Dying BreedMature

As I made my way to Physics, with Duncan in tow, I considered what the red "substance" could be. Juice? Too deep a tone. Gum? Too gloopy. Blood? DON'T BE BLOODY RIDICULOUS. Not a chance. I took a seat and begun writing the notes down from the board. As the unidentified liquid dripped in a menacing puddle below me, I could hear mumbled ruffling in the cupboard. Sounded like someone was in there. I decided to ignore it and, in the words of many WW2 soldiers, kept calm and carried on.

After an almost boring period (enlightened by Sam almost burning the skin off his palm with some heater rod thing), another friend of mine, Rob, noticed my reddened shoe and instantly looked concerned. "Alex, is that blood on your shoe?" He asked, unsure of the mysterious liquid. In response, I gave the exact same answer I had given to myself to him, "Don't be bloody ridiculous." He sheepishly moved back into the crowd and I resumed chat with Duncan. The bell rang and we left, still confused.

I was starting to be irritated by the fact that I was leaving red footprints, when I noticed a particularly odd-looking fellow. He looked ravaged, and a blank expression had captured his face. He shuffled around, mindlessly moaning. I scratched my head and came to the conclusion that this person was a junkie on a bad trip. I giggled lightly and continued on, only to notice said chap hauling an unwilling companion into a secluded spot. Creepy paedophile junkie, a dying breed indeed. Then screams were heard and blood was flying, and suddenly my cheerfulness turned to fear as, where one had entered a mindless semi-mortal, voila, now there were two. Panic spread quickly and people ran for safety.

"Just fucking run, now!" I grabbed Duncan and sprinted for an exit. I tried and tried, but alas, all the doors were locked. Then I spotted a masked figure. He gave us the up-yours salute and thundered off through a door and barred us out. We gradually realised... we were trapped in a buliding with zombies. I gulped and turned to face my demise, inevitable. We made a beeline for our little "zombie hidey-hole" and, with spare wood and metal salvaged from Technical, begun preparng for the apocalypse.

Duncan turned to me and asked, in sheer desperation, "What the hell do we do now? We're trapped in a school with FUCKING ZOMBIES! I mean, how are we-" I interrupted, claw hammer and iron nails in hand, building defenses. "We arm ourselfs, we find as many living people as we can and we get the fuck out of here. Check out the staff room and find anything to help us out." He ran to the room and shouted, "Alex, you might want to see this!" I ran through, hammer still in hand. I stood in amazement. The hammer dropped. Ready-made beds, M16A4 rifles, Colt M1911 pistols, enough ammo for a third-world country and reinforced door and windows. A ready-made undead shelter. Someone knew this was coming.

The End

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