“Come here!” Sarah motioned for the teacher. Walking over, Sarah leaned in close and asked, “Is there any way to get in touch with the other parents quickly, all of them?”
The teacher looked confused, “I’m sorry, do you work here? Did you see who set the alarm off?”
“I did! Now tell me, is there a way to get in touch with them?” She gripped the teacher by the arm, trying to emphasise the urgency of the request with her eyes.
“Get your hands off me!” the teacher blurted, pulling her arm free. “I’m calling security!”
A scream, that peaked higher than the raucous alarm, caused them both to spin their heads in unison down the corridor. Sarah tried to see what was occurring, looking carefully, trying to catch a glimpse between the approaching heads. Whatever it was caused a sudden rush of panicked youngsters, who threatened to bowl the adults over in their desperation to get out.
“Can you contact them or not?” Sarah shouted in the teacher’s face, specks of spittle landing on her cheek. “They need to get home, NOW! Things are killing them!”
The teacher looked at her uncertainly, then at the running students, then back to Sarah and replied, “I can get our receptionist Angela to text alert them, It will go out to all parents who have mobile phones.”
“Angela… isn’t there. Do it yourself. Now,” Sarah thrust her towards the entrance, hoping she would not freeze at the sight of the blood on the walls and floor.
Turning, Sarah hugged the wall to the left and tried to work against the tide of bodies that threatened to carry her back towards the reception area. At last, the pressure eased and the shoulders that had been striking her abated, allowing her to get a real picture of what was going on. A young girl was laid on the floor thrashing around, while, what Sarah could only liken to a scarecrow, bit at her outstretched arms. The thing was desiccated, dry and shrivelled to a thinness that conjured images of concentration camp survivors as they clung weakly to the fences, watching as the Allies liberated them from their torment. Its teeth found purchase around three outstretched fingers, which disappeared in an instant. Thin stumps sprayed blood all over the young lady’s white school shirt. The sight of this poor girl triggered something deep within Sarah, a mother’s protective instinct perhaps. Whatever it was, it caused her to bare her teeth, snarl and leap onto the back of the scarecrow figure. With a cry, she grasped it under the arms, her skin crawling with the feel of the crumbing flesh, and tore it free from the girl. Not quite ready for how light it would be, she pivoted and flung the creature away, stumbling and falling on her hip. Scrambling to her knees, she went to check the girl who was moaning and cradling her torn hand.
“Sweetheart, you have to get up for me, here let me help.” Sarah reached under the girl’s armpit and began to support her as she rose to her feet, careful not to put any pressure on the damaged arm. Looking around, Sarah saw that the scarecrow was nearly back on its feet. It’s withered, prune like orbs that were once eyes, fixed on them.
“Come on now honey, that’s it, this way,” she coaxed the girl, aware of the shuffling footsteps that heralded the return of the brittle horror.
Limping slightly from the numbness that had settled in her hip, Sarah led the girl down the corridor. The exodus of school children had all but ceased. The last few stragglers were turning the corner from the staircase, rushing out through the doors, ushered by a couple of adults who stood directing the flow. Upon seeing the girl and the blood, a male teacher ran forward to assist, until he caught sight of what was chasing them.
“Get her out!” Sarah ordered, commanding the attention of the man.
He shook his head a little, the terror stricken look clearing from his eyes as he took the girl’s weight. Turning, Sarah could have cried with relief as Kurt turned the corner at the rear of the hallway where the girl had been assaulted. Sam stood to his left, wielding a broken steel table leg. Kurt still had the bloodied hammer, and seeing the thing that separated them, he acted swiftly. He placed a protective arm in front of Sam, stopping him. He then rushed forward and placed a hand on the crumbling shoulder, swinging it around in a pirouette. Face to grinning macabre skull, Kurt crushed the head inwards at the temple with a single sideswipe of the hammer. The zombie hit the wall and slid to the floor, dead. Running forward, Sarah flung herself at her son and husband.
“Nice of you to join me,” she remarked, the words slightly muffled by her sons school blazer.
Following cautiously around the corner were the rest of the math class. Another boy helped a girl with their elderly teacher. Braiden! Fucking Braiden Sullivan! Sarah thought, as her eyes narrowed with anger at the sight of the horrible little bastard who had been tormenting her son for the past six months. Braiden noticed the hateful glare and reddened before looking away, pretending he was concentrating on the task of getting his teacher out of the building.
Sam had noticed the hostility, and whispered, “Mum, he is alright. He helped me earlier, probably saved all of our lives.”
She looked into Sam’s eyes; her anger subsided a little, to be replaced by a begrudging gratitude. The pain that Braiden had caused would be long in the forgiving, even in the present circumstances.
After the last of the class had passed, the family followed behind. Reaching the reception, Sarah was overjoyed to see the earlier teacher rising from the desk, a look of triumph on her face.
“I did it. The message has been sent that parents must collect their children after a fire incident that has closed the school. No injuries, but they must be collected immediately. Is that ok?”
Sarah and Kurt looked at each other, “What else can we do?” she asked. Kurt shook his head, aware that there wasn’t anything and feeling useless. They headed out into the drab light of the cold afternoon, a family reunited.
Feeling the bite of the cold breeze, Kurt was aware that Sarah was only wearing a pair of jeans and a thin vest top. Her shoulder length brown hair blew up and into her face, causing her to tuck it behind her ears. The wind caught it again, and this time she just ignored it. Kurt started to take his jumper off and give to her. Looking down, however, he noticed the blood spatter and the sleeve which was drenched, causing it to cling to his skin. Dropping the hammer, he took the soiled clothing off, wiped his hands, and then threw it into a metal litter bin. Kurt picked the hammer back up, its handle was wet and slimy, slipping in his grip. Reaching in to the bin, he took the clean sleeve and quickly wiped the handle down. He was left in a blue t-shirt which, fortunately, had escaped most of the blood. They would both have to be cold for a while.
Sarah was watching him. She was still helping the young girl who was moaning, her hand held against her chest and tucked inside her school jacket. A brief smile passed between them and they moved off towards the milling students, which now numbered over two hundred. The injured child’s teacher, a man in his forties with dark black hair slicked back in an old style, caught sight of her and came hurrying over.
“What happened? I turned around when we had reached the fire assembly area and she had gone,” he asked. He placed a hand on his student’s shoulder then crouched a little, trying to meet her gaze. Her vacant eyes didn’t seem to register the question. She seemed to be withdrawing into herself, the moaning from the pain had ceased and she just stared at the tarmac. The wind caught her blazer, revealing the missing fingers on her hand and the man gasped his shock.
“Here, let me help. Our nurse is just over there helping someone. I’ll get her to bandage it and phone an ambulance,” he said as he helped take some of the weight of the girl, who was barely able to summon the energy to walk to the makeshift nurse’s station. Sarah shared the weight, and between them, the girl was supported the final distance. Kurt and Sam followed the trio, shooting looks back at the entrance doors but seeing no movement as yet. Had they killed them all, or were some still haunting the empty corridors, seeking fresh prey?
The staff had begun arguing in hushed tones, animated arm movements and heads shaking, indicated that there was a disagreement of some sort. The students were standing around, unsure of what to do. They were scared and worried by their hurt friends who the nurse was tending to. There were three sitting on a bench, plus the girl who was being led over by Sarah and the male teacher.
“Don’t be so ridiculous!” came a sharp retort to a question that Kurt hadn’t been close enough to hear. “You expect me to believe there are walking corpses stalking our school?”
“I saw them as we were leaving, they were there I tell you. How do you explain the bite marks on them?” A young female teacher motioned her arm at the nurse and her patients.
“They must have just cut themselves in the rush to get out, a simple explanation.” The woman nodded stiffly to herself, satisfied that it could be the only explanation.
“But…” the other teacher tried to interject.
“I will have no more said on the matter. You are mistaken,” she instructed. She was obviously someone with authority in the school, and she used it. Kurt took an instant dislike to her arrogant and dismissive manner and approached.
“Who on earth are you?” she asked in a superior tone, as the other teachers looked him over.
Kurt raised the hammer and thrust it towards her face. She flinched as if he was about to hit her, but when the blow didn’t come, she glared at the intruder who had interrupted her belittling of the younger staff member.
“This is blood from the things that have just attacked your school!” He pointed to the hammer head, and she flinched again, this time in disgust. “They are everywhere and growing in number. You haven’t got a clue what is going on here.”
“How dare you,” she blustered, going red in the face with barely disguised anger. “I’ll have you know I am the vice principal of this school and I am in charge.”
“THEN DO YOUR BLOODY JOB!” Kurt screamed into her face, a mixture of frustration and fear.
She took a pace backwards and blanched, looking at her colleagues, mouth agape, looking for support. They were unable to disguise their smirks at the strangers’ rough treatment of her, which served to bring the anger back. Kurt stepped into the space she had vacated and prepared to address the group, cutting her off completely.
“Now you listen here!” She stepped forward to resume the argument, not prepared to take this from a common upstart. Kurt ignored her and addressed the teachers, pointing at the lady who had sent the text alert.
“You have contacted the parents who should be getting here soon. Until then, you need to keep the students together and calm. The fence will keep them safe, but the entrance and exit need to be blocked up. Who has a vehicle over there?” He indicated the staff car park.
The teachers looked at each other, rifling through pockets. Several explained that their keys were still in the classroom with the rest of their belongings, but three produced a keychain. Kurt thought quickly and came up with a plan. Hopefully it would work.
“You two get your cars and park side by side in the entrance gateway. Back into the gap so you are facing this way, then leave them there. Make sure there is no space to get by, even if it means you have to damage the vehicles.” They looked unsure at the request.
“Did you see those things in the corridor?” he asked, the fearful look on one face answering the question. The other saw the look and said nothing. “Do you want to stop any more of those things getting in here?”
“Let’s go.” They needed no more prompting.
Kurt looked at the third teacher, the young lady who had been arguing with the vice principal, who was trying to force her way into the conversation.
“I will call the police to arrest you if you don’t leave now.” She puffed up her chest, trying to regain some of the authority she used to bully people. Straightening glasses that did not need to be straightened, she felt a smug superiority, thinking she had the upper hand once more.
Leaning in, close enough to smell the sour coffee breath of the horrible little woman, Kurt responded to the challenge, “Go on then, go back in there and phone them. I will wait right here. And if you see things that can’t possibly exist, just tell yourself that they are ridiculous and they probably won’t EAT YOUR FUCKING HEART!” The last, shouted mere inches from her face, his patience exhausted after the dreadful scenes he had borne witness to. That did the trick, she scurried off towards the main reception doors. Kurt thought for a moment about calling her back, but the lives of the hundreds of children took precedence over one holier than thou jobsworth.
“Now, if you could take your car and park it lengthways across the exit, two cars would have been better, but it will have to do for now. I will use my car to block it with you shortly,” Kurt advised and the young teacher moved off towards her car.
Kurt was reassured to see the first vehicles begin the awkward manoeuvre of blocking the brick gateway, the drivers concentrating on the task. A grinding noise of metal on metal signalled they were packed in tight, and the teachers climbed out as best they could. The third vehicle started in the carpark, the noise of the diesel engine turning over, reaching Kurt. A thud, followed by a yell from behind, caught his attention and he swung round. The girl that Sarah and the man had helped collapsed from the bench and lay face down on the tarmac. The nurse went to her immediately to check if she had fainted, gently slapping her cheek as she tried to bring her round. Unsuccessful, she then laid her own cheek to the open mouth of the girl, listening for breath. A look of alarm came over her, and she put two fingers onto the wrist of the undamaged hand, checking for a pulse. There was nothing. Sarah was stood over them wanting to help, but knowing that the professional was doing everything she could. Kurt came at a run, drew alongside her, and saw she was feeling the same helplessness that he had suffered repeatedly today.
The nurse tilted the girl’s head back to open the airway, pressed her mouth to the lips, and blew two puffs into her lungs. Clasping her hands and laying them on the child’s chest, she then began compressions.
“One, two, three, four, five…,” she whispered quietly, all the way to fifteen, pumping expertly on the young pupil’s ribcage. Leaning down, she gave two more breaths. Instead of coming up to compress the chest, she kept her mouth on the girl, almost as if she was giving a lovers kiss. Her body started to vibrate and her hands started clawing where their mouths were linked. Sarah saw the open eyes of the girl, a fraction of a second before the nurse’s body sprung bolt upright as if electrified. Her lips had been torn off completely, the mouth now a dreadful rictus of bloodied teeth and gristle. The students and teachers alike began screaming. Sarah had her hand to her mouth, a look of pure terror on her face. Kurt noticed that the heads of the other injured children had all either fallen onto their chests or leaned backwards at a painful angle from their neck. The girl on the ground was chewing the red contents in her mouth as she began rising. The bodies of the children on the bench began moving, their eyes opening. They looked around and stood up, hungry with inhuman needs. The nurse was clutching at her torn face, the pain so great she didn’t have time to escape before they all fell on her, tearing and biting.
All hell broke loose. Many of the school children and teachers had started running or climbing the fence to get away. Some climbed the two cars blocking the entrance and slid over the wet metalwork. More had begun running towards the exit where the teacher had almost sealed the gate, unaware of the events happening behind her.
“Wait! WAIT!” Kurt yelled, but it was no good. Panic had seized the crowd and they were fleeing. Kurt desperately tried to grab people as they rushed past, trying to calm them, only to have them pull free or attack him when they couldn’t break free of his grip. One young boy, no older than twelve, swung a small fist which connected with his cheek, bringing a sting of pain. Kurt let go, and the child ran away, never looking back. Kurt stood there with mayhem all around, bewildered and lost. He felt a soft tug at his arm and he turned and looked at Sarah, tears running freely once again.
“Come on honey, we have to go now,” Sarah said soothingly, leading him towards their vehicles, away from the wet, ripping sounds. Like a toddler, he followed, momentarily closed to the outside world. Sam took his other arm and together they walked Kurt to his van, people still bolting past them.
The teacher, who had been trying to park over the entrance, had moved her car and was standing by the side of it looking around, unsure of what to do. Sarah stood Kurt at the side of his van, by the driver’s door.
“Just go, get out of here!” she shouted at her, as movement at the school doors then caught her attention.
Two torn children had emerged, skin and flesh in tatters, closely followed by the vice principal, who had run into them at her office further inside the building. Her glasses had been lost, as well as most of the flesh of her breasts, neck, and upper arms. They saw two students go running by and their fellow, undead pupils gave slow chase. The kids skirted the far corner of the school building in a flail of arms and legs, and were gone. The vice principal had not followed and instead, begun to close the gap between the family, her arms raised, gurgled moans escaping her ripped throat.
Sarah looked at her husband, took his face in her hands, “Sweetie, we have to go now, I need you to get in the van and follow us home.”
Eyes still glazed, Kurt didn’t seem to register her request. No sign that he had heard or was going to act on it presented itself, and Sarah was all too aware of how soon the loathsome creature would be on them. Feeling guilty, she drew her hand back and delivered a stinging slap to his cheek, causing his head to rock. Life flashed back into his eyes and Kurt bared his teeth in anger at the pain, ready to strike out. Seeing his wife and son looking terrified galvanised him, he saw the riven vice principal through the side window as she reached the van. She was only eight feet away now. Kurt reached down for the hammer in his belt. It was missing! Where had it gone, he looked frantically on the ground. She was six feet away and still, no hammer. Sam passed him the table leg. Now five feet away, turning to kill the abomination, Kurt was amazed to see an elderly woman wielding his hammer. She took a pace forward and crushed the skull in, the body then dropping at their feet. Braiden stepped into view and swung another blow, ensuring the job was done. The mulch that was left of the head caused Sarah to gag, and she leant on the van for support trying to breathe through it, the bloody injuries she had witnessed all coming to a head.
It was Kurt’s turn to help Sarah now. He led her to the Kia and unlocked it, helped her get in while her legs still felt like jelly. Braiden and Sam jumped in the back and the elderly woman introduced herself.
“I am Mrs Blume, I teach Sam maths. I remember you from parents evening,” she informed him.
His mind clicked, “Of course!” he said, shaking her hand. “Thank you for the help back there, you have a mean swing.”
She chuckled, “Even one of advanced years may still have a trick up her sleeve.”
“Do you live locally?” Kurt asked, seeing the killers of the school nurse over her shoulder as they came toward them.
“Oh heavens no, I live in Portsmouth. I catch the train down every day.”