[IC] Shelter

SLICE OF LIFE | SURVIVAL HORROR

---

So began the end times for the students of Stockbridge Academy.

In the midst of the chaos, twelve students had managed to flee, taking shelter within the Teacher's Lounge. Their retreat, however, had not been left unnoticed by their now unliving peers, who had been hot on their heels, eager to gnaw at the flesh of the living. The lust consumed what was once human; their rage uncontrolled and unrelenting, stopping short of nothing as they banged on the lounge door, desperately trying to get inside. Besides the incessant banging, the only other sounds would be guttural growls of the infected and the screams of the dying. Thankfully, it was clear that no one else would have to die, at least for the time being.

Some of the students wisened up, realizing the danger that was outside. Pushing a large table against the door, they tossed whatever else they could find—chairs, metal stands and other miscellaneous objects—onto the makeshift barricade. Though there was no clear way of telling if it would hold, the infected eventually dispersed, seemingly aware that they could not get in. Nonetheless, with the dead gone, there laid a choice before the students. What were they to do now?

Their only exit was now blocked off, as the windows in the school were sealed shut.

---

[mickilennial]

Rosemary Fitzgerald stood against a nearby wall, her arms crossed as she started to unpack everything that had happened since.. the incident.

Before everyone started getting sick and the school went into lockdown, Fitz had remained at the top of the ladder. Between her status as the Captain of the Softball Team and the Head Cheerleader, she honestly kept herself pretty busy. Most people didn’t even understand how she could simultaneously do both and on top of that maintain her social cliques. What made everything worse was that Fitz had planned for a class trip to Aspen that she had figured out and financed through some, well, dubious methods. After that, she was ready for college so she could prepare for her future as not just a high school athlete but a university-level one. But sitting in an auditorium with a disease crisis lingering outside ruined all that. It made it worse when the disease crisis turned into a horror movie crisis.

After surviving the auditorium, Fitz and a handful of other students grouped up in the chaos before they boarded up in the first room they could find. That was fifteen minutes ago. It had been eerily quiet.

She wasn't sure how long they could even survive in a room with locked windows and low amounts of food.

It was only a matter of time before everyone got too hot, too scared, or too hungry to function. Worst of all things, nobody's phone could get a signal from the damn room, so it was a little difficult to get outside help; not that there was much help to be found after being boarded up in the school for as long as they were. However, despite the circumstances, Fitz tried to remain the same as ever--irreverent, fearless, and alpha. Maybe her appearing to not lose her shit could inspire the rest to do the same. It was all she was useful for right now, as far as she could tell.

“So, what’s the plan?” She commented as she slid her notebook into her messenger bag.

It was a weird question to make given the circumstances.

Fitz wasn’t stupid, but striking out after locking the door behind them wasn’t exactly her gameplan. She just wanted to skip the part of the conversation that included the typical “oh my god what’s going on” phase. They were trapped in a school filled with infected teens and adults who were ready to attack them at a moments notice. They need an escape plan... or a plan in general.

Her eyes glanced toward the windows of the room they were in and imagined someone thinking they could escape by breaking through them.

It was a thought that made her remember Principal Nielsen bragging about the upgrades the school had undergone two summers ago. It had something to do with the school shooting epidemic and how private benefactors had stepped in to help Stockbridge move forward into the future. Though, in reality, it was probably a tax break or a silver-lining in it for Principal Nielsen. All he cared about was his bank account as far as Fitz could tell. Which, in their current situation, made their lives a lot harder from the kids in less financially secure school districts. It all made Fitz wish she had gone to school at Darwin High instead, which she was sure didn't have fancy glass or magnetic locks. It wasn't a good look however she tried to look at it.

But at least there was the silver lining in that there were a lot of people who made it out. She didn't know all of them, but there was just enough that maybe, just maybe, they could survive and not have what happened to one of their teachers happen to them?

[Mao Mao]

---

𝗝𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗞𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗽

---

^{Teacher's Lounge // Stockbridge Academy}

Jaden Knapp was the last student to enter the teacher's lounge with a crowd of classmates behind them. They were close to the incident where the PE teacher was attacked and murdered by a student. Several students nearby, including Jaden, watched as the small freshman managed to overpower Mr. Roberts in a matter of seconds. Another teacher, Mr. Stewart, called out for help while getting the students to safety. He was standing near Jaden when he was also attacked by the same student. They were accidentally shoved to the ground, hitting their head on the gym floor. A student yelled out zombie, and panic ensued. Everything else that happened afterward was a blur to Jaden.

One of their friends, Maisie Brown, helped them up and tried to escort them out of the gym. But she was overwhelmed by the stampede. Jaden tried to look for her, but the frightened crowd made finding her impossible. Her scream of agony was the last thing they heard. Things became more evident once they found themself in the hallway. Almost everyone had the same plan: get the fuck outside and leave. They were going to do the same thing until the entrance became too crowded. And with a group of inflected behind them, Jaden decided to run in a random direction.

Thankfully, they saw some classmates entering the teacher's lounge. And the rest was history.

The first few minutes were spent treating the bump on their head. But the images of Stewart and Roberts being murdered were already too much. Their best friend's death scream. And the fact that the entire school became a death trap was enough to break someone. And that was what happened. Jaden went to the corner, sat down and hugged their legs, and started to quietly sob. That was how they spent thirteen minutes, trying to process everything. Then they heard Fitz asking if someone had a plan. A plan on getting out of this room.

That was when Jaden remembered the SUV that they brought after getting their driver's license. They finally got up from the ground and headed towards the sink for some water. They needed some water badly. After taking a few long sips and turning off the faucet, Jaden turned towards Fitz and got her attention. "I-I still have keys to my SUV. It's just in the parking lot, we can get out of... But wait, it can only fit six people, including me. There... are too many people here. And the main entrance was too crowded for me to leave..."

Jaden leaned against the counter and realized that they were indeed stuck in this small room with ten other people. They looked around and chuckled as they started to cry again. "We're fucked, aren't we?"

---

[Carlyle]

ᴋ ᴀ ʏ ʟ ᴇ ᴇ ᴊ ᴇ ɴ ɴ ɪ ɴ ɢ ꜱ

---

_{Location: Teacher's Lounge, Stockbridge Academy}

Date: March 6th, 2019

---

Although her survival instinct had been quick to react, tossing metal chairs and whatever else she could find in a panic, Kaylee was still riding the adrenaline high. Her eyes were glued to her hands, visibly shaking and covered in blood—blood that was not hers. Kaylee had seen the occasional zombie flick in the past, yet seeing such carnage in person went further than any sort of cheesy gore effects. Every second her thoughts flickered back to the auditorium; thoughts filled with visions of her friends and teachers' flesh violently ripped from their bodies, not unlike a dog being perhaps too playful with a chew toy.

Kaylee wanted to scream and cry, but instead bit her lip and tried to calm herself down. She wasn't the confident type like Fitz, and what they had all just witnessed was very likely something they would never fully recover from, but the softball star needed to keep her head on straight no matter how impossible it was right now. Even if she had to suffer in silence, Kaylee hated the thought of being a traumatized burden despite the rest likely being in the same place as she was.

She had to be at her best, even if this was all so fucked up. Giving something her all until she literally dropped was what Kaylee was known for, otherwise she wouldn't have been bedridden with a fever days earlier.

"Fuck," Kaylee muttered, letting loose a rare swear. She looked up at the others in the room, finally getting a look at those that took shelter in the teacher's lounge. To her surprise, there had been a few faces Kaylee knew, one in particular being Fitz, the softball captain, herself. While Fitz and Kaylee weren't exactly the best of best friends, and the others were a mix of acquaintances and friends she occasionally hung out with, the knowledge that some people she personally knew had made it out alive would certainly help her teeter back away from being on the verge of a panic attack.

"Plan?" Kaylee replied, looking at Fitz. "I doubt anyone has anything in mind other than getting out of here." She continued, echoing what Jaden had said moments earlier. "I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to, but how many of us have any idea on what the hell is going on, other than everyone turning into cannibal freaks? None of us know what's waiting for us out there, Fitz. No matter what we decide on, we'll have to risk it, but, I don't know, shouldn't we at least take a moment to get our bearings and let people calm down before possibly rushing headfirst to our deaths?"

Knowing Fitz, Kaylee was certain that her fellow teammate was likely to have issue with being contested in front of others, but not unlike softball, everyone needed to have their head in the game here. If she had an issue with it, then, Kaylee thought, she'd have to suck it up for the time being.

---

@Inkarnate@Mao Mao

[Kautalya]

---

---

Elvina Feliz

_{Location: Teacher's Lounge: Stockbridge High}

---

Spouts of memories flashed through her mind like a broken faucet but the only person she focused on was her mother. The young woman grabbed the small hands of the child, both prancing around in the tight living room--dancing along to a soft tune. The bright warmth of sunlight in springtime, streaming through a window, warmed up a patch on the carpet. Elvina's young self placed her tiny feet on top of her mother's, their sizes a clear juxtaposition between the two. Her hands clasped tightly together with the woman, the two wearing a big smile on their cheeks. Every bit of her mother ravished Elvina's imagination, titillating thoughts of her features--deconstructing the qualities that Elvina didn't even realize she remembered.

(For the first time in her life, Elvina missed the idea of a mother's warmth)

She blinked, her eyelids dragging down with weariness until she reopened her eyes once more with more force. Her gaze motioned down towards her feet; her legs hugging her chest. Her head groggily shifted upwards, staring at the crowd of students. Faces she'd see here and there, passing her swiftly in the hallways. They were nothing special to her. Her eyes slanted downwards as she focused on her bruised knees. The purple material that hugged her body, a tinny dress with white flower prints, was no longer pristine and crisp. Stains she couldn't even begin to fathom how to remove littered her dress and the denim jacket she so carefully chose to accent her dress (with a vibrant purple fur puff coating the top part), vibrantly echoed it's significance to those who flashed their attention on Elvina. Her stare, having returned to her knees, dug itself into the red growing color; the short image of Elvina falling under the stampede of students replayed itself in a sick marathon.

With her copper against honey and sage orbs edged their stare deeper at the bruises--Elvina scrunched up her face in frustration, casting aside her thoughts and focusing on her present situation. All she needed to do was not get herself killed. She watched everyone barricade themselves in and others jittering around in worry. A student crying in a corner and the other, presenting a question to all.

A plan.

That might've been a good idea if someone had spoken about a full blown scheme of how to get out. She scoffed and clicked her teeth under her breath. Then the SUV was mentioned. And then the lack of space. Immediately, Elvina's inner mind workers (literally like that spongebob episode) began planning how she could possibly become one of those six people. She straightened her posture, her whole persona changed completely, but before she could speak someone else beat her to the punch.

"Huh?!" Without missing a beat, Elvina responded.

"Waiting here is just going to increase our fucking chances of dying." She crossed her arms, "We're sitting ducks while waiting for these idiots to get their shit together."

She needed to get home to her aunt fast and if nobody was planning on leaving any time soon, Elvina would just have to leave herself. The girl's thumb rose to her lip, absentmindedly stroking her lower lip.

[CaliforniaState]

Location: Teacher's Lounge -- Group Discussion

---

par·a·site | an organism living in, with, or on another organism in parasitism.

This was the only word that stuck out in the echoes of his mind. It wasn’t the first time he had seen or heard of such a phenomenon occurring, especially not in the insect kingdom. Parasites were rampant in not just insects but all creatures ranging in size and species. Maybe it was just god’s way…no…maybe it was just the universes way of keeping the balance of the world, ensuring that entropy was keeping order. Now there were several kinds of parasites, ones like horsehair worms that lived in grasshoppers or praying mantis’ or the infamous zombie parasite. One in which spores released from a fungus end up attaching themselves to ants, penetrative the exoskeleton and effectively mind controlling the ant. A process that forces the ant to wait for its death while the fungus takes over. Yeah that was more plausible and closer to what was happening now.

Having survived all of high school, it was Xan’s last year as not just a student at Stockbridge High, but as a senior too. No doubt the gravity of selecting a university and sealing his fate for another four years was looming over him with what only felt like a few months of release during the summer. SAT and ACT prep was being shoveled down his throat; not to mention the impending prom event his parents were forcing him to go to. Who would he even ask? It’s not like he was Varsity team captain of any team or Homecoming king. Thankfully though, all that took a back seat when news started to pour in by the masses of people falling violently ill. At first Xan thought nothing more of it than a one-off coincidence just like when Florida man was high on bath salts and ate that other guys face off. It wasn’t until stories started to mirror each other so perfectly that he himself began to buy into the hype.

First the fire alarms went out, then the PA system started spewing telegraphed safety messages, preemptively prepared by the superintendent in attempts to keep students calm. Definitely accomplished the opposite when chaos erupted in the halls and the school was put on lockdown. Xan was kind of lost looking off into space trying to grasp the situation. Never had he been in such a precarious position as the one he was facing right now, hell he had been home schooled for more than half of his lie. The most he had to worry about was not burning his grilled cheese while raiding in World of Warcraft. Luckily for him he was sucked back into the real world when some student nearly took him out running from what sounded like one pissed off zombie. Activating his flight or fight response he chose the former looking around for any and all escape routes. His eyes found no exit, instead perhaps something better in the form of Rosemary Fitzgerald.

She seemed cold and calculating enough to know what’s what. That coupled with her being on the softball team meant she knew how to use a blunt force weapon despite being vertically challenged. Rubber screeched against the floor after Xan floored it to the teachers’ lounge behind Rosemary. He was one of twelve kids who made it inside before they decided to board all the exits and entrances heavily. Taking deep breathes he looked around recognizing almost all their faces, just not their names. Rosemary’s suggestion of a plan was brilliant in that it began to unite the twelve in the room together with hopes of surviving in the allotted time they had left. Someone mentioned a car while Kaylee asked if anyone knew what was going on. Elvina on the other hand vocally displayed her dislike of that idea. Sheepishly, Xan raised his hand in attempts to catch someone’s attention. “I…uhh..I’m not sure if this counts, but I think I know what’s going on. Or at least I’ve seen it happen before just not in humans…” he knew just how futile his efforts were and how stupid he must have sounded. “Anyways maybe we should see what everyone has on them that we can use to get out of here.” Whatever they decided, Xan just wanted to survive.

[mickilennial]

Fitz wasn't stupid, she knew what running back into the halls wasn't safe. However, she didn't want to sit on her thumbs for hours on end, either.

The blonde rolled her eyes. The mere suggestion that she wanted to rush out without everyone catching their nerves was ridiculous. Making a plan was smart. She was not suggesting making a quick plan and trying to bolt out of the school. She had talked with Principal Neilsen enough to know, at least to some extent, what Stockbridge had in case of a lockdown. But as she had said many times before, Kaylee lacked perception when it didn’t come to sports. Fitz didn't want to split up the group too much at the moment, she wanted a gameplan instead of having her classmates crying in a corner for an hour or worse.

“I don’t give a shit what the hell is going on.” She crossed her arms as she pressed her foot against the opposing wall behind her, “In times of a crisis you need to come up with a plan. Rushing is the exact opposite thing of that. How long do you want to wait in here, Kay? Twenty minutes? Forty?”

As she finished her retort she began to look over the supplies she had on-hand. Xan, as weird as he was, was right that they should look what they had in their binders and backpacks. Fitz had her notebook in her binder with her student planner, but other than that she didn’t really have anything useful. She didn't exactly need a 12th Grade Literature textbook or some of her finished coursework, so she probably could get rid of them from her bag. Beyond that, just her phone, wallet, and keys. She looked over some of the other kids as she put the book and planner on top of one of the tables.

She sighed, at least they had pooled themselves in a Teacher's Lounge. Assuming there was some food left, they could figure out that much.

[Bartimaeus]

Cash Kattner

_{Location: Stockbridge Academy, Teacher's lounge.
March 6th, 2019.}

---

---

Cash let out a shuddering breath as his back leaned heavily against the interior wall of what used to be the teacher's lounge. He stared at the floor, an incredulous expression plastered on his face.

"What...the fuck.." he whispered to himself.

What he'd just witnessed was something you could only describe as a horror scene.

He closed his eyes, his furrowed brow a sign of his obvious perturbation as he tried to block out the image of people getting - mangled. He clenched his fists, trying to stop them from shaking as the adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream.

A few days ago, they'd been informed by the school faculty that some sort of "outbreak" was underway. They were ushered to the gymnasium, where the bulk of the school's attendants gathered, muttering amongst themselves about what could possibly be going on outside. After a couple days of being holed up in the gym - which was not a comfortable place to spend a night, not that it matters - they would finally know. Before anybody could realize they were in danger, a kid took a chunk out of Mr. Roberts' neck - causing all hell to break lose as the latter proceeded to follow suit upon the other residents of the gym.

The ensuing scramble was well-warranted, as more and more students seemingly grew ravenously hungry for the flesh of those around them - only after having fallen prey themselves.

Within the scatter, a handful of students managed to find temporary shelter in one of the teacher's lounges - which was where Cash stood now. Cash, among others, had hurriedly thrown anything they could lift against the door as their ravenous colleagues slammed against it.

Their mental reprieve only beginning some time later, when the slamming eventually stopped.

Cash let his hands relax, allowing a short sigh of air to escape his lips as he tried to even his breathing.

This shit is insane...it's - it's like a fuckin' horror flick- he thought.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head a bit as he heard the voices of his fellow students. Initiative was good - and a plan, just as. They could maybe afford to gather themselves for a bit longer, but a plan was necessary regardless. Cash drew his phone from his back pocket, checking for any messages. No bars. His next pocket was just his bike's key fob, and the next was some loose cash. Not useful stuff at the moment. His backpack contents likely weren't of much help either - pens and notebooks, mostly. A pair of scissors, maybe.

He looked around at the others in the room - counting twelve. He didn't know any of them, really - but that's to be expected considering he didn't care to know before this year. At most, a couple might be acquaintances he met in class. He would bet there were a good deal more than twelve of those...enraged students shambling around the school. He wasn't sure exactly how they planned to escape this situation.

He would like to think this whole thing was some stupid joke - but he knew it wasn't. The blood was real. The fear - of all those students and staff - was real.

It's real easy to think "the apocalypse would totally be fun!" when kids aren't getting their throats ripped out in front of your eyes - feet away. When you can't hear the blood-curdling scream of some chick you sat next to through an entire course as she gets tackled by a fucking mangled cannibal - who sat on your other fucking side throughout the same course-

Cash ran his now less-shaky hand up his face, brushing a few locks out of his vision as he interrupted his own thoughts- Get it together!

It doesn't matter who's dead - what matters is who's alive.

His back left the wall, and he took a half-step forward. "Right." he mumbled to himself, "Anyone hurt? Like, not-psychologically?" he asked aloud to nobody in particular - ignoring the two that were bickering - while scanning faces throughout the room.

[Darcs]

---

^{Location: Stockbridge Academy, Teacher’s Lounge}

^{Date: 3/6/19}

^{With: Everyone}

---

Colmillo supposed being a slacker sometimes had its perks.

The lesson in Ms. Stevens' English class had been about... halfway through? She wasn't really sure, actually. Whatever book the class was discussing didn't particularly interest her, so she'd been sleeping in the back. This wasn't irregular for the girl-- Ms. Stevens' class was probably her favorite of this year, in fact-- but, books were long and boring, there were better ways to convey ideas and feelings to people. And Ms. Stevens, to her credit, was aware of this attitude-- she actually let Colmillo sleep through lessons like this undisturbed. Colmillo wasn't sure why; the woman was always encouraging whenever she lit up during certain lessons though, outside of class proper she'd tried to get her to see the guidance counselor, and was always allowing her extra time for assignments and giving her extra credit assignments that she seemed to just know would interest her-- all so she could at least maintain her 'C.' So it definitely wasn't that she just didn't care-- quite the opposite in fact. Most other teachers Colmillo had would just violently jolt her awake, yelling something they thought clever at her, often provoking some kind of response from the rest of the class. Ms. Stevens was just, really nice and sweet.

Colmillo hoped she was still alive.

So, the announcement had been made at some point during her nap and Colmillo didn't catch any of it. By the time the girl was being gently nudged awake by her teacher, the classroom was already completely empty-- everyone already well on their way to the auditorium. Ms. Stevens slowly explained, as Colmillo roused, what was happening-- a disease, or an outbreak, everyone needed to head to the auditorium-- the woman let Colmillo process things on her own time. When Colmillo asked why you'd want to gather everyone in such close proximity if the sickness or whatever was really such a big threat, Ms. Stevens let out a light chuckle. She was pretty when she laughed-- well, prettier, Colmillo supposed. The woman quickly added that they'd walk to the auditorium together, so Colmillo gathered her things and off the pair went.

Of course Colmillo would be late to something like this, Ms. Stevens joked, she'd probably be late to her own funeral if she could!

By the time they got there, pretty much every seat was taken, the principal or whoever was already speaking about... something. Cliques and friend groups were clustered together, with underclassmen getting a lot of the more undesirable real estate up front. Seats not taken by students seemed to filled in by some of the older faculty members. Silence swept over the crowd. Colmillo had scanned the room, hoping she could just hide behind Gerald and Ashley until this was over-- but Ms. Stevens put a protective arm around the girl's shoulder as the speaking continued, Colmillo's eyes went wide, but she didn't let herself shake under the terrible sensation of being touched by another person. Colmillo wasn't paying terribly close attention, but it really seemed to spook Ms. Stevens. Colmillo figured the woman needed someone to hold onto, or maybe just feel like she was protecting something-- if her being there could help the woman in some way, she'd certainly stand and be held. So, the two stayed in the back, close to where they had come in from.

Colmillo really hoped that woman was still alive. She'd saved her worthless life.

Days later-- after spending most of her time talking with, or really mostly listening, to Ms. Stevens-- the yell came. Colmillo had been napping at the time, it was pretty easy for her to fall asleep anywhere, but she hated yelling-- and quickly one panicked scream led to another. Soon enough people were standing, tripping over each other each other to get away from groans that grew louder by the second. Colmillo, expressionless, looked up at the terrified face her teacher wore, the woman who had stayed by her side, watching over her as she slept for days-- she'd mentioned to Colmillo in the lead up to this that she had a bad feeling, that they needed to be ready. Something bad was definitely happening and as Colmillo processed her teacher's prophecy finally coming to fruition, her heart began to rise in her throat, warming her body-- she needed to do something, but she didn't know what.

She spent time enough looking over the crowd for her step-siblings that students got wise and began to escape through whatever means they could. Ms. Stevens snapped out of her shock, clasping Colmillo's hands in hers, she turned the girl away from the crowd and looked into her eyes-- she told the sophomore to leave through the door they came in through before it became too clogged with other students with the same idea, to find somewhere quiet and hide. Before Colmillo could protest, that she had to get her step-siblings out of this mess-- an angry hand appeared from the crowd, gripping her braid, undoing her mother's handiwork from the days before with undead fury. Ms. Stevens, acting on instinct and adrenaline, kicked the zombified student away from the girl and practically threw her out the door, into the hallway. As far as she could tell-- she was one of the first out, in this particular hallway at least-- as she gazed back Ms. Stevens told her she'd stay behind and help some others get out, but that she'd find her later. Her last words to Colmillo were to 'run like hell.'

Colmillo definitely walked away from the mess with a bit of a pep in her step.

She wandered the halls like this for a time, second? minutes? Her thoughts began to race, as they often did when... well, anything happened. She knew she needed to do something, hide, but she couldn't figure out where. People quickly began pooling into the halls behind her, running away from the... zombies. They were fucking zombies. She'd been trying to kill herself for years, and this was what was going to get her? How stupid. Appropriate perhaps, for a girl as stupid as her. Lost in her thoughts, she was pushed and fell to the floor as people ran past, screaming, not sure of what to do. Students around her were acting on what mostly seemed like adrenaline. Making it easy to run, but harder to think things through. Colmillo wasn't sure she had adrenaline-- even before she had started seeing dead bodies every time she closed her eyes-- it felt like a reflex she was just born without. Usually when something bad happened she just froze and tried to think of a way to smooth things over. But there didn't seem to be any smoothing this over, she thought as she began to crawl, not then-- not for everyone having to suffer through this. She just wanted to help, if she had a quiet place to hide she could think this through...

Looking up, the downcast girl noticed the knob of the teacher's lounge, door slightly ajar.

Huh.

And she was alive-- mostly-- due to sleeping in class and a sweet teacher who had kept her close. She watched silently as people came in-- all school mates she didn't recognize, save for maybe a face or two? She knew they didn't recognize her, though it seemed after what they'd seen in the auditorium most of them couldn't recognize anything, so many were trembling. Still, they were a proactive bunch, once the room reached max capacity, they began to barricade the doors. A student even took the chair she'd been sitting in to barricade against the door. She'd slumped against the wall after that, eventually falling to the floor, sitting with her legs crossed as her new companions worked, or panicked.

Then they waited.

As they did, Colmillo rested her head against her hand and occasionally got a look at the people around her, when she wasn't gazing at the ground. She probably looked bored-- she wasn't. While she didn't quite feel adrenaline, she did feel fear. A lot of it. All the time. Every day. Every second for the past half decade. When she glanced up, seeing the tears and shakes and desperate attempts to make calls, she could tell they were feeling it too. She wanted to comfort some of them, to tell them that they'd get used to this feeling, that if they all kept calm they could figure something out. Even as she thought it, it kind of felt like a lie-- it was entirely possible that they were all going to die here. They were, technically, in a worse situation than the auditorium after all-- they were packed in an even smaller room, they didn't know how the sickness worked, so if anyone had it-- they'd just die in here even faster than the carnage she'd barely gotten to witness. She kept this to herself, it definitely wouldn't help anyone to hear that, and if she'd figured it out then all of them definitely had.

She wondered if her family was okay? Colmillo figured they were definitely fine. After all, if her dumb ass could last this long, then they were invincible. Still, Gerald and Ashley gnawed at her... And Osiris was...

Someone spoke, breaking the long silence. Plan? Colmillo glanced briefly at the woman, not recognizing her at all. She blushed as she looked back down. A plan would be nice, it really would. But what did they have to work with? WiFi was down, so there was no hope of getting any news, their phones didn't seem to work in this room for some reason. So they couldn't gather anything about this illness, how to cure it, how it spread-- aside from the obvious way. So what information did they have to build a plan off of? The zombies seemed to have short enough attention spans, they left the lounge alone after a few minutes of silence, and Colmillo had gathered they retained at least some of their senses-- when she was on the floor they could have easily gone for her, but they seemed to prefer louder targets. Her experience in the auditorium taught her they'd also go after still targets, even if they were relatively quiet compared to other targets. Move silently and quickly? That was something, but it wasn't really a plan. Everyone had probably already gathered that much, anyway.

A boy spoke up from the corner, one of the people she'd seen crying that she wanted to comfort in some way. He said that he had a car and immediately Colmillo's anxiety spiked. Was that really the best idea right now? She thought it sounded terrible, but remained silent. Adrenaline high teenagers who had recently experienced a traumatic event probably shouldn't be driving-- especially if this was going on everywhere? All those panicked drivers... Well, they couldn't know that this was happening anywhere outside of the school... but she felt they could reasonably assume something was going on outside of the school, she thought. Someone would have been sent for them otherwise-- in fact, there was no way everyone's parents would just accept that their sons and daughters would be spending several days in Stockbridge's auditorium.

Either they hadn't been informed and were having a hard time getting getting to the school to find out what was keeping their children, or they had and... what? Everyone's parents had just accepted it? None of them had tried to pick up their kids from school? The more she thought about it, the more she felt confident that something much worse was outside the school. It couldn't even fit all of them, anyway. And Colmillo knew that they should definitely stay together... the more people thinking on a way to get out of this together the better. But knowing that the main entrance was crowded was useful-- they'd need to move quickly and quietly to some side exit or something.

"We're fucked, aren't we?" He said. Colmillo looked back at the ground. Of course he'd figured this all out already. Everyone in the room probably knew all this. She was struggling just to catch up. Why was she even trying to help? They've already figured out all she had-- definitely even more-- nothing she could add to this conversation would be worth anything. She scolded herself internally.

Another girl spoke after the boy with the car, one who knew the first girl, apparently. "I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to, but how many of us have any idea on what the hell is going on, other than everyone turning into cannibal freaks?"

Zombies. She mentally corrected.

"None of us know what's waiting for us out there, Fitz."

Something bad enough to have kept away everyone's parents for the past few days, Colmillo thought. Fitz was the blonde's name, she noted.

The brunette girl continued to speak, "No matter what we decide on, we'll have to risk it, but, I don't know, shouldn't we at least take a moment to get our bearings and let people calm down before possibly rushing headfirst to our deaths?"

YES. Colmillo agreed with this girl. Everyone was still freshly traumatized, they would only be able think of so many things in their current state-- if they took some time to let themselves decompress, let their instincts that had driven them here die down so they can all use their brains again, they'd definitely be able to come up with a better plan. Colmillo, despite herself, almost voiced her support of the brunette's idea-- but she couldn't get a peep out before a much louder voice chimed in.

"Huh?!" Another girl-- pretty, Colmillo noted-- immediately voiced, loudly.

Loud noises. Ahh. Colmillo shrunk against the wall as she spoke, glancing nervously at the window above her to see if the zombies outside had heard her. Her eyes returned to the floor as the pretty girl explained her reasoning. They'd be 'sitting ducks' anywhere though, wouldn't they? If things outside were as bad as they were in the school, they at least knew they were safe from the outside threat in here. And there was running water-- that was really good, right? If they capitalized on that while it was still running and divided it nicely, they could last... a while in here, right? Colmillo wondered if there were any containers they could hold water in, in here...

Then a brunette boy spoke. Mentioning that he'd seen this before. Like Zombieism? Like, he'd seen it outside of fiction? Colmillo didn't really watch much TV besides a few cartoons, so she wasn't terribly informed on zombie media, but she knew enough to recognize that that's what these were. She didn't know that they happened in real life! She wondered if he had any more information-- like, if zombieism or whatever happened in other animals and it could be reversed, then maybe they could save some people? Colmillo shook her head internally. This kid might be smart-- but there definitely had to be other people who had tried to fix it. She was being stupid again.

“I don’t give a shit what the hell is going on.” Fitz said, practically shooting daggers at the brunette-- Kay.

Fitz seemed... kind of scary? No, that was unfair-- she was dealing with stress like everyone here. Colmillo was just worried about her way of handling it-- she seemed to be lashing out at Kay. And further still, how could she not care about what's going on? What's going on seemed like a pretty unpleasant death by zombie-- or people panicking. Colmillo knew well how dangerous panicked people could be. As much as she had fantasized about her own death, she didn't want to become something that would hurt other people. That sounded terrible! Staying here for as long as it took for the initial shock to subside and to take stock of what they had, like the boy mentioned, and come up with a surefire way to keep everyone safe once they did leave should be the plan. As long as it took.

Oh god... Colmillo had to say something, didn't she...?

She felt her stomach knot up as another person spoke up-- one of the two black boys who had made it out, he looked a fair bit older than the other. He mentioned something rather sensible, Colmillo wondered if he had medical training, since he was asking about injuries. He might have even been in the pre-med club. Maybe he knew Ashley? Or maybe he was just asking because he was worried someone might... become a zombie? Colmillo felt a little bruised from when she was knocked to the floor earlier, especially her left arm-- but she didn't want to waste his time with something a benign as that, she was fine.

She looked back to Fitz, who appeared to be calmer, as she placed the things she had on the table. Calm was good. People arguing usually didn't lead to anything productive, and definitely induced more anxiety in the girl. If Fitz could accept that they'd need to spend enough time here for everyone to at least somewhat process what was going on without an argument, that'd be for the best, she thought. For Colmillo's part, the tall, slender girl got up wordlessly, silently agreeing with the brown haired boy's suggestion and following Fitz's lead, placed her thermos on the table-- it may have been useful as a blunt object, she supposed? Though, she really hoped it didn't come to that, with people who could potentially be cured-- next to her thermos she dumped the entire contents of her messenger bag on the table without thinking-- this was a mistake.

Out fell more useless batteries and crumpled up pieces of paper than she cared to mention, most rolled uselessly onto the floor of the lounge. Great job! You've only made everything in here worse. The few things she had on her that weren't literal garbage weren't of much use either. A single composition notebook filled with her chicken scratch, a couple of pens and pencils chewed on to hell and back, a beat-up but still functional walkman disc player, one of the last things she had of her father, some CDs, still in their cases (Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version, The Steven Universe Movie Soundtrack, A Fleetwood Mac Compilation Album, The Adventure Time Soundtrack, and The Mouse & The Mask), her earbuds, her phone (which she had turned off days ago, after a few failed attempts at calling her mother) and some chapstick. Looking at her pile of useless junk made her want to die, this only increased as she felt the weight of the glances of the others in the room bore into her like drills. For a moment, she seriously considered just snapping a CD in half and slitting her throat, then and there. But... she really liked those CDs, at least. And there was the whole question of 'if she died would she come back?' She didn't want to inconvenience anyone. Ugh.

Colmillo decided then and there that she'd just be mute around these people. At least they wouldn't bother her as much if they thought she was non-verbal, right? As she continued staring at her pile, she glanced over to Fitz's-- noting that there really wasn't much useful there either, just better organized than her own mess. This alleviated her stress a little-- but only a little. Colmillo also figured that their phones could still have some use, as her eyes flicked between her own and the blonde's. If the zombies were stupid-- and attracted to any noise... then they could maybe set off alarms on their phones? If they could leave the room without being seen, or maybe even just slide the phones down the hall...? And the phone with an alarm set was far enough away-- maybe it would draw some of them away? She narrowed her eyes at the phones, she knew she'd be willing to sacrifice hers for the experiment, she was never particularly attached to the thing, it was really just a device for calling her Mother and looking at memes. Turning slightly, she looked at the barrier the other students had made...

She couldn't just... start taking it down for the sake of some curiosity. She doubted she even had the strength to, and anyway...

It was a stupid idea.

With that, Colmillo let out a yawn. She wanted to go back to sleep, but she was up now. She figured may as well do something useful. So she moved over to the sink and began looking through the cabinets, and whatever other nooks or crannies the room held. Looking for anything useful or something that could hold water-- she was worried it could be turned off at any second. Apparently more worried about that than how many strange looks she was sure she was getting.

---

[alexfangtalon]

---

Alex

Location: Teacher's Lounge, Stockbridge Academy

Interaction: Everyone

Date: March 6th, 2019

---

Stupid. Moron. I should've kept a closer eye on her. Alex was standing at the window watching some of the zeds shambling about. Most of them were probably inside by now. He was watching to see if anyone living had made it out. So far, he hadn't seen a single living person outside of this window. He had been watching for a specific person in general. His younger sister, Sadie. Ever since the students had been crowded into the auditorium the two had stuck nearby. The one time they separate, her going to sit with some of her friends, and him going to comfort some of the younger members of the drama club. That's about when chaos erupted.

Alex hadn't been near the first source of panic but soon the entire room was thrust into the depths of terror. Alex's first thought was run but when he saw what the loud scream had called zombies he knew he needed to find Sadie. He tried to calm himself but he just ran around avoiding the biters as best he could until he nearly got chomped. Alex wasn't looking where he was going and nearly ran into the clutches of one of the undead when someone just a little faster than him doing the exact same thing he was ended up barreling between the two knocking them both to the ground. Alex looked forward seeing someone attempt to run over the creature only to be grabbed and instantly have their ankle bit into. With this happening before his eyes all thoughts were gone. It was down to fight or flight at this point and flight took control of Alex's body.

He quickly got to his feet and began running along with the majority of the crowd. The rest is somewhat a blur. Alex doesn't even remember exactly how he got into the teacher's lounge. Maybe he saw a familiar face and rushed in behind them. Taking a look around the room he did know a few of the them. Watching out the window was getting him nowhere. He pulled out his phone again to see that he still had no signal. Alex rested his head against the window. He couldn't stay cooped up in here hoping everything was gonna be alright. He had to do something.

It seemed as if a few of the others had come to this conclusion as well. There was a discussion going on in regards to what needed to be done. While Alex agreed with those desiring to leave this room soon, he didn't believe driving off would be a good idea just yet. In reality, it was more like he just didn't want to leave yet. He had to find his sister. The top priority for him, and either way if they could somehow lock out the zeds or keep them confined somewhere the school might have some good supplies on hand. In every apocalypse media, food and water were hard resources to come by. Maybe if they could get to the cafeteria something good would come of that.

But right now none of that could be accomplished if they stayed in this room freaking out and arguing. Someone had to step up. Okay. What's the best way to raise confidence in people? Give them an easy to execute task and praise them when they succeed. Also, being cool, calm, collected, and commanding may help. Alright, Alex. Just think of this as improv class. Don't break character. Don't hesitate. Just do it.

Alex took a few deep breaths trying to clear his mind as best he could. He needed to shove down his own fear if anything was gonna get done. Turning around he looked at the people gathered in the room with him. He spoke up loud enough that they couldn't really ignore him but tried to keep from being too loud that something outside the room might hear. "If a plan is what we need then let's make one. If we stay in this room we will run out of food eventually so the sooner we fix that the better. I'm going to go ahead and give my vote against leaving campus by vehicle first. I feel more things are important. Like what that kid yelled, if this really is a freaking 'zombie' outbreak, I can't believe I'm saying that, but if it is we have three priorities. One is food and water. Two is some way to protect ourselves. Three is a safe place to hide. All of those could potentially be solved on this campus. We can find food and water in the cafeteria. We can find improvised weapons all over the place. There also might just be a safer room in this place than this tiny thing. We can't find anything if we stay cooped up in this room though. Does anyone have anything that we could protect ourselves with? If anything we could break the legs off of that table and use them."

Once he finished he started breathing a little more rapidly. That sounded good, right? Even if it wasn't really a plan, which it wasn't, having people shift their minds to thinking about that stuff may get their minds off the fact that leaving this room could spell imminent doom. As long as someone could come up with a goal-based off of the painfully obvious information he had stated then that was one step closer to getting in a safer situation. Alex's mind was running 100 yards in 9.58 seconds trying to find a solution to their plight. Please let there be someone here who knows what to do.

[DystopyanKing]

Anthony Morillo

---

Teacher's Lounge ~ Stockbridge
Interacting with: Everyone

---

Anthony fumbled with his backpack with numb hands and fruitlessly took in a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. He brought his shaking hands to his lap and stared at the protein bar that lay in his grasp. Though his classmates were spread out around the room, Tony's focus seemed to be directed into empty space. As far as he mind was concerned, Tony was still in that auditorium, replaying the scene that unfolded over and over again like a broken movie projector.

There's something profoundly horrifying about watching the rules of reality rewrite themselves in front of one's own eyes. For his whole life, humans had decided that cannibalism was disgusting, immoral, and taboo. Then, in mere seconds, Tony watched a freshman boy take a teacher's life by munching on his coratid artery. Tony had been sitting relatively close to the incident, so when mass hysteria hit the auditorium, he was right in the thick of it. The metallic smell of iron hung in the air as Mr. Roberts' gurgled his last breath, Tony remembered it was the smell that spurred him to action. He was running before he even realized his body had reacted, though he was painfully aware of his shoes sliding in Mr. Robert's blood. After stumbling slightly, Tony regained his balance and made a desperate dash to get away from the nightmare happening around him. He imagined Bobby's sausage fingers grasping for purchase on the back of his shirt and used that fear to get out of dodge. By the time he made it out of the auditorium, he found himself with a group of students and made it his goal to not get seperated from them. He figured in all the madness there would be strength in numbers.

Now he was barricaded into a room with a few familiar faces and a health dose of dread. Outside lay a horrific and quick death, and inside was the possibility of starvation over a much longer period. It was the thought of hunger that brought the protein bar to Tony's lips, he seemed to be running on autopilot. Food was a valuable resource, but he doubted there was enough to go around equally, and they were going to need all their strength and stamina if they wanted to survive... Whatever this was. While they had taken care of the immediate threat, it didn't seem like the sick people were going to leave any time soon. Fuck, was there any line of thinking that didn't lead to his inevitable death?

Hey motherfucker, snap out of it! What're you gonna do, just roll over and die? You're not dead already, maybe that's a sign.

Tony sniffed and crumbled up the empty wrapper in his hand before throwing it back into his bag. His hands had stopped shaking, and his eyes lacked the glaze look of shock anymore, the only thing on his mind was surviving today and living to see tomorrow's sunrise, he could worry about everything else later. Making sure to grab his backpack, Tony shifted closer to the group so that his voice would be heard amongst the others. There was a lot of talk about plans without any plan actually being made. Tony didn't have a plan yet either, so he couldn't really complain, but it was time he spoke up. "How can we make a plan if we don't even know what we're up against? I mean, they said there was an outbreak of some kind and now people are fucking eating other people. What if we already caught the disease? We don't even know how it works, is it airborne, transferred through blood? Hell if I know. What we should be talking about are the things we do know." At this point, Tony was thinking aloud more than anything else. As he continued talking, he began emptying his backpack of school supplies onto the table they stood around.

"We know whatever is causing this makes people into cannibals, and it makes them super fucking angry apparently. Did you see what happened between that kid and Mr. Robert's? He was a grown man and he couldn't stop a freshman from gnawing on him. There's something off here, I just don't know what." The last thing to fall on his pile of supplies was his handy-dandy flask. He gazed at it hungrily until he snatched it up and brought it to his lips for a gulp, his hands were only shaking slightly now. Tony let out a satisfied sigh before offering the flask to all those around him, "Ah. I put rum in here if I remember correctly, kinda helps with the stress. What was I saying? Oh yeah, either way we're gonna have to leave here eventually, but I'd like to do it in a way where I don't end up as someone's lunch."

Tony shrugged and left his flask on the table before crouching down, becoming eye level with the table. He ran his hand up the table leg before checking how it attached to the body of the table. "We need a screw driver to get the legs off, it's a Philips head so we can use either type though. We could break the legs off if we need to but that would be loud as hell."

[Carlyle]

ᴋ ᴀ ʏ ʟ ᴇ ᴇ ᴊ ᴇ ɴ ɴ ɪ ɴ ɢ ꜱ

---

_{Location: Teacher's Lounge, Stockbridge Academy}

Date: March 6th, 2019

---

Kaylee sighed. Being on the same team, she wasn't exactly a stranger to Fitz's ugly side, and was probably one of the few that it had existed. It certainly didn't help her cause when the other girl decided to interject, either.

"Look. I'm just saying that trying to figure out a plan of action when everyone is on edge won't help us." Kaylee replied, crossing her arms, as she, too, leaned against the wall. "It doesn't have to be long. Maybe twenty or thirty minutes to let them process things and maybe think of something that can help us. Besides, we're safe in here for the time being, unless you want to tell me that you saw that they can open locked doors and dismantle barricades."

They.

Was it right to refer their former classmates and teachers as something else than human? Were they still alive, just sick with some sort of rabies? No, that couldn't be it. Kaylee wasn't a genius regarding science, but general common sense told her that no one could walk away with having their throat ripped open. Maybe there was a chance if the victim was rushed into surgery right then and there, but even then their survival chance was likely extremely slim.

They had to be dead, or something other than human. Still, Kaylee shuddered at the thought. She had been trying to put on a brave front, but considering someone who you had known—someone who could've been a friend or even family—a literal monster wasn't exactly so simple.

To avoid dwelling on the subject for much longer, Kaylee took another look around the teacher's lounge. Fitz and a couple other students seemed to have followed the lead of one of the other kids. Despite being friends with just about anyone, Kaylee struggled to put a name to the face, but his idea of seeing what they all had on hand was something that she could agree with. If the world was truly ending, then it was worth pooling what little resources they had together and throw out what they didn't need, like the unwieldy textbooks they had to carry around all day.

As she set aside her textbook and miscellaneous coursework, however, Kaylee came to the conclusion that she had little to offer. If anything, her smartphone was likely the only thing of use, unless they found a vending machine that took bills. Although no one could've predicted everyone turning into bloodthirsty cannibals, Kaylee still mentally kicked herself over it, wishing she had brought her softball dufflebag to school, knowing full well her guards and bat—anything useful towards not being devoured alive—would've been a blessing to have on hand.

By the time Kaylee was finished digging through her belongings, the rest of the group, or at least some of them, were beginning to come to their senses. Whilst the plan Alex spoke of was relatively simple and straightforward, Kaylee felt it was a plan that could work. On the other hand, taking a swig of the alcohol that was offered by Tony, however, was something Kaylee wasn't entirely on board with. Sure, alcohol could calm the nerves, but was chancing being tipsy at a time like this worth taking the risk?

Kaylee didn't think so, but she decided to let the others make their own choice. "None for me, but wouldn't it be best to check on those that need it the most first?" Kaylee explained, nodding slightly towards the girl who had been digging through the cabinets as a possible start for him. Given that she had practically launched her belongings across the room, the girl was probably in dire need of something to calm the nerves, even if it was bitter alcohol.

"As for the table, I don't think anyone has a screwdriver on them. Shop class probably has some, but I doubt we could get there right now. Though, couldn't we just use a coin to unscrew it from the table? All we have to do is get the screw to turn and come loose, right? Unless the legs are welded to other parts of the desk like the ones in our classrooms."

---

@Inkarnate@DystopyanKing

[MissCapnCrunch]

---

When Dontae's older sister told him freshman year would be hard on him, he didn't think she had meant this. As the youngest person in the group the freshman didn't want to start sobbing but he also felt that it was necessary for the amount of emotions he had been going through. Sniffling to try to hold back tears, Dontae had spent the last few minutes listening to everyone talk and try to come up with a plan. All he could think about at the moment was how he was going to get home, if his sister was okay, and how out of breath he was running down the hallway at full speed to thankfully find solace in the teacher's lounge.

The teacher's lounge was something that this freshman had never seen before. In his creative mind he thought it would be much more intricate and exclusive. He had imagined a high tech room with large screen televisions, video games, a full time catered chef- all of these things were quickly dismissed as the faint smell of mildew and old coffee hung over them.

The offer of alcohol had peaked the boy's interest but he could hear his mother's voice right now in a punishing tone. He had once sneaked some of her tequila at last year's Christmas party and had spent the rest of the night cleaning up vomit from the living room of his Auntie's house. He knew the repercussions of this type of behavior on himself and on others and knew it was best to stay out of it.

Wiping his tears from his chubby cheeks he asked to the group, "Is there anything I can do to help right now?" he took off his glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of his sweater before putting them back on his face. "All I have on me is my bus card, my inhaler and uh well-" he wanted to say his knock off airpods that he had gotten, but decided against it in case someone decided to take them away from him. "That's all I got right now. Does any of it help?" he asked a bit more confident as he started to become more himself again, meek in comparison to the boy before this whole affair.

[Fabricant451]

_{Teacher's Lounge}

---

---

"GODDAMMIT!" For those in the teacher's lounge who had been more concerned with what was going on outside, panicking or approaching something close to that, they might not have even noticed the school's resident troublemaking leather punk until her voice boomed out and was punctuated by a loud, sudden thud of a bang. Elliot's fist slammed into the front of the vending machine, leaving a dent right in the middle of the blown-up-image-for-detail Pepsi can. Given the situation, anger was certainly to be expected, it was a natural part of the process; those who were afraid sometimes used anger as a coping mechanism and if anyone at Stockbridge seemed the type to turn to anger at the drop of a hat it was Elliot.

"Fuckin' thing ate my dollar!" Elliot gave another hit to the soda machine, clapping it on the side before giving it a shake, as if that would solve the problem of a machine taking a dollar but giving nothing in exchange. Even the little dongle that turned a dollar into quarters wasn't working which was a travesty. What kind of game was this school running? The teacher's lounge had a better vending machine than the cafeteria in Elliot's estimation but what good was it when it didn't work? Without much regard for the current state of the room, Elliot dug into the back pocket of her pants. The rustling of something plastic was almost as loud as the banging of the vending machine. After a moment, Elliot's already annoyed face let out a sigh as a squashed half triangle - the best way to cut a sandwich - of a bologna sandwich clung to its plastic wrapping, meat and mayo looking like they had been victims of a murder while the bread was crumbly and falling apart.

Still, Elliot removed the sandwich from its prison and took a bite. It might've been ugly, but it was still food and dammit, she was hungry. Hungry enough to have eaten half of it in the auditorium with every intention to finish it there in the first place. Of course, when the menu changed for some students, what choice did Elliot have but to stash it in her pocket and leave? To think she was supposed to have a meeting with the principal - she had wanted permission to have her band play prom or at least open for whatever shit disc jockey they were sure to get, but in all likelihood the meeting was going to be how despite her achievements academically, her demerits socially would keep her from achieving anything other than increased notoriety. No prom gig, no valedictorian speech so she could say 'fuck' in front of parents and teachers with no real consequence, and in all likelihood no walking at graduation. Put into that perspective, maybe being in the lounge wasn't so bad. They'd probably get the vending machine open and then she'd be on easy street.

Of course she was hearing what some of the other students were saying, but what did she have to contribute? They were panicking, freaking out, trying to act cool and calm when they were neither. She wondered if any had reached the acceptance stage of things. Likely not. It was a bit too fresh in the mind, seeing Mr. Roberts get attacked more gruesomely than the pit at a punk show.

Elliot had finished half her sandwich by the time she found the teacher's fridge and a bit of optimism returned to her eyes. With a bit of miracle whip smudged at the left corner of her mouth, she threw open the fridge and pumped the air. "Score. Shame it's diet." The familiar 'tsssh' of a can of pop being opened followed as Elliot closed the fridge and took a healthy swig of Diet Coke. For the benefit of the room she held her belch. Wouldn't want everyone to think she was gross or something. "Right then, here you go."

Elliot removed the tab from the can of soda and tossed it onto the table that was presently holding supplies the others had tossed on top of before approaching it herself, Diet Coke in hand.

"You know why they call it a Phillips drive? Guy named John Thompson couldn't get people interested in his crosshead design, sold the design to Henry Phillips who refined it and got General Motors on board. Now it's damn near industry standard. Just calling it a Phillips drive is one thing, but I don't think any one really cares about the finer nuances of screw design." Elliot set the Diet Coke on the table. "What size is it? Is it sheet metal? Probably, it's a table, not a machine. What's her name is on the right track, we could use a coin. We could also use a soda tab. The machine ate my dollar, so if someone gives me a dime, I can show you how to unscrew the shit out of something with a coin and a cola tab."

"I'll take a penny but don't be a cheapass."

[mickilennial]

Fitz raised a brow as Elliot Springfield slammed her fist into the vending machine, screaming out in anger about the loss of money but likely the loss of her own mood.

Considering the only thing useful the group had amongst themselves was a burnout’s alcohol flask and a bunch of paperweights, Fitz nearly sighed. Fortunately, some amount of them were trying to think on their feet before Elliot unveiled that she had some weird knowledge revolving around jury-rigged screwdrivers and well, the history of screwdrivers in general. The former head cheerleader hadn’t asked for a history lesson, but if it distracted people to get them to pool their heads together, she was all for it. Admittedly, Fitz didn’t know Elliot particularly well, but as far as she could tell it was useful to have someone with her… reputation around.

Turns out that, once again, she was right... or at least she was as soon as Elliot got done with her history lesson.

“Well, there you go. Not enough table legs to go around, but its a start.”

Fitz looked over toward the girl who had started to pilfer in the cabinets. The weird, awkward girl. Was she in any of her classes? She couldn’t recall if she was.

“Anything useful in there? Like, outside of Diet Coke. Any kind of food, like Alex mentioned?”

[Darcs]

---

^{Location: Stockbridge Academy, Teacher’s Lounge}

^{Date: 3/6/19}

^{With: Everyone}

---

The troubled girl let out a silent sigh to herself as she finished looking through all she could look through in the room.

In her rummaging, Colmillo hadn't found much that the others might find particularly useful-- though, to her it was kind of a treasure trove. The coffee tin, the filters, and the unexpired milk-- all of that meant coffee! She didn't know about her schoolmates, but fresh coffee could keep her going for days! Who needed something as heavy as "food" weighing you down? Making you fat and unattractive, anyway? Less exciting, but still useful, she supposed, were the disposable cups-- though, they could be used to hold water, and by her count there were 16 more than enough for everyone to have one of their own. It wasn't the multi-gallon containers she was hoping for, but it was definitely a start-- everyone here was definitely dehydrated. Plus, once the milk carton and coffee tin were empty, they could be filled with water. Assuming the water and power last that long... or the others didn't just rush out of here... She tried to shake the negative thoughts out of her head, knowing that was impossible for her. As she did, she began to make herself, and whoever else wanted one, she supposed, a pot of coffee.

The Teacher's Lounge's coffee maker was a bit of a downgrade from what she had access to at Fred's house-- this was a simple auto drip-- back home she had a fully automated espresso maker, a moka pot, an aeropress, a Frenchpress, a chemex, a Vietnamese drip filter, a percolator, and a fucking Ibrik. Fred was a coffee buff himself, sure-- but he has surely gotten Colmillo all those different coffee makers as a way to see her out of her room more, his gentle way of 'prodding' at her. Using this reminded her of a her time in NYC-- as she moved from the cabinets, almost unconsciously remembering how much of the coffee grinds you needed to put in, in comparison to how much water she was using for a strong pot-- coffee and a coffee maker was one o the few things her mother never sold, even it seemed they'd become homeless. Her mother was working 3 jobs, she was barely getting any sleep-- she needed as much of it as she could get, as did Colmillo. Her mother would often take out her anger on the non-responsive Colmillo for having to dd to her workload, not that Colmillo blamed her, she definitely deserved it. Still, if it wasn't for the energy boost from coffee, which she eventually learned to make for the two on instinct, she'd have taken many more beatings.

Her attention snapped away from the hypnotic drip of the brown goodness and back to what the group was discussing when she caught the last of what someone was saying-- "--We can find improvised weapons all over the place. There also might just be a safer room in this place than this tiny thing. We can't find anything if we stay cooped up in this room though. Does anyone have anything that we could protect ourselves with? If anything we could break the legs off of that table and use them."

WHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?????????????

Colmillo had to turn around and brace herself against the counter to avoid fainting right there. He wanted to fight those things? Without even knowing if they could be killed? Without knowing how their illness spread? With blunt weapons? Without even knowing if they could still be human and cured eventually? The girl felt a sharp pain shoot up her left arm as she balled her scrawny fists against the counter tops, she lifted her right arm and gripped her right arm around the source of the pain. The injury from the fall was lingering, it seemed. Besides that, more voices responded to the other brunette boy with the insane plan.

The second seemed reasonable at first. He spoke on how we didn't even know the logistics of the disease, and how it clearly increased the strength of those who had it. He had rum... somehow? Gerald would have liked him. But then he went right on ahead, agreeing with the table leg plan. Colmillo would have screamed, if she wasn't sure she was physically impossible of it. Then came Kay-- it seemed the boy she thought was reasonable was offering her booze, she'd denied it, and said someone else needed it more, Probably me... She thought. Then Kay agreed with the two boys.

Were it not for the pain shooting through her bony left arm, she would have gripped the bridge of her nose in frustration at everyone quickly jumping onto this plan of violence.

She was surprised though-- the next person to speak she actually did recognize. Dontae Davis, the underachieving Colmillo shared a few classes with the Freshmen, actually. They weren't friends, of course-- but she knew him well enough to recognize him by his voice. Probably because she'd gotten a little curious of his after class boasting to his friends and listened to a few of his mixtapes. He had some bars-- if it weren't for all these zombies she thought the child could have gone somewhere with his fledgling rap career. It stung her a little when his offer for help was completely ignored by everyone, even if what he had to offer was mostly useless. This Further proved to her, at least, that tensions were still far too high to be making plans of any kind.

Like. You just didn't ignore kids in a time of crisis like this! She'd grant them that maybe they couldn't tell that she was an underclassmen considering her height, making her the tallest female here, and nearly as tall as some of the males, even though she knew none of them had probably never seen her before, most if not all of the were seniors, they probably just thought she was a junior or took "special" classes or something. They could definitely tell that he was an underclassmen though-- he was the shortest here, he practically had tears in his eyes, and he was looking to them, these people who were practically adults for guidance and direction. Of course he gets nothing, finding the quickest route to violence is obviously the most important thing. Fuck her vow of silence-- she was going to speak to Dontae, hopefully a familiar face would do him some good (if he even remembered her), see if she could say anything or do anything for him that would make him more more comfortable.

Comillo nearly face planted on the counter as another non-Fitz blonde with a crazy look in her eye cursed and kicked at the vending machine. Perhaps bracing herself against the counter the counter with her injured arm wasn't the smartest idea? As the pain her arm numbed, she moved to cross them over her stomach, as she did, the crazy eyed blonde made her way over to the fridge. MUCH too close to Colmillo for her comfort, the girl shrunk away as she did. Colmillo didn't pay much attention all she had to say after that, history after that, history was never her forte-- but she had gathered that there was another person on board with the plan to send people out into the hallway armed with table legs. There weren't even enough for everyone to have one! So were they just going to send the 4 'strongest' out and hoped they made it back fine?

The awkward girl noticed Fitz looking at her-- directly at her. That itself was enough to make Colmillo want to vomit. But then she spoke: “Anything useful in there? Like, outside of Diet Coke. Any kind of food, like Alex mentioned?” This pushed her over the edge, she was sure she was blushing-- hopefully the senior couldn't notice it at their distance. It... typically took time before Colmillo was able to directly communicate with others, so to be so directly addressed was...

Well, it took Colmillo out of her body.

She was now hundreds of miles away, performing a song on Broadway.

---

---

A literal musical number

---

I know what's gonna happen
I'll try to say a word
With fear of failure flapping
In my head just like a bird

I've slept for like 70 hours
But somehow that's just not enough
I'll forget my drowsiness as my stomach's filled with knots
And of course I haven't had any breakfast
Really just a little coffee
Like when you have to go
And get a colonoscopy
Which incidentally isn't half
As disconcerting or upsetting
As when you just friggin know
There is no way to survive fighting these zombies

But anyway I work myself up to speak with Fitz
Where everything I'm dreading will be coming to the end of my wits
And here's what's gonna happen
I'll whisper weak with hunger
And there's half a dozen girls
Who look prettier than me but ten years older

I'll retreat into my head
And I'll try to formulate
And I'll be saying *blah blah blah it's mostly coffee and milk blah blah blah and some granola bars and cups for holding water blah blah blah*
But I'll be hearing is Colmillo sucks
She really sucks, she really, really, really blows
And she's young, and she's lame
And then Fitz calls my name

And here's what happens
I'm suddenly back into the room
The gross fluorescent lightning is inviting as a tomb
And all the seniors smile, they'll say its good to see ya
But all I see is judges
And they'll all look like Scalia

And then a little banter as they look me up and down
And somewhere through the fog of insecurity and hate
I'll try to convince them that I'm smart
And I'm clever and I'm useful to have around
But I'm starting to unravel, in my head I hear the gavel

Guilty!

They're gonna throw the book at me 'cause I'm

Guilty!

Of coming in and wasting all their time

Guilty!

Of almost every other survival-horror crime
Not old enough!
Not strong enough!
Not smart enough!
Not good enough!

We hereby sentence you to a death by being zombie bait and debilitating self-loathing

But wait now someone's asking
So can we hear what you found?
I make a lame attempt at humor: Do I have to say it loud?
I make the mistake of looking over at Elvina, she's got such perfect hair,
It's been three days since she's had it done but there's not a trace of dandruff and it falls without a care

No sooner do I get my words
And open up my trap
Then inevitably some mealy-mouthed senior student's
Eye's glaze over as they judge me
And I know they're probably thinking
Lmao, This girl is crap
She's a fake
She's a phony
She could never kill a zombie

And now I'm in a place I know quite well
I've left the world and I've entered hell
I'm this far away from a fainting spell

But just before I die
I finish a taking stock
Which I oversell
Fitz says thanks
And wishes me well
The next thing I know
I'm at the coffee maker
Stuffing my face with coffee

I'm trying to take it slowly
I'm trying to be my best
I'm trying to be more holy
Less bitter and depressed
I'm considering what Kay said
She makes a lot of sense
Maybe some booze would help me focus less on dread
Gerald says it helps you be less tense

I'VE TRIED IT BEFORE-- IT DOESN'T DO A THING FOR ME

I sit there on the floor
I watch a vivid sequence
Of humiliating instances from my past go by
And think what kind of masochist
Keeps coming back for more

But you know what's gonna happen
'Cuz it never doesn't happen
It's gonna always, always, always
No! I know what's gonna happen
Don't tell me that I don't
I know I say I'll rise up to
The occasion but I won't

And don't say I've got talent
And don't say I've got heart
And don't say that I'm clever
'Cuz I know I'm pretty smart
I'm smart enough to know
That I'm too stupid to admit
You can't survive a diet
That consists of eating shit
The trick is knowing when it's time to pack your bags
And say "That's it!"

You know what's gonna happen
I know what's gonna happen
Here's what's gonna happen
I quit!
I quit!
I quuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuit!

---

---

Colmillo, of course, didn't quit. As much as she wanted to. But her escape into her head was definitely a welcome one from the stress of... well, everything. She wasn't sure how many seconds, or even minutes that internal musical number had taken her-- but Fitz didn't seem particularly annoyed, and she seemed like the type who didn't like to be kept waiting. Acting quickly, Colmillo opted to simply present what was in the cabinets and fridge to her instead of simply telling her. Quickly, she grabbed the milk out of the fridge, the 4 remaining granola bars, the coffee tin (minus some grounds), the filters (minus one), and the disposable cups (minus one) and dropped them all off at the table.

After placing all the objects, Colmillo just took a few steps back from the table, an awkward blush on her face and her eyes glued to the ground.

---

[skidcrow]

It took a while for her to get moving, after however long spent lazing around in the hall, but once Bill got started there was no room for her to stop. Screams tore through the air and pounded in her ears to the beat of her own circulatory system, spurring whatever wires that were pulling her limbs along to tug faster and harder. She weaved through the crowds with as much ease as her flailing allowed her, silently scorning herself for every time she complained about her height, which was now providing her cover from whoever might want to take a bite out of her. At some point it began to feel like she wasn't even truly there, just witnessing her own life from an omniscient perspective in the sky. Her heart crashed against her chest like a violent storm at sea. She just about managed to catch a glimpse of a few people taking refuge in the teacher's longue, all but leaping through a gap in the stampede and stumbling in after them. Her mind fell back into the confines of her body with it, giving her enough free will over her movements to pop a mint as another person ran inside and the door swung shut. A sort of numb shaking plagued her hands as she did. The adrenaline rushed to her head, combining with the sensation of vomit rising up her throat to make her feel thousands of leagues underwater, being pushed against the ground by some unknown force. Her whole body was two seconds away from either astral projecting out of the room or bursting at the seams from the pressure. Maybe she shouldn't have skipped breakfast.

————————————————— 𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗞𝗘━━━ ————————————————— ━━━ march 6th 2019 ━━━ teacher's lounge, stockbridge academy ━━━ everyone ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Other students perched themselves in different areas of the room, and Bill took the opportunity to do the same. She sat crosslegged by the trashbin in the corner—if anything broke through, it'd go straight past her for the people crowded around the fridge and vending machine, and she might just have enough time to run out behind them. Call it sociopathic, but she was fairly certain a 5'1" junior who avoided sports like the plague didn't have much on grown-ass cannibal psychos. She ignored any mention of the z-word that flashed across her mind. Slowly, the others in the room began to unfurl the thick blanket of silence—barring the one crying in the other corner, she didn't recognise them—that wrapped around them. Rosemary Fitzgerald, whom Bill had no real say in recognising, how couldn't you, was first to speak. It began to trickle in after that. The crying kid mentioned having keys to an SUV before crying once again, what joy. Not that Bill trusted anyone in here behind the wheel of a large metal death trap. Her head whipped to a new speaker almost comically, one of 'Fitz's friends, not a bad looker, as she contested the call to arms. Bickering wasn't much help either. Bill tried to just focus on remembering faces and picking up any names that came along after that, not attempting to speak up. She didn't go to any clubs, so she didn't know half these people, and she didn't have anything useful on her gear-wise or knowledge-wise. The room's attention was focused on Rosemary as she tried to take charge of the situation, with most interaction being voices of agreement or disagreement. Next to step up to the mantle was someone she actually recognised, being Alex Woulfe (unofficially Theatre Kid in Bill's mind) from her classes. However much she internally cringed at the thought of theatre, it at least paid off for him. He had her going up until the weapons part, or at least weapons that weren't guns she could use to kill things from a safe distance, where she wouldn't get trampled by freaks. Unfortunately, melee weapons attached to small, shrimpy high schoolers seemed to be popular. As with Alex, Mr. Jawline started out strong, trying to get a grip on what actually happened to the not-zombies, kinda like Mr. Not-In-Humans, then looped back to the worst fucking idea. Table legs for weapons. After directly saying a grown-ass man couldn't fend off a freshman. Kay, if what was said before was right, brought it around even further to using fucking table legs to fight off crazy cannibal zombie freak motherfuckers. Then an adorable little freshman who absolutely would get chewed up by zombies—fuck it, she guessed they were now—offered up his inhaler and bus card and holy shit that was LOUD. Banging on the soda machine was someone Bill recognised from around school as being exactly the type of person to punch a soda machine in the figurative face. She watched the journey of a failed retrieval of the sacred dollar, to eating a depressing mush of a sandwich, to a successful retrieval of a diet soda, which was about the closest thing to peace she was getting for the next however how long. Disappointment naturally set back in once a history lesson morphed into a full plan to arm high schoolers with table legs against zombies. Table legs. Zombies. Braincells nonexistent. Not even enough table legs, as was pointed out, before the room's attention was called to a girl stood silently sifting through cabinets. With no response whatsoever, the girl simply stared at a cabinet for a beat, before quickly grabbing anything useful and laying it out on the table. Like her soul left her body or something. Luckily, the weird silence seemed to grip the room long enough for Bill to stand up—probably still drawing zero attention to her tiny ass—and take her first words, ensuring her mint was chewed down enough to not cripple her with a mint-induced lisp. "Great... 'haul'... and everything," she stalled, staring meekly at the collection of granola bars and coffee ingredients, "but can we start with some fucking names? Inventing nicknames for all of you in my head based on the things I dislike the most about you is unusually depressing today. Also, the whole table leg thing is a fucking terrible idea."

[mickilennial]

Fitz wasn’t exactly sure why the younger girl had decided to not speak up when she asked her a question, and normally she would’ve repeated herself to make a point, but the current situation called for a lot of distractions.

Before she could look at the lounge’s supplies that the girl had collected another girl had decided to speak up, almost demanding to know everyone’s names while also dismissing the whole idea of dismantling the tables as being a good idea. Fitz didn’t agree, but she admitted table legs were the last thing she had in mind when it came to self-defense from… whatever had happened to their teachers and fellow classmates. But given the fact that two members of the softball team were present and accounted for, they could probably do plenty with cheap metal table legs, or at least better than the sarcastic underclassman thought.

Not that Fitz particularly cared about her opinion. As far as she was concerned it was her that was in charge and everybody else was either useful or not-useful. Though, she understood that not everyone was from the same social circles or even the same class year. Introductions would have to be made, even if they were under awkward circumstances.

“You can call me Fitz, I guess.”

There was a short pause as she looked over the table again, while keeping the girl in the corner of her eye.

“As for the ‘table leg thing’ It might be a terrible or stupid idea, but it's probably better than nothing once we have to go out there. Unless you think we should go without anything to defend ourselves with? Do you have a better idea?”

[CaliforniaState]

Location: Teacher's Lounge -- Group Discussion

---

The heat was lifted from his skin having heard that one of the students thought his suggestion was a good idea. It was nice to be heard for once, but not just be heard but to be seen and known that you were right instead of holding it in and regretting it down the line. Although his suggestion was helpful the materials he carried in bag were not. After all what does a bug loving art kid bring to the table besides weird facts and a pair of tweezers most would just use to pluck their unruly hairs with? Nothing or well that’s what he thought at least. Emotions were obviously very high and the number of hormones and urge for both power and safety made it inevitable that personalities would clash, and ideas would turn to competition on who was the most correct. So, with the materials he had at hand he took a different approach, he did what he knew best, and he drew.

There was a purpose to his drawing, it’s not like he was drawing nothing or just another insect. Rather he was being to sketch early blueprints of the school from memory. He couldn’t count how many times he traversed the school halls, how many twists and turns you had to take to reach your class across campus in under five minutes before the bell rang. The numerous levels and empty rooms that laid idle after everyone was gone and it was just the after-school programs. And so, as people argued and offered advice whether it was helpful or not, he constantly closed his eyes and squinted trying to remember every last detail that could possibly help aid in their escape. Eventually the black lines along the white canvas sprung to life and illustrated the architecture of the school or at least in the best imitation a senior high schooler could provide. Despite everything he could recall from the years he’s been there he knew he had to ask around for help.

The athletic kids definitely would have more intimate knowledge of the track and field or the locker rooms he never set foot in. The only issue was slipping back into the lime light and commanding their attention once more. His realization soon began to trigger his social anxiety knowing his social battery had just recharged only to be depleted once more. Not having taken notice of the new arrivals he saw several more familiar and unfamiliar faces enter the fray, there was strength in numbers, right? Right? Who knows, maybe that was just made up dialogue saved for only horror movies with the same setting just as this. One of the students wondered if they were injured beyond psychologically and that made him chuckle. Another spoke in the same facet of Maslow’s hierarchical needs in regards to needing food, water and shelter only with the caveat of needing weapons structured from basic school supplies.

It was ironically nice to see the comradery between strangers in the hallways come together and synergize for a means to escape. That girl Elliot was confident, knowledgeable, and a leader; all things he was not but admired in this sort of scenario and she was funny too which always helped. Mounting enough courage to speak again he rehearsed over and over in his head ensuring he wouldn’t fuck up and look like an idiot, but he needed a Segway into the conversation. God or whichever deity you believed in must have heard his prayers as Bill pressed pause on the pandemonium and backtracked to something much simpler, names. A perfect way to interject, of course after Fitz had gone and introduced herself it was only natural for him to go next.

Clearing his throat, he spoke once more both clearly and concisely, “My name is Alexander, but you can call me Xan for short.” Knowing full well there was another Alexander in their ranks and he always asked his teachers to call him Xan anyways.

“And I uh kind of have been drawing the layout of the whole school. After we find some weapons maybe we can escape onto the roof or underground. If there’s anything I left out, you can see for yourselves and I’ll draw it in” his heart was beating a mile a minute more so now than when he saw the living dead feasting in the halls. Hopefully they would heed his plan of action.

[Fabricant451]

_{Teacher's Lounge}

---

---

So no one had a single coin on them? Really? It wasn't as if Elliot was going to steal someone's pocket change, she might've gotten a lot of detentions in her time here but never for theft. Now she just looked kind of like a jackass or, worse, some crazy person that punches things first and asks questions never. Her reputation was hardly sterling so on that front she didn't have much to lose but still, it would've been nice to have at least one person in her corner - considering others were talking about table legs in a panic and she was offering to do the unscrew job for them. Elliot could understand why some defaulted to table legs, they were typically made of either the same material as a table or, such as with card tables or those weird hard plastic tables at church banquets and shit, cold black metal that, while not quite as hard as something made of steel, would at least be better than nothing.

Elliot's knowledge of screws and indeed most of her handiness came from the same source. Not a book or tv or being so bored that the only way to pass time is to browse wikipedia articles until something comes up. It came from her father. The best times of her life were the weekends and summers where the two of them worked on fixing up old cars in the garage, arguing over what to play between MC5 and Cryptic Slaughter before settling on The Replacements so as not to frighten the neighbors too much. Elliot's father, James, was a walking font of useless trivia about things like screws and tools in general; he claimed it helped him be a better mechanic but Elliot just thought all dads got some kind of manual about trivia to bore your children with. But it was never boring to Elliot.

She really hoped her dad was doing alright.

But, she couldn't let that control her thoughts. There were more important things to worry about, and chief among them was the resident 'bad idea' mood lowerer in the room. There was always one in a group project who scoffed at everything presented as the way to go while offering nothing in return and there was one effective way of getting them to fall in line. "Oi, you." Elliot pointed and glowered towards the one who had been sitting by a trashbin. "First of all, watch your mouth, there's kids present. Second, if you've got a better idea, by all means take the floor. Look around, yeah? Everyone's scared or tryin' not to be, the last thing they need is someone sayin' an idea is terrible without any secondary idea presented."

Elliot took the opportunity to give one of the table legs a kick, nothing hard, more of a tap with her foot than some kind of forceful gesture. "If it makes people feel safer then what's the harm? It's not even that terrible an idea, you hit someone or...something hard enough in the head and they reel. One good swing can change everything - that's what my dad said when the Tigers were losin'. Unless you've got a bag full of tricks or somethin', then what's the harm in lettin' people have something to defend themselves with? What we don't need is negativity."

Elliot grabbed her Diet Coke and drank from the can, before setting it down with another held down belch. "Name's Elliot, by the way, but ya'll probably heard of me. All true, by the way."

[Bartimaeus]

Cash Kattner

_{Location: Stockbridge Academy, Teacher's lounge.
March 6th, 2019.}

---

---

I'll take that lack of a response as a "no", he thought.

Cash continued surveying the faces of each individual in the room as they said their pieces - each saturated with various signs of worry or fear - as was to be expected. If any of them had been hurt, he was sure they'd not be quick to hide it. They'd have more important things to use their energy on.

Another student in the room in particular caught his eye. He was a young fellow, to be sure, and was the only other black kid besides Cash himself. He looked like he'd been on the verge of tears as he cleaned his glasses with his sleeve. Cash wondered what was running through his head.

Fear. Uncertainty. Hope, that this group of older students could somehow protect him, maybe? Maybe.

Cash casually moved over to him, finding a seat on the edge of one of the lounge's tables, with his back towards most of the group except Dontae. He leaned forward from his seat, offering his hand to the younger individual in a vertical handshake. "Sup man?" he said in a lower voice, accompanied by a friendly half-smile. "I guess none of us came very prepared for an apocalypse, huh?" he reassured him, letting the contents of his pocket - being his phone, keys, and a lunch card - fall from his hand and onto the table beside him.

He turned to look at the rest who were conversing - exchanging names, arguing amongst themselves. Some coming up with plans. They were all obviously stressed - and were feeling rushed for time, he surmised. But time might be on their side. They weren't going to get dehydrated or starve in a few mere hours - and it was entirely possible that a few of the.. cannibals would wander off, potentially out of the building if they chased someone out. Could leave certain hallways relatively clear. Hopefully.

It was good for them to distract themselves from the shock anyway.

Cash turned back to the other, younger student. "But that's alright. The name's Cash - how about you?"