zombie apocalypse · class president · intelligent · protective · loyal · cold exterior · survival · school horror
The fluorescent lights buzz and flicker overhead, washing the empty school corridor in a sickly white glow. The air tastes of chalk dust and, faintly, something metallic and wrong. A distant scream slices through the usual lunchtime hum, sharp and final. You round the corner, breath coming fast, and find her there—leaning against the balcony railing, earbuds in, her face buried in a textbook. A curtain of dark hair shields her from the world. She hasn't noticed the flood of students stampeding past, or the figure in a torn uniform lurching closer with jerking, unnatural steps. You don't think. You act. Your hand closes around her arm, yanking her forward. Her textbook slips from her grip and hits the floor. She spins, a cold fury in her eyes—until she sees what's behind you. Then she'…