Lila came flying out first, Ethan Holt right behind her.
“Mr. Rowen!” she screamed. “She—Coach just?—”
She didn’t finish.
I cracked open the door and saw Coach Daniels. Her whistle bounced against her chest, streaked red. Blood smeared her mouth, and her jaw worked as if she were chewing. Her eyes were fully clouded—milky and unfocused.
She barreled straight into a sophomore girl who hadn’t moved fast enough.
The girl went down hard.
Coach Daniels dropped with her and bit into her shoulder with a sound that ripped through the gym.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
This was completely insane.
Keeping her in sight, I opened the doors.
Students screamed and scattered through the large space, some frozen in shock, others crashing into the bleachers and each other in blind panic.
“Run!” I shouted. “Everyone out—now!”
A couple of students headed in my direction, running past me.
Coach Daniels rose from her first victim and lunged again. A boy near the bleachers doubled over, clawing at his stomach. Another student dropped to her knees, retching violently. A third staggered into the wall, slamming his head hard enough that I heard the crack—then let out a thin, broken chuckle that rattled from his throat. Too wet, too breathless—like he was trying to laugh without remembering how.
“My God,” Ethan whispered, still standing behind me.
Another boy snapped his head up and drove his teeth into the neck
of the girl closest to him, who was trying to climb the bleachers.
Everything had fractured.
“MOVE!” I screamed.
Students surged for the exits, bodies colliding, screams overlapping. One girl tripped and was gone before anyone could reach her. Another turned mid-run, eyes already clouding, and tackled someone twice her size with terrifying force.
This wasn’t spreading slowly. It was like a wildfire out of control.
“Mr. Rowen!” Lila cried.
I grabbed her wrist and shoved her forward, Ethan on her other side, three more students clinging close behind us like ducklings who knew they were prey.
“Stay together!” I yelled. “Don’t touch anyone bleeding!”
A cheerleader slammed into the lockers behind us, convulsing. A boy tried to help her, and she bit him in the face.
We ran.
I raced through the science wing and skidded to a stop at the teachers’ lounge. The door was thick, solid wood, with a narrow window reinforced with wire glass.
“In!” I ordered.
They rushed inside. I slammed the door and turned the lock as something heavy struck it from the hallway.
The sound echoed.
