"I can't believe we both got detention."

"Yeah, but you were being pretty mouthy, and I just couldn't help joining in."

"I sure hope Mr. Chan's stroke wasn't too serious."

"Yeah, that was a bit of a shock. The old guy just buckled." Liam pushes the door to the detention room open and smiles. "Hey guys! You got detention too?"

Three boys sit lazily at their desks in the otherwise empty room. "Yeah," one of them says, "We got caught cheating on a test."

"Haha. Good job. Elizabeth," Liam says, gesturing toward the boys. "This is Jeff, Lenny and Carl. They're on the badminton team."

"Wait," she says, grinning a little. "Your names are Lenny and Carl?"

"Yeah yeah, let's not make a big deal about it," says Lenny, a little annoyed.

"No problem." The two of them sit down at some nearby desks, relaxing. Liam says, "I wonder when the teach is gonna show up?"

Suddenly the sound of a loud, distant explosion rings through the air. They all jump a little, and turn toward the window. Outside, everything seems normal.

"What the hell was that?" Carl asks, pulling one of the windows open and leaning outside.

"I dunno," Jeff says, leaning back in his chair. "Don't sweat it, it's probably nothing."

6:00pm

"Oh god, they've got Lenny! Not Lenny! Holy fuck, somebody help him! Help!"

Liam looks back but knows it's too late – the creatures have already wrestled Lenny to the floor and are clawing slavishly at his skin. "Leave him, he's gone! Come on, we've gotta go!"

"No!" Carl breaks from them and runs back down the school hallway, toward the mob of hunched creatures. He grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall and fiddles with it for a moment, then unloads its contents at Lenny's attackers. Most continue their feast, but a few turn slowly around.

He sees their faces clearly; some look almost normal, except for their cold, unfocused eyes. Others are far more horrible, their jawbones hanging from their faces and huge patches of blood and bone showing through their scalps. Some are faculty of the school, others must have wandered in from outside. For a moment he's paralyzed as they slowly shamble toward him, then lifts the fire extinguisher high over his head and brings it down on the closest one's head.

There is a loud cracking sound, audible even over the constant noise of distant screaming and fire. The creature's head is forced to the side, at an angle far further than he's ever seen a neck bend, and it tries several times to pull its head upright. This elicits only a wet clicking sound from the bones in its neck, and finally, it stops. Its eyes roll slowly toward Carl, and it continues to walk.

"No... NO!" He charges toward the things, lunging at them. He takes one to the ground and begins smashing it in the head, crying, "You bastards! You killed him!" as the thing moves its arms impotently, trying to get a hold of Carl.

Carl feels something brush lightly against his neck, then feels a pair of almost skeletal hands wrap loosely around his throat. The stench of burnt flesh is overwhelming, and he starts to choke. Then, in a surprising burst of strength, the hands tighten, cutting off his oxygen. He then feels other pairs of hands begin grapsing at his pants, his hair and his arms. They overpower him before he can get to his feet and force him to the ground, clawing at his shirt and gouging his back. With all his strength he manages to turn over, and sees half a dozen dead faces looking down at him. They manage to pull open his shirt and begin jabbing at his belly with their blunt fingers, drool and blood seeping from their mouths and on to his body. Discharge from the creature directly above him pours into his face and he closes his eyes. Suddenly, he feels something plunge into his stomach. He opens his eyes and sees a hand covered in burns, with occasional pieces of bone showing through almost wrist deep in his abdomen. He tries to scream but can barely manage a whisper as more hands continue to tighten around his neck and arms. A set of teeth close down on one of his ears and pull violently, tearing it half off. On the second pull it's gone, and another set of fingers reaches down to push into one of his eyes. The only sound is the rustling of the creatures clothes and the sound of his innards being torn apart as pair after pair of hands continue to plunge into him.

Liam and Elizabeth continue running almost as soon as Carl turns away from them, carrying the badly hurt Jeff. They turn a corner and manage to shut themselves in an empty art room. Liam locks the door and Elizabeth sits Jeff down against the back wall, between two large windows.

"This is no good," Liam says. "We have to get upstairs, those windows aren't protected at all. They could get in."

"I don't know if they're strong enough to break the glass." Elizabeth wipes some sweat from Jeff's forehead and says, "He's getting colder."

Jeff has jagged, open wounds on his arms and legs; a few have been hastly bandaged with torn pieces of clothing, but most continue to seep blood down his body and onto the floor. "Jeff, can you hear me?" He doesn't acknowledge her, but stares vacantly into space. "Jeff!"

Slowly he turns his head toward her and says, in a small, scratchy voice, "Don't worry, I'm okay. I'm not one of those fucking things yet..."

Liam goes to a window and leans against the pane, looking out. "This is fucking crazy. It looks like half the town is on fire." He looks quietly for a moment. "And where is everybody?" A woman with only half a face shuffles slowly past the window, causing him to jump back, but she continues on without noticing him.

Just then, the sound of hands scraping against the door becomes audible. The sounds increase, and soon it's obvious that at least half a dozen fists are banging slowly against the door.

"You know what they are, don't you?" Elizabeth mutters, almost in a daze. "They're zombies."

"I know."

"You know what zombies are? They're a metaphor. They're a metaphor for the masses, for the brainless fucking masses who are all over the place, who just want to kill us and don't even know why... groups, society... it's all society..."

"What the fuck are you talking about? They aren't metaphors! They're fucking zombies! They want to kill us! We don't have time for this random bullshit philosophizing!"

He runs a hand through his hair and looks around for something to strengthen the door. He pushes one of the art tables up against it, then looks around for something to barricade the windows. He notices that Elizabeth is staring straight at him.

"I think Jeff's dead."

He sits down tiredly, his head in his hands.

"We have to kill him," she says. "He might come back."

"I know... Fuck, I wish we had a gun."

"Look, why don't we just get out of here?" She stands up, leaving Jeff's corpse sitting liply against the wall. She gestures toward the window. "There don't seem to be too many of them on this side – we could just break the window and get out of here."

"To where?"

"Anywhere! Our houses, the police station, out of town! This can't be going on everywhere. This school is full of them, we've been trapped in here for hours. If we don't make a break soon, we might not make it at all."

"No, we're gonna make it. I'm not going to be killed by fucking zombies. I mean, what the fuck? How can they be real?" He breathes heavily into his hands, then stands up. "Okay, let's do it. He picks up a chair. "Stand back."

She moves out of the way and he hurls the chair through the air, loudly smashing the window.

"That sound is sure to attract them," he says as he smashes out the remaining glass. "Come on." They climb through the window and look around, seeing only a few zombies in the immediate area, all far enough away to avoid. "Where are we going?"

"To my house. I have to check on my mom."

"Alright." He takes her hand, and they start to run.

Inside the art room, lying silently against the wall, one of Jeff's fingers twitches slightly. His torso then lurches forward and he lands on his face with a thumping sound. His arms and legs slowly begin to move, picking him up from the ground, eventually raising him to his feet. Finally, his neck straightens slightly and his eyes begin to move, scanning blankly across the room. When they come to the broken window they pause, and he clumsily begins to climb outside.