Untitled Story
“...and the fungus slowly grows in the frog’s brain.”
Mrs. Peach makes biology both more interesting and frightening than any class I’ve ever had.
“… involuntary movement.”
But I’m tired and I just want to go home.
“Is it Tuesday?” she looks down at her watch, puzzling as the sirens go off. The skies are clear, no sign of a storm. She checks her phone, buzzing on her desk. Our phones are on silent, but she gets to have hers out. She looks scared. It’s not our first tornado drill, what’s the big deal.
The knob turns and Mr. Garick sticks his head in “Jade, lockdown, now.” He turns to leave and a man is on him, knocking him to the ground as the door closes. Mrs. Peach drops her phone and runs to the door, locking it.
“Judy, close the curtains!” Judy’s always raising her hand and ruining the test curve. She’s the only girl on the football team – a catcher, or whatever you call it. Timmy gets up from the back and covers some windows while Judy gets the others. There’s a bang on the door, and a footsteps in the hall. And screaming.
“Whats going on!” some of the other kids cry.
“Back of the room! Shh,” Mrs. Peach whisper-yells at us. There’s blood coming through the bottom of the door. There’s loud bangs outside, guns. Mrs. Peach is shaking. She grabs keys out of her purse, fiddles around under her desk, and comes out holding a handgun. Murmurs from some of the kids. Horror struck silent phases from others among us. Bobby’s weeping while Timmy holds her and shushes her.
The door is rattling. Judy’s pushing the large teacher’s desk toward the door when the glass window shatters behind. Mrs. Peach raises the gun to shoot at the bloody woman coming through, one of her arms half-missing. Judy takes the bullet to the head before the woman gets on her. Mrs. Peach shoots a bunch more times, killing the woman too. Judy’s blood is spattered on the text books piled up on the counter. Everybody’s screaming. Most of us.
Bobby grab’s my shoulder – I guess she’s calm now. She’s got a knife out. Timmy’s following her and I get up and go too. Mrs. Peach is just standing here. Eyes wide. Closer to the bodies, to the window. “Wait,” I say. They’re not waiting. I grab a box of ammo from that safe. I take the gun. She was about to drop it anyway. Some of the other kids are following us.
I’ve been hunting since I was 9. First time I killed something, my mom had missed the heart. The deer was crying. I shot it in the head, shattered one of the antlers. I want to put Mrs. Peach out of her misery. She’ll never be the same again. If this is what I think it is, she won’t make it out of this anyway. I probably won’t either. But I shouldn’t waste the ammo. And there’s no time to think on it. I hurry out the window and catch up to Bobby and Timmy.
Bobby stabs a man in the heart who was charging at her. Timmy helped push him off so as not to topple on Bobby. He lies there, still. The knife is stuck and more are coming. I start running. Timmy pulls Bobby by the arm and they follow after.
There’s not a lot of “people” out here. Thankfully. Some of them tripping on themselves. We’ve run across the grass, across the playground, and jump over the fence meant to keep us safe from going into traffic. There’s only a few cars on the road right now, and they seem none too bothered or hurried. Whatever’s going on, it must be on the radio by now – then again, they’re probably listening to podcasts or music and who knows if they’ll get the message. Most of us just ignore the alerts on our phones anyway. Some child kidnapping. Some weather event. Who knows.
Jacob pulls up in his truck, stopping and yelling for us to get in. Timmy hops in passenger while Bobby and I get in the bed. He drives off, squealing the tires, jerking us around when he turns. Bobby grabs the ammo that I tossed in before jumping in myself.
“SLOW DOWN” Bobby yells. I put the safety back on after the first time I almost flew out. Jacob does take the next few turns a bit slower, and we don’t fly out as we cross over the railroad tracks. That’s a start. The sirens are blaring. There’s gunshots all over. I don’t dare stick my head up.
“I bet it’s that fungus.” She just looks at me. “From class today?” She just looks at me. I sigh. I want to cry, but things will need to calm down first. I wonder if they will. We just lie there, looking at eachother.
The guns fade into the distance. We’re on a country road now, heading out of town. Jacob pulls over and tells us to get in the cab. It’s a four seater; we were in a hurry before.
“We have guns and food out at the farm.” Jacob’s family has an old farmhouse on long-ago stolen land.
“AP says it’s a neurological infection. The radio’s calling them Zombies.” Timmy had been googling while Jacob drove.
“That one died from a stab to the chest,” Bobby said. “Seemed like it anyway.”
“I should’ve shot Mrs. Peach.”
“What the FUCK, Jimmy.” Yeah. Jimmy & Timmy. It’s a peach.
“She was … She was gone. You didn’t see the look in her eye.”
“Nobody’s replying. Not my mom, dad. Max and Esther. Judy. Oh fuck. Judy. Right.” Timmy’s voice cracked.
“My phone’s back in my locker.”
“Mine too.”
“Jacob’s was in the glove box.”
“… the marines are deploying in Maine, where the outbreak is widespread. The president is planning to bomb the city where it started. But it looks like it started in a lot of places, and spread slowly at first.”
“Turn that off!”
“Jimmy, we need to know.” She was right.
And so we listened as the bombs approached. We wouldn’t make it to the farm in time. The shelter probably wouldn’t survive anyway.