None of the students had slept even though I’d encouraged them to. They’d suggested a rotating shift to monitor the barricaded door. I’d agreed, if only to make them feel better, even though I had no intention of sleeping.
Leaving our security to teenagers wasn’t something I was prepared to do.
Although I suppose that made me a hypocrite because I didn’t mind choking one and almost cumming in my pants.
The sounds from the hallway all night were the stuff of nightmares. Growls and dragging, the occasional sound of animals fighting—made even more terrifying because there were no animals in the school.
My phone buzzed once in my hand.
On the way.
The signal dropped again before I could reply.
I didn’t know if it meant he was already close—or if the message had clawed its way through minutes ago.
The five students with me were spread out across the room. Ethan sat on the floor with his knees pulled up, Lila sitting beside him with her head on his shoulder. Her face was dry now, eyes hollow, grief packed so tight inside her it had nowhere to go.
Sometime during the night, the noise had changed.
The shrieks and pounding had thinned, replaced by long stretches of nothing—then sudden movement. Footsteps, strange clicks, and the sound of sniffling at the lounge door like an animal on a scent. But even that had stopped a little while ago.
I kept thinking about the fifty students in the gym—football players, cheerleaders, and at least one of my colleagues. Was anyone else able to escape besides us?
I stood slowly and pressed my ear to the door.
Nothing.
I slowly removed the paper I’d taped over the window in the door. Leaning closer, I was careful not to let my shadow cross it. The glass was thick and threaded with wire, but it still showed just enough of the hallway beyond to make my stomach knot. Movement flickered past once, too fast to track, then disappeared.
“What are you doing, Mr. Rowen?” Ethan stood and gazed over my shoulder.
“Just checking things out,” I reassured him. “I stopped hearing the noises about an hour ago.”
“We need to get out of here.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m worried about my parents. Mom was sick when I left yesterday with the flu.”
I winced.
Based on what I’d observed, his mom was likely already one of the infected, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that.
Lane, another football player, spoke up, “I need to get home too. My twin sisters are there with my dad, who’s sick. My mom is working out of town.”
This sickness everyone had wasn’t the flu. That was more than clear at this point. It was something else.
“Let me check things out. Maybe, they’ve all left the building.” I didn’t really believe it.
They helped me remove the barrier, and I was halfway through the doorway when Ethan hissed, “Mr. Rowen?—”
I froze.
At the far end of the hall, something shifted. A figure stepped into view, then stopped. Its head tilted, as if listening.
“Back,” I whispered. “Slowly…step…back.”
We moved as one, slow and silent, easing into the lounge and shutting the door. A face appeared in the small window—cheek torn open, eyes cloudy, and its mouth working soundlessly.
It raised its hand and struck the window.
“Fuck,” Ethan gasped in horror. “That’s Aaron.”
