Chapter 8

The barricade was failing.

A sickening crack split the air as one of the desks they had shoved against the door splintered under the pressure. The creatures on the other side snarled and shrieked, their hunger-fueled rage growing louder.

Elise's pulse was a hammer in her ears. They were seconds away from getting in.

"We have to do this now!" Damian barked. "Make the noise, lure them in, get the hell out!"

Juno was still shaking her head, her back pressed against the farthest wall like she could somehow will herself out of the situation. "This is insane, we're going to get ourselves killed."

BANG.

Another desk gave way. A rotten arm burst through the widening gap, its fingers twitching wildly, clawing at the air. There was no time for more arguments.

"GO!" Callum snarled.

Damian was the first to move, pushing off the wall and sprinting towards the barricade. He turned sharply, cupping his hands over his mouth.

Then he yelled.

"HEY! OVER HERE, YOU UGLY SACKS OF SHIT!"

The sound boomed through the classroom, bouncing off the walls and reverberating into the hallway beyond. It was reckless. It was loud. It was everything the undead thrived on.

For a single, terrifying second, nothing happened.

Then, the creatures outside the door let out a deafening shriek. The entire barricade shuddered violently, as if the zombies had doubled their efforts all at once, their decaying bodies slamming toward the source of the noise.

It was working.

Elise could hear the pounding shifting, some of the zombies were now redirecting themselves, drawn by the echo of Damian's shout. The pressure against the barricade increased as more and more zombies focused on the distraction.

But it wasn't enough. Not yet. They needed more.

Callum clenched his jaw, then cupped his hands and joined in. "COME ON, YOU BRAINLESS FREAKS! OVER HERE!"

Juno made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, looking horrified at how recklessly they were calling attention to themselves. But Elise could see it working. The howls and groans were shifting, the shuffling footsteps growing louder near the barricaded door, and, more importantly, away from their escape route.

"We go on three," Damian hissed.

The barricade was moments from collapsing completely. More hands were pushing through, the creatures snarling and snapping, desperate to reach them.

"ONE!"

The desk wedging the door suddenly jerked forward, pulled by sheer brute force.

"TWO!"

The door ripped open slightly. A gaping, rotting mouth forced itself through the crack, teeth gnashing wildly.

"THREE, RUN!"

The group bolted.

Elise was the last one out, her heart slamming against her ribs as she threw herself through the open door.

Behind her, the barricade gave out completely.

The last thing she saw before Damian yanked her forward was a wave of rotting bodies spilling into the classroom, snarling at the empty space they had just vacated.

Their plan had worked.

But if they didn't keep moving, it wouldn't matter.

"Go, go, GO!" Damian urged.

They ran.

The hallway stretched ahead of them, dark and suffocating. Elise's lungs burned as she pushed herself faster, every instinct screaming at her to keep running, to not look back.

They had made it out. But the entire school was still crawling with the dead.

Shadows stretched long against the cracked tile floors, flickering under the emergency lights that barely sputtered overhead. The distant sound of groaning bodies echoed loudly. But the hallway was still clear.

Elise's chest heaved as they slowed down, their footsteps softer now, more calculated. They had made it out of the classroom. But the worst part was still ahead.

"We need a phone," Damian said, scanning the rows of metal lockers like the answer would magically reveal itself. "We find one fast, get help, and get out."

My phone.

She had left it in her locker.

Her heart pounded. It was stupid. She should've thought of this sooner, should've realized before they ran straight into the hall, but in the chaos, it hadn't even crossed her mind.

And now it was the closest phone they could get.

She stopped so abruptly that Callum nearly collided into her.

"Elise?" Damian snapped, barely keeping his voice low.

"My phone," she whispered. "I'm sure it's in my locker."

"You've got to be kidding me," Juno groaned, throwing her head back.

"It makes sense," Callum muttered, scanning the locker numbers quickly. "We're already here. It's the fastest option."

Elise's pulse was racing, her body screaming at her to keep moving, but she forced herself to stay focused. If she could get to her phone, if they could call for help this nightmare might finally have a way out.

But first, she had to open the damn locker.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the lock. The combination was buried in muscle memory, but now, under pressure, her fingers fumbled against the cool metal.

Come on, come on, come on.

The distant sound of something shifting made her head snap up. Down the hall, past the lockers a shape moved.

Juno let out a shaky breath. "Uh, guys? We might wanna hurry this up."

Elise's pulse roared in her ears as she turned back to the lock.

She forced herself to focus. Right. Left. Right. Right.

The lock clicked.

She yanked the door open, her stomach twisting as the metal creaked loudly in the quiet. Every noise felt deafening now, like a signal flare going off in enemy territory.

She grabbed the phone.

"Got it," she breathed.

"Move," Damian urged, already stepping back.

But Elise wasn't listening, because suddenly, for the first time since this nightmare started, they had a real chance.

A phone. A way out. A way to call for help.

Her fingers were already moving before she could think about it, unlocking the screen and pulling up the dial pad.

"We need to try 911 first," she said, her voice coming out more frantic than she intended.

"No," Juno hissed, eyes wide with absolute horror. "We need to GET THE HELL OUT OF THE HALLWAY FIRST."

"She's right," Callum muttered, glancing around. "We should at least…"

But Elise had already dialed. The phone rang. She held her breath.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"We're sorry, all lines are currently busy due to the high volume of calls. Please stay on the line or try again later."

Elise's heart plummeted.

She tried again.

Same message.

"God," she whispered.

Juno looked furious. "What did I just say?! We don't have time for this!"

Damian grabbed Elise's wrist. "We need to go. Now."

"No, wait!" Elise blurted out. "I can call my dad."

A sharp pause.

Callum exhaled. "He's a doctor, right?"

Elise nodded frantically. "If anyone has information, if anyone knows where we can go, it's him."

Juno looked like she wanted to punch something.

"This is so stupid, we need to leave this place." she muttered under her breath.

But Elise wasn't listening anymore. She dialed. The phone rang.

And this time, someone answered.

"Elise?"

Her father's voice crackled through the line, weak, grainy, barely cutting through the static.

Her throat tightened. "Dad! Dad, it's me! Where are you? Are you okay?"

A deep breath on the other end. "Elise. Listen to me. You need to…" static "…bus…" more static "…get out…"

"I can't hear you," she said desperately. "Where do we go?"

The background noise was strange. Distant shouting. A loud, mechanical whirring. A siren.

Her stomach clenched. "Dad?"

"You need to…"

More static.

Then, finally, she heard him. "Get to a bus."

Elise's breath caught.

"What? Why? Where are you?"

"Bus, go to," static "…vacation house…"

Elise nearly sobbed with relief. "The cabin? Are you there? Are you safe?"

The line cracked violently, distorting her father's voice.

The call had dropped.

"No," Elise whispered, hitting redial. Nothing.

She tried again.

No service.

Just like that, their only lifeline was gone.

She stood frozen, gripping the phone so tightly her fingers ached.

Juno shoved her. "Are you done? Or do you want to die right here in the hallway?"

Elise barely registered the words, but her survival instincts finally kicked in.

They had to move. Now.

She whirled around, only to realize the hallway wasn't empty anymore. A figure stood near the classroom door ahead. Not a zombie. Not a stranger.

Amari.