Hell Isn't What You Think

Chapter 1: Hell Isn't New (Archer's POV)

Have you ever felt like the weight of the world was pressing so hard on your chest that you couldn't breathe? Like every step you take is dragging you closer to the ground? I know I have. But lying down and giving-That's a luxury I don't have anymore. Not in this world. Not when survival depends on staying sharp and always being ready.

The sounds of pounding footsteps pull me from my thoughts, followed by the unmistakable crash of the door flying open. “Move! We need to amputate-now!” Someone yells, their voice sharp with urgency.

I jerk upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as adrenaline rushes to take its place. My body protests the sudden movement, but I force myself to focus. “What the hell's going on?” I demand my voice hoarse from sleep, but the scene before me quickly answers the question.

Ryan bursts into the room, sweat dripping from his brow, his face pale beneath the grime. I almost didn't recognize him at first. He doesn't look like the same guy who used to be our school's golden boy, the star quarterback everyone admired. Now he's just another guard, his confidence chipped away by months of blood, fear, and loss.

“It's Ian!” Ryan gasps, his voice tight with panic as he moves to help Kevin the injured man into the room. “He was fixing the breach when a Cadaver jumped him. Took a massive chunk out of his wrist-right on the vein. There was no time to stop it.”

My stomach clenches as I get my first clear look at Ian. His skin is pale, almost gray, and slick with sweat. Blood pours from the wound on his wrist soaking through the makeshift bandage tied hastily around it. His eyes flutter open briefly, glassy and unfocused, before sliding shut again.

Kevin, ever calm under pressure, is already securing Ian to the table. The leather straps creak as they tighten around his arms and legs. “We got maybe a few minutes before it's too late.” Kevin mutters, his voice steady but grim.

“Shit.” I whisper under my breath, running a hand through my hair as I grab my kit from the corner. My fingers tremble slightly, but I force them to steady. this isn't the first time I've had to do this, and it sure as hell won't be the last.

“Archer, hurry!” Ryan snaps, his tone edging on desperate. I glance at him, and for a moment, I see fear in his eyes. The kind of fear that says we might already be too late.

I focus on Ian instead, ignoring the growing pit in my stomach. His chest rises and falls in uneven gasps, and his lips are tinged with blue. The infection works fast, and once it spreads, there's no coming back.

I grab the bone saw from the tray, it's blade gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. “How deep is the bite?” I ask, though I already know the answer won't change what needs to be done.

Ryan swallows hard. “Deep. The Cadaver damn near tore his hand off.”

“Great.” I mutter, my voice dripping with sarcasm that does little to mask my nerves. “This is going to be fun.”

As I position the saw over Ian's arm, a sharp pang of guilt cuts through me. Ian isn't just another survivor. He's one of us-a friend. And now I'm the one who has to make the call that could save him or condemn him.

“Hold him down.” I say, my voice firm as I look at Kevin and Ryan. They each grab a shoulder, their grips like iron. I take a deep breath, steading myself. The world feels heavier than ever, but I push the weight aside.

The saw bites into the flesh, and Ian's body jerks violently against the restraints. His screams pierces the air, raw and guttural, and I feel it in my chest like a knife. Ryan looks away, his jaw clenched, while Kevin keeps his focus locked on Ian, his expression unreadable.

“Almost there,” I grit out, though the words feel hollow. The room reeks of blood and sweat, and I can hear the faint growls of the cadavers in the back of my mind. Time is running out, but I can't afford to rush. One mistake, and Ian's as good as gone.

Finally, the blade cuts through the bone with a sickening crack. Blood sprays across the table, and for a moment, the world goes silent except for Ian's ragged breathing. I step back, my hands slick with blood, and toss the saw onto the tray.

Kevin quickly moves to cauterize the wound, the hiss of the heated metal pressing against the flesh filling the room. Ian's body shudders, but his screams have turned to weak whimpers. I look at his face, searching for any sign of consciousness, but his eyes remain closed.

“Will he make it?” Ryan asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

I don't answer right away. Instead, I wipe my hands on a towel, trying to ignore the metallic smell that clings to my skin. “I don't know.” I admit finally, my voice is heavy with exhaustion. “But it's done. Now we wait.”

“Archer might not know, but field amputations had a low survival rate back in the Civil War.” Kevin says, his voice steady but grim. His eyes remain fixed on Ian's unconscious face, the tension in his jaw betraying his unease. “We've got even less to work with than they did back then, Ry.”

I nod in silent agreement as I carefully wrap fresh bandages around Ian's stump, the bloody nub where his arm used to be. The sight doesn't get easier, no matter how many times I've seen it. The room feels stifling, like air itself is weighing us down. “Survival chances are pretty damn low.” I admit, my voice edged with frustration. “If it were me? I'd ask for a bullet. Especially since we're working with scraps. This isn't a hospital-it's barely even a medic station.”

Ryan, standing a few feet away, looks like he's been punched in the gut. His hands are shaking, and his face is pale as he stares at Ian. “You can save him, right?” He asks, his voice cracking. It's not really a question-it's a plea.

I glanced at him, then back at Ian. The truth feels like a weight in my chest, but there's no point sugarcoating it. “It's very unlikely.” I reply keeping my tone as even as I can. “Field amputations are incredibly dangerous. Too much can go wrong-blood loss, infection, shock. The odds aren't good, Ryan. And if I get bit? Don't even think twice. Just shoot me.”

Ryan flinches at my words, but he doesn't argue. Instead he sinks into a chair, his head in his hands. The room falls silent, the only sound the faint rustling of bandages as I work to tighten them around Ian's wound. The blood is persistent, staining my hands and the table beneath him. After a few minutes, I swap out the bandages again, knowing it's probably futile but doing it anyway.

Eventually, Ryan mutters something about needing to patrol and stumbles out the room. I don't stop him. Maybe fresh air will help clear his head. Or maybe he just can't bear to watch anymore.

Left alone, I turn my attention to the shelves lining the walls, running through a mental inventory as I move. Gauze, alcohol wipes, a dwindling supply of antiseptic. It's not much, and it never feels like enough. I double-check the lockbox where we keep the pain meds, ensuring it's still secure. Every pill is precious out here-worth more than gold.

Kevin returns a few minutes later, brushing dirt off his hands. “A couple of scrapes, and bruises outside.” He casually , nodding towards the door. “Nothing major, the out patients are doing good.”

Kevin Williams isn't the kind of guy you'd expect to see in a medic room, let alone helping out. Before all this, he was the type parents would warn you about-a “bad influence.” a kid with a reputation for trouble. His parents were junkies, and he followed in their footsteps, a cycle of chaos that seemed inescapable.

But after the turn, everything changed. When the outbreak hit, Kevin and I ended up trapped in the library with a group of terrified students. The others turned on him almost immediately, convinced his withdrawal symptoms and blood on his shirt meant he was infected. They were ready to kill him on the spot, panic driving them to madness.

I don't know why I stepped in. Maybe it was sheer unfairness of it, or maybe I saw something in Kevin that the others didn't. Either way, I stood between him and the mob, and somehow, we both made it out alive. Ever since then, we've been stuck together, for better or worse.

Now, watching Kevin move around the room with practiced ease, it's hard to reconcile the person he is now with the troubled kid he used to be. He's not perfect-none of us are- but he's reliable when it counts.

I glance over at Ian again, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The blood loss has taken it's toll, and I know we're running out of time. I want to believe he'll make it, but deep down, I know the odds are stacked against him.

“You think he will pull through?” Kevin asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

I hesitate, the weight of the question settling over me. “I don't know.” I admit finally, “But we'll do what we can. That's all we can do.”

Kevin nods, his expression unreadable. Outside, the faint growls of the Cadavers echo in the distance from the broken window. A grim reminder of the world waiting beyond these walls.

After a while, I decided to check in on Ian. As I approached the table, a sinking feeling settled in my gut. Something was off. Leaning in closer, I realized Ian wasn't breathing anymore. Panic and dread clawed at my chest as I reached for his wrist to check his pulse. His skin was still warm, too warm-but there was no steady beat beneath my fingers.

I stayed frozen for a moment, staring down at him. Then, a faint groan escaped his lips, low and gettural. My blood ran cold. Ian's body twitched, the lifeless shell of him beginning to stir in a way I knew all too well.

Without thinking, I yanked my knife from the sheath on my belt, the weight of it groaning me for what I had to do next. “Ian Wilkins,” I whisper, my voice cracking with both grief and resolve, “I give you mercy.”

With a swift motion, I drove the blade into his skull before he could fully reanimate, silencing him forever. The room went eerily quiet after that, the only sound was my own ragged breathing. For a moment, I stood there staring at what was left of him. This was the part they didn't tell you about-the heavy, hollow aftermath.

After a long pause, I force myself to move. Grabbing a clean cloth, I wipe the blade carefully, disinfecting it as best I could. Then I turned back to Ian, pulling a sheet over his body. The bloodstains would be impossible to miss, but at least it gave him some semblance of dignity.

It wasn't long before Kevin walked into the room with some food. His unkempt black hair caught the light, and his usual calm expression faltered the moment he saw the covered body.

“It's Ian,” I say quietly, untying his limp arms from the counter. “He didn't make it. Get the gurney, will you? We'll have to take him out back. Hopefully there are enough guys out there to help haul the body into the woods if not…” I trailed off, knowing Kevin would understand.

Kevin swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck. Shit… This never gets easier, does it?”

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “It's got to be done,” I replied, my voice flat. “Otherwise this place is gonna smell worse than it already does. At least most of the people here know how to take care of themselves now. That's one less thing to worry about.”

I grabbed my walkie-talkie, switching to the channel I used for Ash and Liam. “Ash, hun,” I call my voice softening at the thought of him. “We've got another death. I need you and Liam to help me move the body. Kevin's staying behind to watch the medic room. We'll take Ian to the spot with the others.”

Ash's deep thick Russian accent crackled through the static. “We'll be there soon,” He replied.

It didn't take long for them to show up. Ash walked in first, his massive frame nearly filling the doorway. He towered over me, his presence both imposing and comforting. Without a word, he pulled me into a quick hug, his arms strong and reassuring.

“Why do you do this?” He murmured his voice low and steady. “Why not be a guard like me?” His question carried genuine concern, his tone soothing even in moments like this.

I let out a soft awkward chuckle. “Either way I see death.” I say my voice tinged with weary acceptance. “And besides, I'm one of the only ones here who knows what they're doing. I'll train more people eventually, but for now…” I gesture towards the sheet-covered body. “We've got work to do.”

Ash sighed, releasing me from his hold. His tanned skin seemed to glow under the dim light, and the rifle slung over his shoulder and pistol at his hip made him look like he was built for survival. Liam stood behind him, armed similarly but with a shotgun in place of a rifle.

“Let's get this done.” Ash says, his tone firm but kind.

I nodded, steeling myself for the grim task ahead. Together, we lift Ian onto the gurney, the weight of his body a stark reminder of the harsh reality we lived in. There wasn't time to dwell on it. We had a job to do, and no amount of grief would make it easier.

Kevin had never helped with removing bodies. He refused to leave the safety of the walls, and honestly, I couldn't blame him. The fear in his eyes wasn't unfounded-his best friend had been ambushed by a group that seemed to materialize from this air. That kind of terror leaves scars you can't see.

Ash, Liam, and I wheeled Ian's lifeless body through the dimly lit back halls of the school, the silence only broken by the faint squeak of the gurney’s wheels. “How many deaths have there been this week?” Ash asked, his voice low but steady as he helped push.

I wracked my brain, trying to recall. “This makes the tenth this month,” I replied, my voice laced with exhaustion. “The only small mercy is that this wasn't a suicide. I don't think I could handle another one of those…” The weight of my own words hung heavy in the stale air.

As we turned another corner, I realized something was off. “Where the hell are Greg and Alex?” I muttered under my breath, scanning the empty hallway.

“Shit,” I hissed. “Prop the door open with that board.” Liam moved quickly wedging the board into place while Ash hefted Ian's body off the gurney with practiced ease.

Being outside always left me uneasy. The air felt heavier, like the weight of unseen eyes pressing against me.

“Don't worry, mate. We've got this.” Liam said, his voice trying to sound reassuring, but it wavered slightly.

I kept my gun out, my fingers brushing the cold metal as we moved towards the woods. Ash’s eyes darted around, scanning the shadows. “Stay sharp. They could be anywhere, especially with the activity near the front.” He warned.

My stomach tightened as I spotted a few figures shambling in the distance. I swallowed hard, trying to push the rising fear down. We pressed on, finally reaching the woodland area where the outdoor classroom stood-a grim, makeshift dumping ground for the bodies.

The smell hit us immediately, thick and rancid, clinging to the back of my throat. Liam gagged, “The smell…I can't stand it.” He muttered, his face pale.

Ash carefully lowered Ian's body to the ground, his movement almost reverent despite the grim task. Without a word, we turned to head back, but the quiet didn't last long.

Without warning, figures emerged from the treeline, their guttural growls breaking the silence. “Shit!” I hissed pulling out my knife as Liam raised his shotgun. He fired off a shot, the sound deafening in the stillness.

“Liam! Save the damn bullets!” I yelled, my voice sharp with urgency. “We're not in the clear yet!”

But Liam didn't listen. He kept firing, the blasts echoing through the woods. Ash grabbed my arm, pulling me back, but my eyes on Liam. One of the cadavers lunged at him.

“Liam, LOOK OUT!” I screamed, but it was too late. The thing sunk it's teeth into his shoulder, tearing through flesh. Liam's scream was blood curdling, raw with pain and terror.

Ash and I reacted instantly, our backs pressed together as we fired into the approaching horde. The chaos was overwhelming-the smell of gunpowder and decay mingling in the air, the weight of each pull of the trigger driving the cadavers back.

When the last of them fell, I turned to Liam, blood pouring from his shoulder. His face was pale, his breathing shallow.

“I'm not turning.” He rasped, his voice trembling but resolute.

Before we could stop him, he raised the shotgun, placing the barrel under his jaw. “Liam, no!” I shouted, reaching for him, but the deafening blast cut me off. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground, and I froze, my mind reeling.

The image burned into my brain-the blood, the lifeless slump of his body-it never got easier. It never would.

Ash’s voice snapped me back. “Archer, we need to move! Now!”

I stumbled forward, reaching for Liam's shotgun. The strap was caught on his arm, so I yanked out my knife, cutting it free. I slung the gun over my shoulder and shoved his pistol into my belt.

“Hurry up!” Ash barked, his voice tight with urgency. “We're drawing a crowd here!”

Adrenaline surged through me as we bolted back towards the safety of the walls, the sound of distant growls growing louder with every step.

I fired off a few rounds, but a sharp click of an empty magazine made my stomach drop. Ash didn't hesitate-he grabbed my sleeve, pulling me with him as we bolted into the open.

As we reached the clearing, my heart sank. A crowd of them had gathered ahead, shambling towards us, drawn by the echo of gunfire.

“Shit, they must've heard the shots!” I gasp, panic creeping into my voice.

Ash tightened his grip on my sleeve, his eyes darting around for an escape route. “We left the door open. We have to go. Now!”

We ran as fast as we could, my legs burning with every stride. A few of them lunged at me, cold hands grabbing my arms and clothes, but Ash yanked me free each time. His strength keeps me from being pulled down.

The school door came into view and Ash barreled through it practically dragging me in with him. I turned bracing against the door to slam it shut, but before I could several rotting hands shoved through the gap, clawing at the air.

“Let go of the door!” Ash shouted, his voice sharp and commanding.

I released my grip just as he fired off a few rounds. The deafening blasts echoing in the confined space. The hands slackened and Ash used the moment to shove them back, slamming the door shut with metallic clang.

I collapsed against the wall, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. But my mind was somewhere else-stuck on the haunting image of Liam, the shotgun under his chin, and the aftermath I couldn't unsee.

Ash crouched down, his piercing gaze meeting mine as I sat frozen on the floor. “Hey, you okay?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and forced myself to nod. “It…it never gets easier.” I muttered, my voice barely audible.

He offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. My legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but I forced myself to move, following him back towards the medic room in a heavy silence.

“Archer.” Ash said softly, breaking the quiet as we walked. “You should take a break. Just for a bit.”

I shook my head firmly. “If I stop working, we'll have more like that. More death. I can't let that happen.”

“Arch…” Ash's voice was tinged with concern, but I didn't let him finish.

“Just bring me some lunch in the medic room.” I said, trying to keep my tone steady, though my hands were trembling. “I'll eat there.”

Ash grabbed my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. Before I could react, he pulled me into a hug, his arms strong and steady, a solid anchor in the storm of my thoughts.

That's when I finally broke. The tears came fast, hot and uncontrollable, spilling out as my body shook. “I feel like I kill more people than I save!” I choked out, the words tearing their way free.

Ash held me tighter, his steady presence growing me. “You're doing everything you can.” He said, his voice low and soothing. “But you can't carry this alone, Archer.”

He pulled the door open and we walked in to see Kevin standing by the table cleaning up the blood from the amputation that didn't work. My mind instantly went to the amount of bandages that were wasted on him.. “Hey, Kevin, can you cover the medic room for the weekend? Archer needs a break.”

I didn't argue this time. For once, I let myself lean into Ash's strength as he guided me back, the weight of the day pressing down on both of us but feeling just a little lighter in his presence.

“Yeah, I think I can handle that.” Kevin said, his voice steady, but tired. “It's just the outpatients I need to check on. No one's in the main medic room anymore. Not since Ian.” He added, his gaze drifting towards the floor.

After checking some notes, we walked in silence for a few moments before finally reaching the room where we slept. It wasn't much-just a few cots we had managed to tie together, with gym mats beneath them for some semblance of comfort. It wasn't much, but it was ours.

Ash helped me onto one of the cots, his hands gentle on my shoulder as he settled me down. He looked at me with that familiar, steady gaze-one that always had a way of making everything seem less overwhelming, even when everything around us was falling apart.

“You take on so much responsibility.” He said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken concern. “It's no wonder you bury yourself in work. But we're going to make it, Archer.”

He sat beside me, his presence strong yet comforting, as if he could shield me from the world outside. I laid my head in his lap, feeling the tension in my body slowly dissolve as his fingers gently pat my side, a simple touch that made everything feel just a little bit easier.

I hadn't seen this side of Ash in so long-the one who wasn't just a fighter, but someone who cared deeply. It made me feel weak, vulnerable, but in the best way possible. I let myself melt into his care, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into my soul.

“We're going to be fine,” he muttered, his voice soft as he stroked my hair. “We just need to hold on a little longer. Maybe, just maybe, we'll find a sense of normalcy in this world painted red.”

His words were a balm to the fire that constantly burned in my chest, but even as I clung to them, the weight of everything threatened to pull me under. My eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, and soon the world began to fade to black.

Ash’s voice, soothing and constant, became a distant hum, drifting farther into the void as my body finally surrendered to the dark.

The world felt different when I woke up. The room was dark, shadows pooling in every corner, but through the window, I could see the sun hovering just above the treeline, painting the horizon in shades of orange and crimson. The peace didn’t last long. Distant screams and gunfire shattered the quiet, pulling me to the window. My stomach dropped.
A massive herd of Cadavers was swarming toward the school, their grotesque forms stumbling and lurching over one another in a frenzy. Just then, an explosion rocked the building, the force rattling the glass in the windowpanes. Black smoke curled into the air, and I spotted the damage: a gaping hole in the wall near the gymnasium.
The walkie crackled to life, a voice bursting through the static. “There goes another water pressure tank! I told you guys we needed to fix them, but no one listened to me!”
My chest tightened as I took in the chaos below. The herd was massive, more than I’d ever seen, and the explosion had only made things worse, tearing open our defenses and giving them an easy way in. I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, adrenaline coursing through me.
Outside the room, more voices echoed through the halls. “Get the injured and sick onto the buses! We have to leave now!” Scott Miller’s voice was unmistakable—firm and commanding, the kind of tone you’d expect from someone who was JROTC before the world fell apart.
I snatched my Winchester lever-action rifle from the wall, along with as much ammo as I could cram into my bag. The walkie erupted again, Scott shouting in panic. “The wall by the entrance is down! We need to—” His voice cut out, replaced by a loud crash and the terrifying screams of people being overrun.
“Give me a fucking break!” I shouted into the void, my heart pounding as I rushed into the hall. Where the hell was Ash?
The medic room was just down the corridor, the makeshift infirmary we’d set up in an old science lab. I shoved the door open and found Kevin inside, frantically loading supplies into a worn-out backpack. He barely glanced at me as he shoved another first-aid kit into the bag.
“I already packed up the essentials,” he said, his words spilling out in a panicked rush. “The meds, the lockbox, everything. The explosion shook the whole damn school, and the water pressure tanks—some of them blew!”
Before I could respond, Kevin yanked open the door to leave, only for a body to topple inside. We both froze as a kid tumbled through the doorway, dragging himself out from under a bloodied Cadaver. He yanked a meat cleaver from the creature’s skull, panting heavily.
It was Sam Wolfe, a kid younger than both of us but tough as nails. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror. “Jesus Christ!” he gasped. “They won’t stop coming! We’re not gonna make it to the evac buses. Do you have any idea how we’re getting out of here?”
The sound of the herd grew louder, the groans and snarls echoing like a death knell through the corridors
I chambered a round into my rifle, the metallic click loud in the suffocating silence. “We have to fight our way out,” I said firmly, glancing at Kevin, whose face had already gone pale. “Kevin, I know you don’t like being outside, but we don’t have a choice. We need to move—now!”
Without waiting for a response, I shoved the door open, and we plunged into the chaos. Gunfire erupted around us as we fought our way through the crowded halls. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the screams and groans, but I kept moving, my rifle kicking against my shoulder as I fired round after round.
As we neared a window, I caught sight of the last bus pulling away, its tires kicking up dust as it disappeared into the distance. My heart sank. “We take the woods,” I said, breathless but resolute. There was no time to dwell on the loss of our ride; survival demanded action.
We bolted down the back halls, the echoes of footsteps and the guttural sounds of Cadavers chasing us. When we reached the door Ash and I had used earlier, I pushed it open, and a gust of cold air hit my face. Before we could take another step, a group of students rushed toward us from the shadows.
I recognized them instantly: Emily, her younger sister Michelle, and Greg, their faces pale and drenched with sweat. Emily’s eyes were wide with fear, but her voice was steady. “We’re coming with you,” she said, leaving no room for argument.
I nodded, and together we sprinted out the back. The outdoor classroom loomed ahead, its worn benches and overturned desks now a graveyard of corpses. My stomach churned at the sight of the bodies sprawled across the dirt like broken dolls.
Greg didn’t hesitate. He bent down and hoisted a lifeless body over his shoulders, his expression grim. “Just hide. We’ll move when they clear out,” he hissed, his voice sharp with urgency.
I didn’t argue, though the bile rising in my throat nearly forced me to. “It’s either you die or stay quiet. We can live,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
Sam let out a dry gag beside me, his face contorted in horror. “Quiet!” I hissed, my voice barely above a whisper. With no other option, I dropped to the ground, grabbing the closest body. The stench of death hit me like a freight train, and my stomach lurched.
As I shifted the corpse, I froze. My chest tightened as I recognized the nub on the body’s side—it was Ian. My heart clenched, and my hands trembled as I pulled him over me. The cold, clammy weight pressed down on my chest, the unmistakable metallic tang of blood filling my nose.
Time dragged like molasses. Every second felt like an eternity as I lay there, the suffocating weight of Ian’s body making it hard to breathe. Around me, the sounds of the herd were deafening—the shuffling of feet, the guttural moans, the occasional crash of something breaking.
I cracked one eye open and saw Sam a few feet away, his face pale and his body shaking as he fought the urge to vomit. His gagging grew louder, and panic surged through me. I raised a trembling finger to my lips, my eyes locking with his. Be quiet. My only thought as I am under the body and hearing them shuffling towards the school. Where is Ash?

(Ash's POV)

My legs were on fire, burning with every step as I bolted down the cracked, debris-covered road. The fading sun dipped low behind the tree line, casting the world in hues of orange and red. My chest heaved with exertion, but I forced myself to keep moving.
“Hurry, over here, Scott!” I yelled over my shoulder, spotting a beat-up charter bus sitting lopsided on the side of the road. The sight of it was a glimmer of hope in the chaos. I sprinted toward it, my boots skidding on loose gravel as I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.
Scott stumbled in after me, his face pale and drenched with sweat. I slammed the door shut just as a handful of Cadavers reached it, their decayed bodies slamming into the glass with dull, sickening thuds.
“Jesus… holy fuck,” Scott wheezed, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. “I can’t believe the place fell that fast. How the hell did we even make it out of there?”
I glanced at him, trying to steady my own breathing. “Shut up and get down,” I snapped. “We wait for the herd to pass.”
Without another word, we both dropped to the grimy floor of the bus. The inside smelled faintly of mildew and oil, and the metal beneath my hands was cold.
“How many rounds you got, Scott?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
He groaned, letting his pistol slip from his fingers to the floor with a hollow clunk. “I ain’t got shit,” he muttered, leaning back against the base of one of the seats. His jeans were torn, and his leg was swollen and discolored.
I shifted my gaze to Veronica, who was sitting nearby with her pistol clutched tightly in her hands. Her knuckles were white, and she stared straight ahead, unblinking. “What about you, V?” I asked.
She blinked, snapping out of her daze, and popped the magazine out of her pistol. “Six bullets,” she said flatly. “That’s it. But I’ve still got my machete, and that doesn’t run out of ammo.” Her voice was shaky, and she let out a bitter laugh as she wiped tears and soot from her face.
I didn’t have time to comfort her. Outside, the horizon glowed with the inferno consuming the school. Flames licked at the night sky, the smoke turning it into a dark, churning abyss. The stench of burning wood and flesh seeped into the bus, making my stomach churn.
Scott stared out the window, his expression grim. “Ain’t no way anyone else made it out of there,” he muttered, his voice heavy with defeat.
I clenched my jaw, trying to push away the knot of fear and guilt forming in my chest. “People made it out,” I said firmly, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself. “We trained them to hide and fight. If we got out, others did too. They’re alive. They have to be.”
Scott turned his gaze to me, skeptical. I didn’t care. “I need to find Archer,” I said, my voice softer now. “When I heard the herd was coming, I tried to get to him, but I got stuck near the gym. I saw Greg and Alex heading for the back halls, but…” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Then I ran into you two, and I couldn’t make it to him. But he’s out there. I know he is.”
Scott let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “He’s as good as dead to us right now, Ash. There’s no way to know if he’s alive. Not unless Greg or Alex have walkies—or if Archer knows exactly where you’d go. The school’s at the edge of the city. He could be anywhere.”
I didn’t respond, my fists clenching as I stared out the window at the herd shambling toward the blaze. Their groans were faint but carried on the wind like an unsettling melody. I felt helpless, but I couldn’t afford to let it show.
Veronica stood, brushing dirt off her pants as she peered out the window. “Either way,” she said quietly, “we need to rest. We’ll need it in the morning.”
I nodded numbly, leaning my head against the cold metal of the seat frame. The bus fell silent except for the faint crackle of fire and the distant groans of the Cadavers. I tried to close my eyes, but every time I did, I saw Archer’s face. He was out there somewhere, and I had to believe he was alive.
Because if I didn’t… I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to keep going.