either side of the door.
“They can’t see us through the glass,” I mutter, stepping back. “And if we keep quiet, they can’t hear us either.”
“What about smell?” Cass asks.
I frown. “What is it with you and zombies smelling us?”
“I’ve seen movies where they can sniff out the living,” he says.
“Well, let’s hope they all had really bad colds when they were turned,” I growl and we all squat quietly.
Screams in the corridor. Sounds of fighting. Someone slams into the glass and it rattles. At first I think it’s a zombie trying to break through, but it must have just been someone crashing into it, because there aren’t any more assaults on the window.
“Please don’t eat me!” I hear a kid beg. “Please don’t eat me! Please don’t–”
A high-pitched shriek. I shut my eyes and feel tears build behind my eyelids. This can’t be happening. Zombies aren’t real. Pallaskenry was a joke. We were so sneery, laughing about it in class, coming up with alternative theories. I must be dreaming. Babies will come crawling over the desks any minute now, calling me their mummy, and I’ll know it’s a nightmare.
But that’s wishful thinking. This is reality. I always know when I’m having a dream. No matter how real it seems at the time, it never feels completely real. This does.
I open my eyes and look around. Everyone’s shaking and either crying or close to it. La Lips is clinging to Copper, weeping as he whispers soothing words in her ear. Linzer’s praying. She’s not the only one—Dunglop, Tyler, Ballydefeck and two of the Muslims are also openly praying. I figure some of the others are too, but privately.
Pox is squatting a couple of feet away from the rest of us, weeping over his wounds, shaking his head, muttering something under his breath. Cass is keeping an eye on him, flick knife open and glinting, ready to leap on Pox at the first sign that he’s turning into a zombie.
“You know the worst thing about this?” Elephant whispers. When a few of us stare at him, he says glumly, “It ruined my comeback.”
I stifle a giggle. “Idiot!” I snort.
“You were crap anyway,” Meths says.
“Was not,” Elephant growls.
“We need a plan,” Trev says, and we look at him expectantly. “We can’t just go charging about the place.”
“So what should we do?” Cass asks.
“Stay here,” Trev says. “Keep our heads down. Wait for the police to find us.”
“But in Pallaskenry–” Copper starts to object.
“This isn’t Pallaskenry,” Trev snaps. “It’s a school. They’re not going to stand by and let soldiers kill a load of kids. There’d be riots if they did. They’ll come as soon as they can, flush out the place, protect the survivors. If we can stay hidden for an hour or two, that’s all we’ll need. Maybe less.”
We consider Trev’s plan.
“If police and soldiers raid the school,” Linzer says, “we’d be safer here than out there. They shot anyone who moved in Ireland. They won’t know who’s a zombie and who isn’t, and they won’t want to take chances.”
“It’ll be a free-for-all,” Copper agrees.
“But if the zombies find us first…” Stagger Lee mutters. “I say we make a break for it. Head for the stairs, get to the floor above, find the exit, let ourselves out, don’t look back.”
“What if that door’s shut too?” one of the Muslim boys asks.
“It won’t be,” Stagger Lee says.
“The one by the gym was,” the Muslim reminds him.
“That was bad luck,” Stagger Lee says. “There’s no chance that two of the exits will be jammed at the same time.”
“Who says it was luck?” the Muslim asks. “Am I the only one who thinks this is too much of a coincidence? The janitors check those doors regularly—they have to be sure they’re working, in case of a fire. And on the very day we need them, one just happens to be stuck? I don’t buy it.”
“What are you talking about?” Trev snaps.
“Someone
“They can’t see us through the glass,” I mutter, stepping back. “And if we keep quiet, they can’t hear us either.”
“What about smell?” Cass asks.
I frown. “What is it with you and zombies smelling us?”
“I’ve seen movies where they can sniff out the living,” he says.
“Well, let’s hope they all had really bad colds when they were turned,” I growl and we all squat quietly.
Screams in the corridor. Sounds of fighting. Someone slams into the glass and it rattles. At first I think it’s a zombie trying to break through, but it must have just been someone crashing into it, because there aren’t any more assaults on the window.
“Please don’t eat me!” I hear a kid beg. “Please don’t eat me! Please don’t–”
A high-pitched shriek. I shut my eyes and feel tears build behind my eyelids. This can’t be happening. Zombies aren’t real. Pallaskenry was a joke. We were so sneery, laughing about it in class, coming up with alternative theories. I must be dreaming. Babies will come crawling over the desks any minute now, calling me their mummy, and I’ll know it’s a nightmare.
But that’s wishful thinking. This is reality. I always know when I’m having a dream. No matter how real it seems at the time, it never feels completely real. This does.
I open my eyes and look around. Everyone’s shaking and either crying or close to it. La Lips is clinging to Copper, weeping as he whispers soothing words in her ear. Linzer’s praying. She’s not the only one—Dunglop, Tyler, Ballydefeck and two of the Muslims are also openly praying. I figure some of the others are too, but privately.
Pox is squatting a couple of feet away from the rest of us, weeping over his wounds, shaking his head, muttering something under his breath. Cass is keeping an eye on him, flick knife open and glinting, ready to leap on Pox at the first sign that he’s turning into a zombie.
“You know the worst thing about this?” Elephant whispers. When a few of us stare at him, he says glumly, “It ruined my comeback.”
I stifle a giggle. “Idiot!” I snort.
“You were crap anyway,” Meths says.
“Was not,” Elephant growls.
“We need a plan,” Trev says, and we look at him expectantly. “We can’t just go charging about the place.”
“So what should we do?” Cass asks.
“Stay here,” Trev says. “Keep our heads down. Wait for the police to find us.”
“But in Pallaskenry–” Copper starts to object.
“This isn’t Pallaskenry,” Trev snaps. “It’s a school. They’re not going to stand by and let soldiers kill a load of kids. There’d be riots if they did. They’ll come as soon as they can, flush out the place, protect the survivors. If we can stay hidden for an hour or two, that’s all we’ll need. Maybe less.”
We consider Trev’s plan.
“If police and soldiers raid the school,” Linzer says, “we’d be safer here than out there. They shot anyone who moved in Ireland. They won’t know who’s a zombie and who isn’t, and they won’t want to take chances.”
“It’ll be a free-for-all,” Copper agrees.
“But if the zombies find us first…” Stagger Lee mutters. “I say we make a break for it. Head for the stairs, get to the floor above, find the exit, let ourselves out, don’t look back.”
“What if that door’s shut too?” one of the Muslim boys asks.
“It won’t be,” Stagger Lee says.
“The one by the gym was,” the Muslim reminds him.
“That was bad luck,” Stagger Lee says. “There’s no chance that two of the exits will be jammed at the same time.”
“Who says it was luck?” the Muslim asks. “Am I the only one who thinks this is too much of a coincidence? The janitors check those doors regularly—they have to be sure they’re working, in case of a fire. And on the very day we need them, one just happens to be stuck? I don’t buy it.”
“What are you talking about?” Trev snaps.
“Someone
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