We just stopped at a gas station hoping to find some abandoned cars for a quick pit stop. Kevin has experience siphoning gas, whether or not it was before the apocalypse I’ll never know. I see a few walkers stumbling towards us before doing quick work with them with a trusty hammer I found in a now empty toolbox. All things considered, things were going well. Great. Now I just jinxed it.
Kevin: Almost got it
Jake: I thought you get gas from the lid, not the tank itself
Kevin: Would you rather suck out the gas? Wouldn’t be that surprised if you drink it. You’re more robotic than a Transformer. (In a monotone, robotic voice) “Gotta get to her. Can’t stop now” Blah, blah blah.
Jake: Ha ha. (I roll my eyes)
Kevin: See! You even laugh like a robot!
Jake: Shouldn’t you be done by now?
Kevin: I can’t help it. My instinct to defeat you with common sense distracts me from being productive.
Jake: That pretty much sums up our 6 hour drive. (Takes the map from the front seat of the car) 60 more miles til Macon. We can get there in an hour and find some food. We’re running out rather quick.
Kevin: Yeah, one sec.
A few moments later, he comes out from under the car with a gallon. Half an hour later and we’re on the road with 3/4 of a tank. Half an hour has passed as they get in the car, turning onto the main road until I see a sign.
Jake: Hey, look. Riverton High School is two miles from here.
Kevin: Who cares?
Jake: High schools carry tons of food. Not to mention that they were shelters during the first month of the plague. It’s practically a gold mine.
Kevin: Yeah, if you don’t count a huge group of zombies and possibly no supplies.
Jake: Oh, come on. Think positively!
Kevin: I’m positive that this won’t end well.
Five minutes later and I slowly drive up to the school before stopping at the football field. Both of us get out as I head for the trunk, taking a .45 pistol while Kevin has a baseball bat and hammer. We begin heading toward the entrance, keeping a watchful eye of possible threats. The school is massive. A 15 ft high building with what seems like a fortress from the front wall. The glass door is broken so the two careful sneak into the facility, tiny crunches of glass proceeding from their shoes.
The more we head into the building, the more open it becomes, displaying an open roofed courtyard. A sanctuary with trees, plants, and open areas for students now sits as a distant memory for those still alive to remember. Kevin looks to his left, jumping at the sight of at least 40 walkers scratching two giant glass doors, itching to lunge at the new visitors. They seemed to be trapped in the administration building, most likely not an accident. I motion Kevin to move forward as we walk toward the cafeteria, guarded by multiple walkers. I motion to Kevin again, thinking they could slip through the back and grab some food.
Suddenly, a click of a weapon is heard as two figures emerge from a bathroom, guns aiming at both of us. Two teens, possibly 15 and 16. One is a skinny white kit with a haircut that reminds me of Justin Bieber while the other is tall, a bit more muscular with not much hair at all.
Jake: Who are you?
Biebercut: Who are you?!
Baldy: Relax, Chase
Kevin: I’m Kevin.
Jake: Good for you.
Biebercut: (Lowering his gun) You’re not thieves, right? Cause we literally have nothing valuable.
Jake: I can see that, (Gun aiming at Baldy, who still holds his up for protection). What brings you here?
Baldy: I live here. What are you doing here?
Kevin: We’re here cause Smarty McSmartass here thought it’d be a good idea to get food from the cafeteria.
Jake: (Glares at Kevin for a second) I still say it’s a good plan.
Biebercut: Let’s just all relax here. We’re all in the clear that we won’t shoot either of each other, right?
Baldy: (Begins to lower his gun, hoping Jake would do the same but keeping it at a dangerous position)
Jake: (Slowly lowers his) We can share, right?
Baldy: (Puts his down) The name’s Eric. Smarty, right?
Jake: Call me Rannson. Fits better than Smarty.
Eric and I shake hands, showing mild respect before hearing a gunshot that pierces the hallway of the school. Chase and Eric jump turning to each other, both shouting “THE GYM!” as they sprint the other direction. Kevin and I exchange looks before following. We run outside towards the gym, catching up to Eric and Chase as screams are growing louder. Chase runs up to the door, flinging it open as the four watch in horror. Zombies crowding into the weight lifting room as they feast upon a group of teen survivors, at least 10 as Chase and Eric begin shooting.
Kevin and I stand still, not sure whether it’s better to defend the room or make a run for it. Eric slams the door that the walkers are coming from, locking it with weighs held against the door as Chase starts consoling a girl bitten in multiple places; blood covering her skin as she looks up at Chase. His shouting in denial drowning out the growls of walkers from the other room. I turn around and see walkers heading toward the building, slamming the door behind us. Now I know for a fact that we’re trapped with the aftermath of a massacre. Kevin then leans toward my ear, whispering “Told you this wouldn’t end well”.