattered noisily to the floor, and it was a fight to get to the door. With everyone crowding around it at once, it was a nigh-impossible task to get it open, but eventually, somebody did. A girl. She squeezed through before it was open all the way and fled into the corridor.

She was the luckiest one. It was havoc as the others managed to wrench it open the rest of the way and force themselves out. There was pushing, punching, and kicking as everyone clogged the open doorway, all desperate to leave. I saw some poor soul in the centre of the crowd fall, and it didn't look as though anyone paid them any mind as they ran. Even our teacher was swept up in it, trying and not regaining some control over the class.

He would have been surprised if he had paid me a moment's notice. I hadn't moved an inch.

Oh, I was terrified; you can bet your ass on that. I felt the fear flooding my body as certainly as any of the others. My instincts screamed at me: Run! Hide! Something here means you harm!

But I remained seated. I gripped the edges of my desk so hard that it probably left indentations, but I stayed put. Rushing for the door was pointless; I recognised that the second the chairs began hitting the floor. Everyone was going to bottle-neck their way out, and many of them would get hurt in the process.

So, I sat.

I waited.

Eventually, the classroom emptied, although I could still hear the sounds of panicked students (and likely staff) clogging the corridors. But I was alone in the classroom—except for the student who'd gone down in the rush for the door, who was still lying on the floor, groaning, barely moving.

I didn't know her name, which made me feel guilty. Of course, I didn't know her name—there was only one person in this class I cared to pay attention to, and it was because Busujima maddened me in ways I could not yet define myself. This girl was one of the others. Brown hair cut into a bob, a little on the chubbier side. Glasses. She almost reminded me of a friend of mine. She was staring at the ceiling, and a trail of blood was running out of her mouth and down her cheek. She'd been trampled badly in the scuffle.

I finally stood from my desk and walked over to her. I knelt near her head. "Hey," I said, waving a hand before her face. "Can you hear me? Can you speak?"

"… Y-Yes," she croaked with incredible difficulty.

I should get help, I thought. But the sounds of panic in the corridors were still going strong—as were an increasing number of screams which sounded pained. And, beneath it all, a growing sound of moaning and groaning like that which had come from the principal's office in the moments before the PA system cut off. I had a sinking feeling that there was no help to be found, and any that was would be busy out there. Nobody would come until things had calmed down.

"Can you move?" I asked.

She was trying, I could see. Her hands twitched, and her arms lifted a little, but her legs remained utterly still. "A-A little. I," she swallowed, and her eyes glistened with tears, "I can't feel my legs."

I had a nasty feeling she was going to say something like that. "Okay, um …" I looked around the room. I know that when you call a hospital, they usually tell you not to move whomever the patient is, but the thought of just leaving her on the floor didn't sit well with me. I spied the teacher's desk in the corner, wider than any of the students' desks. She should be able to lie comfortably on it. "All right. What's your name?"

"M-M-Makiko. Makiko Yamashita."

"All right, Yamashita. I'm gonna lift you, okay? I'm gonna lay you down on the teacher's desk until help gets here. Is that alright with you?"

She didn't respond verbally this time. She hesitated for a few moments, then gave me a shaky nod.

I considered picking her up under her arms but immediately discarded that idea. Too rough. One arm for her legs and the other for her back would be the way to do it. She didn't react at all as I got an arm under her legs, but when I slid my hand beneath her to lift her back, she released a quiet moan of pain. "Sorry," I said. Then I lifted her. I grunted a little as I did—she was on the heavier side—but taking her weight wasn't too much of a struggle. All that weightlifting had done me good.

I carried her to the corner of the room and laid her down on the teacher's desk, paying no mind to all the paperwork I placed her atop. I was careful when releasing her, moving the hand on her back up to the back of her head so she didn't bang it off the desk when I let go. I took a step back when I was done. "There," I said. "That's better, isn't it?"

She nodded but said nothing. Then she coughed, and more blood came spilling out of her mouth. I became more than worried over her injuries—I was beginning to suspect she wouldn't be here for long.

"Why …?" she asked quietly, so quietly that I'm still surprised I heard her. I leaned closer to listen to her better. "Why are you taking care of me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, confused.

More blood ran down her face as her mouth opened and turned upwards in a weak smile. "You're not so bad at all, Sabe."

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. Not many people had ever said that to me, mainly because it wasn't true. "I guess not," I said without conviction, unwilling to argue with a girl I thought might be dying.

Yamashita's smile widened. "Y-Your face is cute when you're embarrassed."

She took a deep breath and made a few more choking sounds, painting the lower parts of her face with more blood.

She never breathed again.

It happened so quickly that I had to blink and look closer to ensure I was right. Her chest, which hadn't been moving much in the first place, was completely still. She was looking at me, but there was nothing in her eyes. I reached out two fingers and placed them on her neck. No pulse.

Dead.

I reached for her face and gently closed her eyes. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? I patted down my pockets and found nothing. Why did I have to give up smoking? I needed something, some release. But there was nothing here. So, I walked to the far side of the room, sat at a random desk, held my head in my hands, and—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

—screamed. I screamed as loud and as long as my lungs and throat would allow me to. Tears streamed down my face. I didn't even know Yamashita, but I had also never seen anybody die except for her. And it felt right that someone should cry for her, and I was the only one here. So, I was on mourning duty.

"You're not so bad at all, Sabe," she'd said.

She was wrong. So wrong.

"Can you laugh and get out of my way please?" Before I move you, I added mentally.

That's what I'd been thinking when Takagi had gotten in my way earlier. I didn't like her and wouldn't pretend to, but I hated thinking like that. I'd have done it, too—if she'd pressed the issue, I'd have pushed her out of my way and gone on, no question. I could drop bad habits all I wanted, quit smoking, stop hanging out in shady spots around town, and stop being a dickhead vandal, but my anger issues were always there. They never went away. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.

I don't know how long I sat there, but I didn't move until Yamashita did.

Yes, you read that right. She moved.

It was a slight movement, one I likely wouldn't have noticed if it had not been for the piece of paper it sent off the desk. I heard the rustle and looked across the room to see the teacher's paperwork floating to the ground. My eyes fixed upon Yamashita, and hope dared to spark in me. That spark became a raging inferno of hope as she began moving.

But something was wrong.

Her skin wasn't just pale, but grey. Almost green. Not the sort of skin colour you'd even see on a corpse. And the noises coming from her throat … were the same as the ones I'd heard in the corridors, the same that had come from the principal's office in the last moments of the announcement.

Then I saw her eyes, and it was all I could do not to scream.

They were pure white, the pupils and irises having wholly vanished. And bloodshot, but not red—the veins in Yamashita's eyes were black.

"What the fuck?!" I exclaimed.

Her face snapped toward me, the lips peeling from her teeth in an unmistakably hungry snarl. Her whole body shifted, and she fell to the classroom floor. But if she felt the impact, she showed no sign. She crawled across the room toward me one arm in front of the other, her legs trailing limply behind her. I was reminded somewhat obscenely of the merman from The Cabin in the Woods.

A burst of deranged laughter escaped me as something broke in my head that could never be repaired. There was a corpse crawling toward me. A corpse! It was absurd, yet it was happening.

I didn't know what the thing that was once Yamashita would do if it reached me, but I didn't want to find out. I leapt from my chair, leaving it to clatter to the floor as I did, and made for the door. I yanked it open, stepped out …

… and froze in my tracks as carnage unfolded before me.

Blood. Everywhere. The once dull corridors of Fujimi Academy had been painted a grizzly shade of red. But there were remarkably fewer dead bodies than the scene would have had me expect—stationary ones, anyway. Several students were peppered throughout the hallway, each with the same sickly grey complexion as Yamashita. Each one was moaning or groaning, and they were all wandering, completely aimless like potheads with the munchies but ten times more terrifying.

I looked closer at one end of the hall and couldn't help but exclaim horror and disgust. "Oh, fucking hell!"

Several of my classmates were kneeling around the twitching body of my teacher.

They were eating him, just sinking their teeth right into his body and ripping bits off. Two were munching on his neck while a third was pulling out guts through a hole in his stomach.

As soon as I yelled, every blank-eyed face in the corridor turned toward me. The moans gained new volume and a tone that sounded almost like excitement.

Instinctively, I stepped back again and slammed the classroom door. It was only after I'd done so that Yamashita re-entered my awareness, and I spun around to see where she was.

She was right behind me.

"Shit!"

I kicked out on instinct, nailing her right in the face. Her nose broke with a loud crunch. The force of the kick knocked her away a little, but other than that, it was like I hadn't hit her at all. She didn't seem to feel any pain.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The ones in the hallway were banging on the door behind me. My heart thundered inside my chest, and I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. I needed to get out of here. The classroom had two doors, one at the front and one at the back. I was next to the one at the back. The one at the front didn't seem to be under assault, so that looked like my way out.

But I had a problem.

Yamashita. She was between me and the door, and while I could give her a wide berth, I didn't want to risk taking the extra time. The others might break through this door in those precious few seconds.

"I'm sorry, Yamashita," I whispered, then did what I felt I had to do.

I raised my leg and brought it across her snarling face again. Her head snapped violently to the side. Then I raised my leg higher and brought it down on top of her head. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. I kept going until I heard the crack of her skull splitting open, and her blood was running all over the floor.

I didn't waste any time taking in what I'd done. I could be horrified with myself later. I had to get moving.

I ran to the other door, leaving bloodied footprints from the foot I'd used to crack that thing's head open, and yanked it open just as I heard the door at the back of the room give way. I saw the dead things tumbling into the classroom through that door as I fled out of the other.

I made for the stairs I'd come up on my way to class, but I knew it would be no easy task to get to them as soon as I turned my first corner. There were more of … Them. Those dead things. They were all over the corridors. I ducked back behind the wall and cursed to myself, this time internally. I didn't want to draw attention. What should I do?

I needed someplace to hide while I thought of a plan.

Another classroom?

No, no. Too easy to get into. I need something that locks.

A bathroom?

Hmm … possible. I could sit quietly in a cubicle for a bit, but … I would feel too trapped.

It clicked.

The student council room!

It was a decently sized room on this floor, not far from where I was, and it locked from the inside. At least, I'd heard it did. I hoped I hadn't heard wrong.

I turned and walked slowly back the way I came. They hadn't come out of the classroom yet, so I could walk past with little difficulty. I kept going and turned another corner. There were more of Them in this corridor, but less than the other groups I'd seen so far. Only two. And they were between me and my safe haven.

I resisted the urge to yell as I charged them. I grabbed the first one I came across by the hair and heaved its head into the wall. Blood splattered onto the wall instantly as its nose and several teeth broke, but it was still "alive," for lack of a better word. So, I heaved again before it could turn the tables and attack. More blood, still moving. Again. There was a sick, squelching noise this time, and its body went limp. The sudden shift in its centre of gravity as it ceased to stand almost made me drop it. I grunted as I held up the now definitely dead body, peeling it away from the wall for my next move. There were fragments of shattered bone mixed in among the blood on the wall, along with chunks of some grey substance I didn't even want to think about.

The other was approaching me by that point, so I hurled the other's body into its path. It tripped and fell, unleashing a wail-like moan as it did. I silenced it with a few stomps to the back of its head. Its skull exploded outwards. I could have sworn I saw one of its eyeballs rolling away through the bloody mess. These shoes are going to get ruined by the end of the day.

I hurried over to the student council room, praying that it wasn't locked already and then praying that it was because that meant someone else might be alive. I tried the door, and it opened at once. The room was empty. I stepped inside and closed the door, then checked for a lock. It did have one. I locked the door.

I walked over to a chair, sat down, and let out the loudest, most prolonged sigh ever.

Then I just sat there for a while.

I didn't keep track of how long I was sitting there, but I think it was at least an hour, probably more. I didn't know what to do. They were everywhere. I had gotten lucky in the corridors directly outside my classroom only because everyone had been fleeing the classrooms, I was sure. They'd been pursued elsewhere. As I was on the top floor, I imagined the bulk of the horde was on the floors below me, where everyone would have been running. That gave me decent prospects of surviving up here but not great ones of surviving further down.

Still, I can't stay here forever, I decided. I heaved another sigh and stood from the chair. First order of business is finding a weapon. I'm a tough bastard, but I was under no illusion that I could continue with nothing but my fists and my shoes like I had done up here. I would need something else.

I looked around the room. Slim pickings in here. It was just tables and chairs.

And the window.

My curiosity overtook my need to find a weapon, and I walked over to the window to see what I'd be dealing with when I got out of there.

Well, I thought, my eyes widening, I was right about it being more dangerous downstairs.

They were everywhere.

It hadn't taken long for the school to fall entirely. I couldn't see a single living soul, just what looked like a few hundred walking corpses—a veritable sea of Them. Pools of blood scattered all over the place, some of them having flown into each other so much that the ground itself looked painted red. I needed a weapon if I planned to get out of here.

But even if I did make it out, what then? I doubted this stopped with the school.

A shudder ran through me as I pictured a city full of the walking dead, hungry for the flesh of the living. It filled me with the sort of terror I hadn't experienced since I was a child. I felt small and helpless.

I didn't want to be alone against all that.

I hope Kohta's doing okay, I thought. Then I tensed up. It was the first I'd thought of my only friend since this whole thing started. I was so concerned with keeping myself alive that I hadn't had time to wonder whether the one person in this school who'd ever given me the time of day was still among the ranks of the living. I hoped he was, but I knew I couldn't afford to worry about it. If he were alive, I would probably come across him on my way out.

Hopefully. I knew it was unlikely, but lying to myself about the odds seemed a harmless allowance.

I looked around. The pickings were slim as far as potential weapons went. The student council room consisted of one large table in the centre of the room, surrounded by chairs, a desk in the corner (which I assumed was for a teacher sitting in on meetings) with an office chair by it, some filing cabinets along the back wall, and a chalkboard on the front wall. That was all. As good a hiding place as this was, it was lacking on the defensive front.

Unless … I hummed to myself, bent down, and examined the legs of the table. It was a big table, and the legs were pretty thick. I reached out and grasped one. It was pretty flimsy metal, but metal is metal, and I could do some damage with it. Yeah, this'll do.

It was a big table, so this was going to be a bit of a pain in the ass. First, I moved all of the chairs out from beneath it and stacked them all up in front of the door, reflecting that the bonus protection couldn't hurt. Then I went to one side of the table, set my hands on its underside, and heaved upwards. It wasn't particularly heavy, but its size made it awkward to move. I couldn't lay it down, either. Once I'd hoisted it onto its side, my only recourse was to prop it up against the wall. I took a second to breathe before moving on to the next part.

Unscrewing one of the legs was going to be the hard part. I didn't exactly carry a screwdriver on me at all times. What I did have was some loose change in the inside pocket of my blazer, and with any luck, one of the coins would be thin enough to make a good substitute. I sifted through my pockets for it, picked out the coin most likely to work, and dropped the rest unceremoniously to the floor. I doubted I would need it.

The process of unscrewing the table leg was tedious. I'm right-handed, but I use my left hand—because of an old, long-healed injury, my right hand has a nasty habit of stiffening up, and it's especially tricky for me to handle small objects with it. My fingers ached like a bitch after, but I did it. I tested the weight in one hand and then the other, and then I took a test swing. It would do. It wasn't ideal, but it would do for now.

Now I need an escape plan. Probably impossible to avoid all of them on the way out, but maybe if I'm careful, I can find a route that—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The scream made me tense up. The school had been basically silent for an hour or so. It hadn't taken the students and staff very long to die en masse. That sign of life … It was what I needed. I wasn't alone. I didn't need to escape from that school alone.

As long as they're still alive when I get to them, I thought pessimistically.

I couldn't afford to delay if I wanted to avoid that eventuality.

I unlocked the student council room door and took off running.

The scream was loud and it sounded like it came from somewhere below me, so that meant whoever it was had to be on the third floor. One down. I raced back toward the stairs I'd come up earlier, back when things were normal. The corridor still had some of Them in it, but not many, and those that were there were also going toward the stairs. They must have been reacting to the scream just as I was.

Thus, I was given an opportunity to test the effectiveness of my improvised weapon. I ran up behind one and took an unhesitating swing. His head cracked open like an Easter egg. I took a moment to be surprised—I hadn't expected the table leg to be that effective. Something about being dead must have made them extra easy to damage. That was good.

I killed two more the same way, two full-strength swings to the sides of their heads, caving them in, and kicked another down the stairs, its head exploding open upon collision with the floor at the bottom. I'm pretty sure it broke its neck falling down the stairs before it even hit the bottom.

I didn't pause. Just kept going.

At the bottom of the stairs, I ran straight into someone else running past them. My arm raised instinctively, ready to strike, but as soon as I saw the very not-dead skin tone of Komuro's face, I lowered it again. It did nothing to calm my racing heartbeat, but seeing another living soul brought a palpable sense of relief.

"Komuro," I said breathlessly, glancing up the stairs. "Fancy seeing you here again."

He nodded in acknowledgement but didn't really respond. "Did you hear that scream?" he asked. He was holding a baseball bat, and he also looked like he was about two seconds away from hitting me with it.

"From upstairs, yeah." I glanced to the side and took note that Komuro wasn't alone—he had a girl with him. She had long, orange-brown hair that was tied together at the very bottom, with two long strands sticking up from the top of her head. Quite pretty. She had red eyes, which was interesting. She was holding a long pole with a sharp point on the end, some sort of improvised spear. I nodded a silent greeting to her, then gestured over my shoulder in the direction they'd been running in. "That way?"

"That way," Komuro confirmed.

I turned and ran. So did they.

Whoever it was was still fighting from the sound of it. Her voice carried through the halls. The three of us approached another turn in the middle of the corridor. Approaching the same turn from the other end of the corridor were two more living people, one student and one staff member. I was familiar with both and on very different terms with both.

My eyes met Busujima's only briefly, but the hostility reignited in them at once. Not even the dead eating the living was going to be an easy fix to that.

None of us stopped to exchange pleasantries. We turned the corner and saw absolute carnage unfolding before us. There were a lot of Them, most dead already, accosting two other students. My mood lifted considerably when I saw Kohta, who was wielding what looked like a nail gun modified with pieces of wood to be a functioning firearm. That's my boy, I thought, grinning.

Then there was Takagi, who was an absolute mess. She was holding a drill inside the head of one of Them, and it was getting its blood all over her. She had her face turned away to avoid the crimson torrent. "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, sounding terrified. "SOMEONE, PLEASE!"

I caught Kohta's eyes, and his face lit up in a smile. "Akarai!" he exclaimed happily. His expression sobered, and he looked over at Takagi. "A little help!"

"I'll take the right side," said Busujima.

"Rei!" said Komuro.

"I'll hold the left!" said the girl he was with—Rei, I presumed. I couldn't call her that, though. I didn't know her at all. She at once took off with a yell and swung her weapon, nailing one of Them through the forehead with it. I was curious as to why she did that. A sharp weapon is usually better aimed at the heart.

Busujima attacked with her bokken.

I didn't sit around and watch. Komuro and I took off charging down the middle, swinging our weapons at Them.

It was bloody work, but it didn't take us long. I handled centre-right; Komuro took centre-left. I swung my table leg at the head of the first one my path led me to. Its head snapped to the side, but this one didn't immediately die. So, I raised it above my head and brought it down hard. The dead thing's head split like a ripe watermelon, but still it stood. I swung again, into the great bloody mess I'd opened up with that last strike, and finally, it went down.

I didn't hesitate before attacking the next one, swinging my weapon again. I caught it in the jaw, which broke with a snap and hung open limply, keeping its mouth open far wider than it would have been able to achieve otherwise. I swung again from the other side, and with a tearing of flesh, its jaw broke from its body completely, leaving it with only upper teeth. It occurred to me once more how little pain They felt, if any at all. I swung again and broke its head open, and it fell limply to the floor.

Within a minute or two, the corridor was free of walking corpses and full of regular ones. I switched my weapon to my left hand and flexed my right, trying in vain to work some of the stiffness out of it as was my habit. It never worked.

Takagi had fallen to her knees at some point during the fight. Her breath kept catching in her throat, and it was obvious that she was going to start sobbing any second.

The girl who was with Komuro ran over to her, as did Miss Shizuka, the school nurse. She … did things for me and just about every guy in the school. A ditzy blonde somewhere in her twenties, you'd be forgiven for being unable to resist looking at her chest since those absolute bazookas on it were larger than her or anyone else's head. She accidentally knocked Kohta flat as she ran past to get to Takagi just because one of them happened to bump him. The tight white shirt she wore left little to the imagination, and her knee-length skirt, which had been ripped on one side (I assumed to make running easier because of all this shit going on) gave me a nice look at the smooth skin of her thigh.

I walked over and offered him a hand. He was a chubby fellow, Kohta Hirano, and the thick-framed glasses didn't exactly help his case when it came to avoiding bullies. That was where I came in. He was my friend. His thick, dark hair hung down to the height of his chin, framing his face. He wore the uniform completely buttoned up, so all you could see were the blazer, trousers, and shoes.

The girl with Komuro asked, "Takagi, are you okay?"

"Miyamoto …?" Takagi said weakly.

Komuro closed the glass door to the third-floor walkway outside.

"You already know the school doctor Marikawa, right?" Busujima asked everyone, then went on without waiting for a confirmation or denial. "And I'm Saeko Busujima from class 3-A."

"I'm Takashi Komuro from class 2-B," said Komuro.

"Miss Busujima, I remember you won the national championship last year," said Miyamoto. I remembered that too. She'd been very good. "I'm Rei Miyamoto. I'm in the spear martial arts club."

"Oh, and I'm … I'm Kohta Hirano from class B, just FYI," said Kohta beside me.

I took this as my cue. "Akarai Sabe, class …" I trailed off. I was trying to do better in my schooling lately, but I still could never be bothered to memorise what my class was called. I just showed up to the classes on my timetable and figured that was enough. So, I gestured vaguely at Busujima and said, "Same class as her."

"Unfortunately," she said coldly.

I shot her a glare. Our enmity was old, starting way back when I first arrived in class on the first day of high school. It was an instantaneous spark of mutual hatred. Well … instantaneous on her part; I didn't start to feel such hostility toward her until after she'd already displayed it toward me. She was maddening. Maddening and beautiful, which made it worse. Long purple hair flowed down her back with bangs forming a widow's peak across her forehead, sharp blue eyes that I'd only ever seen with the fire of hatred in them, and probably the best body I have ever seen on a girl my age. I hated that I thought about it. She was also a little taller than me.

I could see the sudden wariness in everyone then. They could sense the not-so-friendly heat between us. I could see them all thinking it might be a problem. So, I said, "Let's save it until we're not in mortal danger, eh?"

She glared at me but gave a single sharp nod of assent.

Takagi stood up, and she was glaring now. At everyone. "Why are you being all warm and fuzzy?" she asked, her voice shaky. That wasn't exactly how I would have described that last exchange, but … "Why are you being so polite to her, Miyamoto? You flunked last year. You're the same age, she's not your elder."

Miyamoto visibly flinched.

"What are you talking about, Takagi?" Komuro asked.

Then Takagi snapped. "Don't talk to me like I'm stupid! I'm smarter than all of you combined! You should be lucky I'm even in the same school as you!" She drew her hands to her chest and went quiet. "I'm a … I'm a …"

Busujima walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "That's enough."

Takagi went silent for a few seconds, then she glanced to the side and caught sight of herself in a mirror that I'm pretty sure once had the school's trophies in front of it. "Look at me," she said quietly. "All these blood stains … Now Mom will … have to take it to the cleaners …"

That was what finally did it.

Takagi began openly sobbing. She threw herself at Busujima and buried her face in the older girl's chest as the tears flowed, and she could no longer control the sounds of utter despair she had been wanting to make for God only knows how long. Busujima hugged her close and lowered the both of them gently to the floor as Takagi cried and cried and cried.

The rest of us said nothing. Could say nothing. What was there to say?

Fuck today, I thought.

I suppose somebody could have said that.

Third Person POV

Saeko was glaring at Sabe's back the whole time he, Komuro, and Hirano were barricading the faculty room door. She couldn't help herself. She tried, but she couldn't. His presence was going to complicate matters for her. She could never keep her thoughts straight when he was around; she was too busy feeling a surge of anger and self-doubt.

The boys had pushed a couple of desks against the door and stacked some full boxes on top of those.

"What do you think?" Komuro asked.

"I think unless they've got a dead bodybuilder out there, it'll take some time for them to bust through this," said Sabe. Always so damn cocky.

But he was probably right, loathe though she was to admit it. "I think that's enough right now," she said without directly acknowledging his statement. "Let's take a quick break."

Komuro slumped down on the floor against one of the photocopiers. Hirano went to check on Takagi, who was washing her face in the adjoining kitchen. Sabe, who had taken off his blazer while building the barricade to reveal he'd ripped the sleeves off his white shirt to turn it into a crude vest that showed off his muscles, walked to the far side of the room and immediately began rooting around in the teachers' desks. Typical delinquent behaviour.

"Oh yes!" he said after looking through three. "Just what I was hoping for." He walked over to the window on that end of the room and opened it, then he opened the cardboard carton he'd taken out of the desk and produced a cigarette, which he lit with a lighter he'd also found in the desk.

Kohta, who was recovering from the sudden discovery that Takagi wears glasses, walked over to him. "I thought you quit," he said disapprovingly.

"I did," Sabe insisted. "But today has been stressful." He blew white smoke out of the open window. He was a pale sort with smooth skin; he would have been a pretty boy if not for the scar going across his nose, and even that held some appeal to girls. From what Saeko had heard, anyway. His hair went down to his shoulders and was mostly black, with only the slightest bit of blond left at the end. He used to dye it but had stopped earlier in the year. He had dark circles that had perpetually been there since the first year at least, and his dark brown eyes made them almost work for him. "Anyone else want one?"

Nobody did.

"Dr Marikawa," said Komuro, "where's the car key?"

Miss Shizuka was at her desk, sifting through her bag. "It's in my purse somewhere," she insisted.

Saeko felt sceptical. "Are you sure your car's big enough to fit all of us?" she asked.

"Well, now that I think about it …"

"Could you drive the bus?" Sabe asked annoyingly. Saeko had been about to ask the same thing. "It's still here."

"That's fine, but where are we going?" Miss Shizuka asked.

Komuro is the one who answered. "We're going to make sure that our families—" Over by the window, Sabe stiffened up slightly. "—are okay. We'll start with the family that lives closest from here. If you're worried about your family, we'll bring them with us. After that, we'll look for a safe place and—"

"What's wrong?" Takagi asked.

Miyamoto was staring at the ceiling-mounted television with an expression of absolute horror on her face. "What is this …?"

Saeko looked, and what she saw made her stomach drop. Quickly, she reached for the remote and unmuted the programme.

"What's wrong, Rei?" Komuro asked.

"—government has begun to consider emergency measures against the outbreaks that have been occurring in locations across the city," the news anchor said. Everyone gathered to watch. Sabe even had the good manners to put out his cigarette first. "However, all the political parties have been expressing their—"

"Outbreaks?!" Komuro exclaimed. "What do they mean, 'outbreaks?'"

The news went on. "It's been feared more than ten thousand have been victimised in Saitama Area thus far." There was a cadaver being wheeled past behind her. "The governor has already called—" A loud blam rang out, unmistakably a gunshot, and the camera operator pointed to where the body was being wheeled to. Armed police officers were shooting body bags that had begun sitting up. "—already declared the state of emergency and requested the emergency disaster relief—" More body bags were shot. "It's a gunshot. The police are finally using firearms. From what I can see, they're—" The camera shook and fell over. "No! No! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah—!"

The feed was cut while the reporter died.

Nobody said a word.

So, a few things:

1) This is a rewrite of my first ever fanfic, Zombies and High School Kids. I've left that thing sitting for ages and I feel like I can do better, so here's me doing better.

2) We're operating on The Walking Dead logic here, meaning bites aren't required to make a zombie. Dying without sustaining major brain damage will still result in getting up and eating people afterwards.

3) Also like The Walking Dead, there is no zombie media in this world (just pretend that the word "undead" was used instead of "zombie" in The Cabin in the Woods for the sake of that reference I made XD). I've done this to make the use of "Them" make more sense to me since that was stupid in canon. Something like Shaun of the Dead gets away with the whole "don't use the Z-word because this is real life" because that's a comedy, and the stupid logic works for the tone. This is meant to be more serious.

And that's everything. I'll see you guys in the next one.