Chapter 1: The Escape

I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, sending dust flying as the truck’s worn tires skidded down the trail. My heart raced with the hope that the eerie sounds I heard were mere figments of my imagination. But the gunfire was relentless now—multiple guns firing in quick succession: Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam. I could distinguish the sharp cracks of a hunting rifle; it had to be Sam stationed atop the fieldhouse. Then came the rapid-fire pops of a .22 and the booming blast of a shotgun. If Edgar was out there, things must have taken a turn for the worse.

The truck swerved as we hit the main road. Evan was busy checking his pistol, ensuring there was a round chambered. Our ammunition supply was dangerously low.

As we neared the entrance, a horde of at least thirty zombies was gathered there, and it didn’t make sense that no one was at the gate. The massive iron barrier swung freely as the undead pushed through into Shadowood.

“Oh God,” Evan muttered, “this is going to be chaotic.”

I accelerated, aiming the truck at a group near the gate. Their bodies crunched sickeningly beneath us, but I had no time to hesitate. I needed to reach the fieldhouse; I had to find Lauren.

“Hold on a second,” Evan said.

“What?” I nearly brushed him off.

“Stop!” he urged. I slammed the brakes, and Evan jumped into the truck bed. I knew his intent, and even before he tapped the window, I was already driving toward the fieldhouse, weaving around zombies.

The front of the fieldhouse resembled a battlefield; bodies lay strewn everywhere, gunfire erupted, and students were fending off the oncoming horde.

A sigh of relief escaped me when I spotted Lauren, expertly dispatching zombies with her rifle. Sam was perched on the roof, while Emma stood by Lauren, taking out threats with her handgun. Even Levi was there, swinging a shovel like a man possessed, trying to keep the monsters at bay, while a few students helped, though most struggled with their aim. Yet, despite the defenders, the zombies were everywhere.

Suddenly, a loud screech and then a series of pops filled the air. Evan was tossing firecrackers to distract the swarm. The commotion drew some of them away, creating a small window for us to reach the fieldhouse.

“Where is everyone?” Evan asked.

“Most of the kids are inside,” Emma replied.

“Keep firing until you’re out of ammo, then get inside,” Evan instructed.

“What’s your plan?” Lauren inquired.

“Doing what I do best,” Evan replied.

He leaned in close to the window, “Drop me off out there, then come back and make sure nothing gets into the fieldhouse. Edgar, lock the door and don’t open it until it’s all over.” Edgar nodded in agreement.

“Get inside, Levi,” Evan commanded. Initially resistant, Levi eventually relented, looking to Emma, “Can you handle yourself?”

“Yes,” she affirmed.

“We'll find out,” Evan said resolutely.

As the firecrackers fizzled out, the horde resumed their relentless assault. I dropped Evan off about fifty feet from the fieldhouse and jogged back, rifle in hand. Evan wasted no time; zombies fell as soon as he notched an arrow.

Evan was a force of nature, shooting arrows with precision, and though he was taking them down swiftly, they continued advancing toward the fieldhouse. I raised my rifle, aligning the sights with the approaching heads. With twenty rounds, I managed to drop ten zombies. Lauren took down five with six shots, while Emma fired three times, hitting two before running out of ammo. Our supplies dwindled faster than expected, and soon we were facing a flood of the undead.

“Get inside!” Evan yelled, but the three of us exchanged glances.

“I’m not leaving,” Lauren declared, brandishing her machete.

Evan leaped from the truck bed, discarding his bow for an axe. I almost felt pity for the infected as they fell beneath his strikes. Groups of zombies shifted their focus to him, but his axe met their skulls before they could close in.

Several bypassed Evan, advancing toward the fieldhouse, but Lauren dealt with them swiftly, moving with a grace that resembled a grim ballet. Her machete was a deadly extension of her will.

Emma, however, struggled more. Armed with a hammer, she needed mul