When The Light Goes Out (6 page)

"She was completely aware of it." Ian wailed, ripping his arm from Dustin's grip, but not moving any further away.

"She was begging for help. Saying she didn't want to be one of them." I said, as way of explanation, feeling myself begin to cry again. I tried not to though. I squeezed my eyes shut, and didn't allow the salty water freedom. I breathed deeply until I felt my eyes finally stop leaking. "I had to kill her."

"Oh, no. Oh, God." Apparently Cathy knew why we were so upset. She went so far as to hug me, she rocked me a little bit. I hoped that she was older then me, realizing how stupid it would be to be rocked by someone younger then myself.

"Let's go back, the others are worried.. it'll be okay, you two. It'll be all right." Dustin said, softly. Gently guiding both Ian, and myself in the direction of the group. I was amazed at how calm he was being. How gentle he was. No one should have been able to act that way, in the situation we were in.

When we finally entered the front room, no one was there, so we crossed through into the auditorium, where maybe fifteen people were staring at us. The location confused me. I didn't now why they'd chosen the auditorium to keep us all in. Other then the seats, I mean. There were countless, large windows to be broken in. Multiple doors for the creatures to gain entrance. I didn't know why they thought it was safe. I really didn't. But I didn't know if I should ask. Would it scare the others if I asked?

It didn't quite matter to me as much as it should have. I needed peace of mind.

"Dustin?" I nodded my head when he looked, and asked my question. "Why the auditorium?" "Because as many entrances as they may have here, we have just as many exits."

"Good point." "Thank you."

The explanation did calm my nerves quite a bit. It told me that thought had gone into picking our hiding place. In fact, it gave me the thought that maybe argument had gone into it. Which, considering the fact that Professor Floyd was sitting there regardless of the look of agony was not only a possibility, but more likely then anything else at that moment in time.

I smiled, a small, nervous little thing as I claimed myself one of the uncomfortable chairs in the back. I wanted to sit, and hate myself without interruption. Maybe, if I sat in the back, I'd die first. Or last, as the case may be. I almost hit myself for the thought. A zombie invasion is not the best time to go suicidal, not even a good time.

Damn.

Damn.

I nearly jumped four rows in front of my seat when something crashed loudly against the door behind me. I couldn't suppress the fear that it was a horde of zombies, wanting to eat me. Which really was kind of stupid, seeing as I was only just considering letting them do exactly that.

Then the crash came again.

Weapons were raised save for mine, lost somewhere in the school and we all shifted towards the back of the room. Then the doorknob turned.

Crap.

CHAPTER FOUR

All of us got a bit antsy, at the opening of the door. But instead of zombies being quite smart enough to figure that one out, a living, breathing, bleeding boy popped in. Completely out of breath, and in the middle of forcing the door closed behind him. I couldn't help but notice his rather long hair, pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck, continuing to hang maybe two inches below that. Couldn't help but take note of the two guns in his left hand. One couldn't tell his skin color, as he was absolutely drenched in blood, but his eyes were brown. A light brown that reminded me of my brother.

Everything reminded me of my brother.

"You okay, kid?" Dustin asked, already moving toward the panting man. He didn't look like a kid. In fact, he looked at least in his midtwenties.

Part of me wondered where Dustin got his heart from. I, as a person, no matter how much I cared, would not have been able to approach the bloody boy. Even an entire auditorium away from him, he scared me. I couldn't figure how he got quite so much blood on him. He was outright dripping. But he didn't appear to be wounded. There was no way all the blood was his, he'd have died from loss already.

Damn.

I, along with maybe ten other students, stared in various levels of horror. At the boy. At the way Dustin approached him. The way he was carelessly looking him over. At the blood. The guns in his hand. I was staring at a combination of them. Eyes flickering constantly from one point to the other. I felt terrible staring at him, like he was diseased.

But there was an undeniable chance that he was. Shit.

"Excel!"

I jumped when Dustin called out my name, turning wide eyes to him. Was I the only one staring? Looking around, everyone seemed to have turned their gaze to me. What did he want? I was borderline frantic as I took a single step forward, not quite willing to get close.

"Excel, come on. He's not bitten!" So?

He could still be infected.

My brother hadn't been bitten.

But I stepped forward anyway, wondering what was required of me. The bloody boy looked completely calm but that didn't set me anymore on my ease. If anything, it made me even more paranoid. He was covered with blood from head to toe. His hair was plastered to his neck. His shirt was sticking to his chest.

He wasn't wearing shoes.

I didn't know why he wasn't wearing shoes.

"Dustin?"

"Are there any sinks, Excel? Some sort of water supply? Not necessarily drinking water. But.. anything." Dustin spoke in well measured words. His accent shining through clearly without hindering my understanding of the question. I didn't know how he did it. I didn't know why he asked me. There were some teachers, and several other students.

Me.

He trusted me.

"There are sinks in the Chemistry lab," I recalled having taken a very short Chemistry course. Giving up the first time I lost an article of clothing, and a tidy bit of flesh. "Yeah, the

Chemistry room. 234. Up the left stair" "Take him there."

"What?"

"Take him there. Help him get cleaned up. Come back down." Dustin laid out his instructions exactly. Every bit of them. But he smiled at me, gently, all the same. Probably seeing the fear on my face. "He's got two, fully loaded guns, and refills. You'll be safe. Go."

That wasn't what I was worried about.

When he shot me a look I nodded my head, however reluctantly. I turned my head to the boy standing there. I gave him a good look, before beginning to walk. I couldn't help but wonder where the blood was from in the first place. It looked like he'd been swimming in it. I had to wonder who he was. Would he be an ally? Would he cause trouble? Where did he get the guns?

"Well.." I wasn't so sure what to say as we entered the hallway. He was being completely silent. Walking with both of his hands shoved in his pockets, save for the fingers hooked around the guns hanging outside of the fabric. A solemn expression on his face. He had a nice face, come to think of it. Although it was an altogether inappropriate time to think about who was attractive, and who wasn't. "I'm Excel."

"I heard." "Oh.. well.." "I'm Malachi."

"Malachi? Like from"

"Any
Children of the Corn
references will get you shot." "I wasn't saying that! I was going to say"

"Religious references will get you fed to the people outside." I couldn't stop the nervous smile.

What did I ever do to deserve the situation I'd been thrust into? I wondered. Did I, at one point in my life, kick a puppy? Did I hurt some cute little kitten? Because otherwise I

couldn't figure out what got me walking down an incredibly creepy hallway, with someone who did not threaten my life just once threatened it twice for no reason, whatsoever. "I wasn't going to make a religious reference either. I'm not really religious.."

"Good for you."

"..I don't see how I could be at a time like this.." "I don't care."

"..Stuck in a school.." "Shut up."

"..During a zombie invasion.." "Shut
up
!"

"..With
you
! What is your problem man?! I mean
Jesus
. I'm just trying to strike polite conversation. Does that bother you? Are you completely friggen immune to these things? Are you not scared? You're covered with friggen blood, you ass. The least you could do is try to be polite!"

"Be polite by shutting your mouth."

I didn't respond to that. I just stopped moving, and stared at the boy, opened mouthed, in front of the stairwell. I couldn't believe what he'd said. If that wasn't just the worst attitude I'd ever been faced with and I just wanted to pop him in the teeth. But I didn't. Instead I ripped open the door to the stairs, and jogged up them as quickly as I could, not even thinking about what may be standing just around the corner. Just beyond the next door.

Stupid idea really. Retarded idea.

The moment I opened the door at the second floor landing, I was greeted by a series of moans that made my skin crawl. Really focusing on the world around me revealed four ghouls. Leaning there. Limping there. Crawling there. Only one of them was standing like a regular human, remaining without any visible wounds. One thought that he got the disease without getting bitten.

Meanwhile there was one with what looked to be a broken leg, if the pink stained white bone sticking from its leg said anything reaching a torn arm toward me, but not moving. There was another one that only looked to have a broken ankle or so, and was steadily shufflelimping to me. The final one just didn't have any legs. Whether they'd been torn off, or eaten was beyond me. But she.. he.. I couldn't tell was dragging itself over to me by its arms.

I nearly screamed.

I got thrown out of the way. A series of shots rang out.

I looked up to the sight of Malachi, the attitude whipping boy standing there, both arms fully extended with their respective guns. I was happy he was there, but at the same time the way his lips were smugly pursed into a line pissed me off. He looked completely calm, however lost in thought, as he lowered the guns to quickly reload. That wasn't how he was suppose to look.

It wasn't.

When the last zombie dropped or effectively stopped all movement he looked down at me. Raising an eyebrow as if to taunt me. As if to ask me, "So? What do you say?" As if

I'd thank him. Jackass that he was being. I couldn't care less what the situation was, he should have at least tried to be nice. Jeeze.

"Good aim." Was the only comment I allowed myself to give, before I pushed myself up, and carefully sidestepped the carcasses. It took me a moment to remember which way

"234" was, but eventually I was moving quite quickly in that direction. Malachi moving steadily behind me. Guns still out, every time I looked back at him.

I felt like a fool when I almost walked past the room in question, but apparently the boy was looking for the number even harder then I was. His hand gripped my shoulder, and yanked me back a little more violently then (I hoped) he wanted to. But I couldn't be sure while looking at the disinterested expression.

Ass.

But I needed to go with him anyway. The door.

I shivered when I gripped the handle.

The chemistry room was silent. Eerie silent. Horror movie silent. This room I was cautious going into, as there were many places for the man-eaters to hide. Under the tables, which you couldn't see under from the front or sides. In the closets, given they could get the doors open. Too many damn places to count. Too many to think about consider. So I looked around, stepped in sideways with my back to the front wall and held the door for him.

Ungrateful bastard.

I didn't even get a grunt for my efforts.

He didn't even look around the room before he walked to the side wall, and turned both faucets. Setting the water pressure to full strength. He didn't even look at me as he pulled off his shirt, dropping it in the middle of the sink before moving to wash his arms first.

He had a completely flat stomach.

Maybe even a pack. I couldn't tell.

Figures it would be the one major ass that has the super model physique. "Soap?"

I looked over at the curious expression on the boys face. Soap. He wanted soap. How was I suppose to know where the soap was? I didn't supply the room. Didn't stock the closets. I shot him a look, but went on a search for the soap anyway. I didn't want to give him any reason to be mad at me, not that he needed a reason anyway.