Zombie High (15 page)

As you pass the largest spot, you hear something or
someone breathing nearby. You quickly turn around to
see if one of the monstrous walking dead are trying to
sneak up behind you but find nothing there. The sound
on the other hand, seems to be coming from close by.
Holding really still, you try to identify its source and realize
that it’s coming from the locker you just passed. In a quiet
whisper you say, “Hello.”

Stepping over to the locker cautiously, you whisper,
“Hello, is there someone in there?”
There is no reply, but you notice the breathing in
the locker also stops. Whoever it is in there must be
trying to hide.
Trying once again, you say, “Whoever’s in there, it’s
okay. I’m not infected. I’m not a zombie. Why don’t you
come out, and we can go get some food?”
The breathing inside the locker remains quiet, but
after a moment, you hear what sounds like the person’s
stomach growling. Whoever it is must be hungry. Not
knowing what else to say, you wait a moment or two
longer before you hear the telltale exhalation of someone
who’s been holding their breath.
Addressing the locker once more, you say, “Look,
this is stupid, I’m out here talking to a door. Come out,
and we can go to Mr. Ray’s room together. There are a
bunch of people in there, and Mr. Ray is working on
making some weapons for us.” Then gesturing to the cart,
as if the person inside can see you through the metal
locker door, you say, “He built this cart here which
electrocutes any zombies that touch it. The guy’s got a
bunch of other stuff, too.”
The sound of the person’s breathing continues, but
he/she doesn’t give you any other response. Waiting for
another couple of seconds you try to decide if you should
just open the door yourself or move on.

Fed up with the situation and nervous about
staying in one spot for too long, you decide to open the
locker and see who it is. Reaching for the locker handle,
you have no idea who it could be, but you feel pretty
confident that a zombie wouldn’t try to hold its breath in
order to avoid detection.

In the next moment two things happen almost
simultaneously. You lift the handle on the locker allowing
the door to swing open, and you find a sophomore girl
inside who looks both terrified and angry. Somewhere in
the back of your head, the name Katlyn pops up, and you
prepare to say something to her, but before you can find
the words, she launches herself at you and shoves you out
of the way. Clearly, she didn’t want to be found, and she’s
both scared that zombies might be around as well as
upset that her hiding place has been compromised.

As she explodes out, shoving you with her arms as
well as the force of her body, you manage to fall
backwards right into the metal rod on the cart. Each
battery carries six cells inside it, each of which holds about
2.1 volts making each of the six batteries worth roughly
12.6 volts of electricity. Chained together the way they
are, you have 75.6 volts running through your body. The
voltage, however, isn’t the only part that you need to be
worried about, it’s the current which is measured in amps.
Whereas a low amount of current can prove to be fatal to
people, Mr. Ray’s device is able to push out over a
hundred amps, and in the last agonizing second of your
life, you seem to feel each and every one of them as they
race through your body burning you up from the inside.

As your body slumps to the floor, and your spirit
floats out of your body, you see the girl stop as she looks
back. You know that she knows you’re down, and you
think that maybe she’ll get you some help so you can
return to your body. She seems to take a long moment to
decide, and all the while you continue to float up, heading
further and further from your body. Finally, she returns to
where your body lies, and your hopes soar as you think
she is going to perform CPR. Unfortunately, that’s when
she grabs the cart and repositions it in front of the lockers
as a wall of defense before climbing back in to her hiding
spot and closing the door.

Receiving no response from whoever is in the
locker, you figure that they must not want to be bothered,
and you don’t want to be out here when the zombies
come. Grabbing your cart, you swing it around and head
for the back hall. When you reach the intersection, you
carefully look around the corner again, but you only find
the familiar lit up logo of the drink machine and the glass
display window of the snack machine at the other end of
the hall. Satisfied, you turn your cart and head down.

When you get there, you notice that the machines,
while on, have both been pulled away from the wall a bit.
Stepping around, you find Jake sitting on the floor drawing
in his notebook. Noticing that the light has changed or
hearing you, he looks up and says, “Oh, hey. How’s it
going?”

Tilting your head, you see that the drawing he’s
doing is of a horrific scene depicting people eating one
another, and you know that it looks too real to have
simply come from his imagination. Asking the important
question first, you answer his question with one of your
own, “Have you been bitten?”

Shaking his head vigorously, Jake says, “No. I’ve
been hiding back here for a while. There were a bunch
that passed by a bit ago, but none of them saw me.”

Judging that he was speaking to you and seemed
not to have any injuries, you give him the benefit of the
doubt and say, “I’m here to gather some supplies, and
then I’m headed back to Mr. Ray’s room where a bunch of
us are holding out for the time being. You’re welcome to
join me if you want.”

Jake thinks about it for a second, and then says, “It
sounds good, but how do you know you can make it back
safely?”

“Mr. Ray built a few weapons. He let me use this
one to get out here,” you answer, pointing around to the
front of the machine to where the cart stands.

Curious, Jake stands up and pokes his head around
the side of the machine so that he can see this
contraption. Looking back to you, clearly unimpressed, he
asks, “What’s it do?”

Pointing at the different components as you speak,
you say, “Well, he rigged up these batteries here so that
they send an electrical current out through this metal
piece. I don’t know exactly how much juice it’s putting
out, but so far, whatever it touches drops dead. Real
dead, not this walking around moaning and trying to eat
people dead.”

“Sounds good,” begins Jake, “but what if they come
up from behind you.”
“I’ll spin the cart around then,” you answer, before
adding, “or I’ll go faster. The zombies really can’t go too
fast.”
Nodding, Jake says, “It might work. I just don’t
know. Things are pretty safe here, and it’s a risk to head
to Mr. Ray’s room from here.”
“Well, the offer is open if you want. I know he’s
got some other cool stuff, and I’m sure he’s building more
as we speak.”
“More carts? How many batteries does he have?”
“No, not more carts. He’s got all kinds of stuff in
his lab. He’s like a mad scientist in there who has just
been given free rein to build whatever he wants in order
to save lives.”
“Like what?” asks Jake, even more curious now.
“Well, I know he’s got a ton of chemicals, and he’s
been mixing up a couple of cocktails that will melt through
just about anything. Then he’s got these brains, I guess
they’re animal brains, but you’re supposed to throw
them, and the zombies will go after them like a fat kid on
a cupcake. He even has the advanced students in the
room helping him come up with more stuff. They pretty
much already figured out how this thing started, so I’m
sure it will only be a matter of time before he finds a
cure.”
Eyes wide, Jake says, “All right, that sounds pretty
good. So what do you need out here?”
Looking to the machines, you try to crack a joke
and say, “Brain food.”
Either not finding it funny, or simply too deep in
thought about the stuff Mr. Ray might have, Jake says,
“Huh?”
Pointing to the machines once again, you say,
“Food and drinks. If we’re going to hold out until we’re
rescued, we’re going to need some.”
“Oh yeah, that makes sense.” Then looking at the
machine, he asks, “Did you bring enough money for
everything?”
Realizing you only have the five quarters in your
pocket which your mother left on the table for you this
morning, you say, “No, damn it. I should have thought of
that.”
Slapping you on the shoulder, Jake says, “No
problem. I’ll just tip the machine over, and we can loot
what we want out of it when the glass breaks.”
Thinking it over as your morals tell you that this
would be wrong, you realize in the midst of the
apocalypse grabbing some food to feed others isn’t really
what the whole ‘
Thou shalt not steal’
commandment was
written for. That’s when you look at the other machine
and say, “I don’t suppose you have an equally good idea
for the drinks? I don’t think this tipping this thing over is
going to help much.”
Reaching down to the bottom of the machine, Jake
shoves his hand in the back of it behind a metal plate and
then says, “Drinks are on me,” before he pulls something
and out pops a Brisk Ice Tea.
“How did you do that?”
Standing up with a bottled water in his hands, Jake
says, “I’ve been behind that machine for over an hour.
You didn’t think I’ve just been hiding back there drawing
pictures the whole time, did you?”
Taking control of the situation once again, you say,
“Excellent, well, let’s fill up the cart. Drinks first, because
they’re heavy, and then we’ll load up on the chips, candy,
and other stuff.”
Leaning back down, Jake says, “Cool, what should I
start with?”
“Water, then the tea, and then anything else we
can fit.”
A few minutes later, the two of you have the first
machine emptied, and Jake says, “That’s it.”
“Okay, now for the snacks.”
“All right, just give me a second,” says Jake as he
squeezes further back behind the machines. Once in
position, Jake climbs up the back of the snack machine
and then uses his feet to push off the wall and tip the
thing over. It only takes a few seconds before it’s on its
way, and in the last second before it hits, you realize your
mistake. It’s true you needed the snacks, and you knew
you would have to break the glass to get them, but the
sound of the machine hitting the ground is almost
deafening, and it echoes down the empty hall behind you.
Looking up, you meet Jake’s eyes, and say, “That
was a lot louder than I thought it would be. Come on,
we’re going to have to be quick about this.”
Leaping over, Jake helps you tip the machine on its
side, and the two of you begin ripping out the sugary and
salty snacks by the handful, not even looking at what they
are as you go. After about twenty seconds, you hear the
distinctive sound of the first zombie moan, and say,
“Okay, that’s it. Let’s go.”
Looking at the machine, Jake asks, “There’s still
more. Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s not worth it,” you say. “Come on.”
Together, the two of you get behind the cart and
begin to push. It’s a bit harder now with the added
weight of the food and drinks, but with Jake’s help, it gets
rolling quickly enough. The two of you make it down the
hall and to the turn before you see your first obstacle.
Apparently, the snack machine noise did a good job of
attracting company because you have three zombies
staggering your way.
Lining up the cart with the first of them, you say,
“Let’s take them down one at a time.”
“Okay,” says Jake, and then when you have the cart
in position and are ready to advance to meet the first of
them, he announces, “Ramming speed,” and takes off,
pushing the cart in front of him.
Before you have a chance to call him back, Jake has
impaled the zombie on the metal rod. You want to tell
him that there was no need to do that, but correcting him
now is pointless. Instead, you watch as the zombie’s body
convulses up against the cart, and smoke begins to come
out of him. You try to keep an eye on the other two,
waiting for this one to fall down like the last zombie did,
but it continues to stand there. That’s when you realize
that the creature can’t fall. It’s hooked on the metal rod
and needs to have it pulled out before it can drop. The
only problem is, you know you can’t touch the zombie or
else you’ll be electrocuted, too.
As the seconds tick by and the other two zombies
get closer, Jake asks, “What do we do?” but his question
goes without answer as the impaled zombie slumps
sideways spilling some of the food from the top of the cart
before his legs give out, and he slides off the end of the
rod.
Turning the cart towards the next closest zombie,
you begin to walk it forward while Jake bends down to
start collecting the spilled food. When the metal rod
makes contact, however, nothing happens. You back up
the cart and then try again, but the metal rod just pokes it
in the belly for a second time and rather than hearing a
Pillsbury Dough Boy’s laugh, you get a disgusting grunt
and moan from the monster.
Keeping the cart between you and the creature,
you call over to Jake and say, “Something’s not right. I
think it’s broken.”
“What?” asks Jake whose arms are already full of
snacks. “I thought you said this thing would get us back to
Mr. Ray’s.”
“It was supposed to, but then again, we were just
supposed to make contact with the zombies and let them
drop, not impale them. It’s possible that thing stayed on
the rod too long, and it drained the juice.”
Defensively, Jake says, “First of all, you never said
not to do that, and second, maybe the physics class used
up more juice than he thought, and he sent you out here
with a bunch of half dead batteries.”
“Well, it’s a little late to go assigning blame. We
got to get out of here.”
Shaking his head, Jake says, “I knew I should have
just stayed put behind those machines.”
“Too late,” you say as you use the cart to keep
something between you and the hungry zombie.
Standing up, Jake begins to head up the hall
towards Mr. Ray’s room, spilling snacks from his overly full
arms as he goes. When he has a comfortable enough
lead, you push the cart hard into the closest zombie
causing it to fall backwards and then spin the cart and
send it crashing into the other before taking off in a sprint.
You’re huffing and puffing as you round the corner,
planning on forcibly bowling over any zombies that get in
your way as you come around the corner when your foot
lands on something soft and slippery. For just a moment
you think you’ll be all right, that you might be able to ride
out the slide your foot is doing beneath you, but then you
lose your center of balance and go toppling over into the
lockers.
Blood immediately springs up from where your leg
got caught on the vents at the bottom of the lockers, and
as you try to stand, you feel something click in your knee a
split second before pain surges up through your leg
causing you to scream out.
From up the hall, Jake looks back and says, “I’ll get
help,” while he continues to run and more snacks spill
from his arms.
That’s when you realize what happened. Looking
over, you spot the shiny familiar tin foil wrapper sitting
not more than a few feet away up against the wall and
recognize the half smushed cherry Pop Tart for what it is.
Taking a quick second to look back the way you came, you
know that there’s no chance his help will arrive in time as
both of the zombies are now almost upon you. So instead
of offering up any prayers or wishes for your loved ones,
you use your last breaths to curse whatever satanic
demon it was who unleashed those disgusting cherry
flavored things on the world.