princess
Bugman
SilverPaw
PapaOso
CitrusArms
Tpartywithzombi
Lava Alckon
Rightful Heir
MurderVictim
Dark Cloud
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The call had been too late for Jun-Seo. The university was riddled with them. He could see staff members and students alike tear each other apart with their bare hands and their teeth sunk into the flesh of their friends. Jun-Seo, along with others, were slowly making their way through the campus as chaos erupted around them. A colleague of his, Professor Smith, needed to head home to her family and make sure they were okay. Two students in his class lived together in the dorm just five minutes from them. Luckily for them, Jun-seo's old Toyota was the closest to them.
The group learned quickly that these people or zombies, as one of the students yelled out, were what the media had been going on about for hours now. It was spreading- fast. The group managed to all squeeze into the small Toyota. Other staff members and students alike had the same idea as they ran towards their car inside the parking structure.
Everything was happening so fast. Jun-Seo had simply accepted the fact that zombies were real when he saw one of his students bite into the face of another. The class had just started, and the student, her name had been Ana, walked in late. Blood dripped from her neck and chest. Her friend, a student named Mike, rushed to her side just to be pinned down to the floor and have his face bit off by the woman she was trying to save. After that, well, all hell broke. Outside his class, people were already screaming and running down the halls.
Now, as Jun-Seo maneuvered through the parking lot, trying to avoid the bodies of students and staff members running away to their cars or away from the blood-covered zombies, his face hadn't changed. The initial shock of the whole situation was gone. When one of the infected ran in front of his car, breaking the front window and rolling from the hood of the car as it left a trail of blood, Jun-Seo was not phased. In fact, he was more annoyed than anything else. He could tell Smith was unnerved by his lack of emotional response, but the man was used to others' reactions.
Behind him, the two girls began to cry, and on his right, Professor Smith was trying to get in contact with her family. But Jun-Seo just sat there, his brain unable to react to the situation. He didn't know how to respond to it. Was he supposed to cry? Be angry? Shocked?
Jun-Seo couldn't feel. Not yet. He dropped off the Professor and the two students thirty minutes after all hell had broken loose on the campus.
Now alone, Jun-Seo stared at his hands that gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles had turned white from the force he held the wheel. His chest felt heavy. He couldn't breathe. His head kept pounding, and his vision was going blurry. Jun-Seo continued to sit there, staring at his hands through the attack.
It must have been minutes, but it had felt like hours for the man.
The church. Right.
Jun-Seo started up his car again and began to drive towards the church. He could still feel the weight on his chest. It didn't matter. He had to go. Get to the church. Call his family back in Los Angeles and make sure they were okay. Anything was better than sitting in his car, staring at his hands. Fifth Street and Durum. That was his destination.
The group learned quickly that these people or zombies, as one of the students yelled out, were what the media had been going on about for hours now. It was spreading- fast. The group managed to all squeeze into the small Toyota. Other staff members and students alike had the same idea as they ran towards their car inside the parking structure.
Everything was happening so fast. Jun-Seo had simply accepted the fact that zombies were real when he saw one of his students bite into the face of another. The class had just started, and the student, her name had been Ana, walked in late. Blood dripped from her neck and chest. Her friend, a student named Mike, rushed to her side just to be pinned down to the floor and have his face bit off by the woman she was trying to save. After that, well, all hell broke. Outside his class, people were already screaming and running down the halls.
"The assignment will be due by tomorrow night on Canvas before midnight. Now, today we are covering social cognition. We all process, store, and apply information differently." It was a subject he was very familiar with. Jun-Seo had turned to his laptop to open up the slide he had prepared the night before. It had been like any other day. He had gotten five hours of dreamless sleep and woken up to the sound of his neighbors arguing again. Everything had come crashing down far too quickly for him to progress things.
Now, as Jun-Seo maneuvered through the parking lot, trying to avoid the bodies of students and staff members running away to their cars or away from the blood-covered zombies, his face hadn't changed. The initial shock of the whole situation was gone. When one of the infected ran in front of his car, breaking the front window and rolling from the hood of the car as it left a trail of blood, Jun-Seo was not phased. In fact, he was more annoyed than anything else. He could tell Smith was unnerved by his lack of emotional response, but the man was used to others' reactions.
Behind him, the two girls began to cry, and on his right, Professor Smith was trying to get in contact with her family. But Jun-Seo just sat there, his brain unable to react to the situation. He didn't know how to respond to it. Was he supposed to cry? Be angry? Shocked?
Jun-Seo couldn't feel. Not yet. He dropped off the Professor and the two students thirty minutes after all hell had broken loose on the campus.
Now alone, Jun-Seo stared at his hands that gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles had turned white from the force he held the wheel. His chest felt heavy. He couldn't breathe. His head kept pounding, and his vision was going blurry. Jun-Seo continued to sit there, staring at his hands through the attack.
It must have been minutes, but it had felt like hours for the man.
The church. Right.
Jun-Seo started up his car again and began to drive towards the church. He could still feel the weight on his chest. It didn't matter. He had to go. Get to the church. Call his family back in Los Angeles and make sure they were okay. Anything was better than sitting in his car, staring at his hands. Fifth Street and Durum. That was his destination.
