Last Dawn of a Horde - Chapter Three: The Hope Hole

LAST DAWN OF A HORDE

Chapter Three: The Hope Hole

~John~

            Everyone was disarrayed by the screams that only lasted for barely two seconds. Long and loud enough to let us hear.

            "No," I mutter under my breath as we stood and closed the windows. "The death call."

            Many uttered words of discomforts and anxieties, but as chatters about the decided death call faded, I called another meeting with my classmates. They were thinking about the same thing—the fourth group was all dead. As we look through the window, it was confirmed—streaks of light pour down the grounds below, and a group of undead was forming within the area laden with feeble, shaking bodies. No matter how we try to ignore the loud groans made by the hungry zombies, it tears through our head—the sound probably we will hear last before we die in their hands.

            Just a few cry babies were crying in fear, but the death call made a blazing fire inside the students hungry for revenge. Hungry avenging for their dead relatives and friends. It's no use of keeping the plumbing secret now, but I just told my remaining classmates about it.

            They were all stunned until they came into agreeing.

            The Joseph's University was a wide and large school, able to administer thousands of students, giving all the necessities of living while the students are there to study. Like any other school, it has a wide, underground plumbing system considered to be environment friendly. Instead of leaking, the waste products coming from the school goes to the underground twenty-meter radius pipe accompanied by countless small pipes. This system connects to the greenery of the school and to some street pipes, usually leading to water treatment facilities of Faber City. In this good, economic process, it ensures a decrease in environment pollution, but will give a remarkable increase, eventually, in nature growth.

            This short analysis of the underground pipes chills me. It was true, and I hate this—I remembered about this when it was too late. This explains the escape of some zombies to the streets and the sudden drop of their numbers here inside the school. Now it doesn't matter how they opened the underground gates, unless...

            A crazy idea.

            If not the gates surrounded by the waiting undead, the underground plumbing system is the way out of this earthly hell.

            "No, that's absurd, John," says Jimmy upon hearing another hope of escape.

            "I'll rather take the gates, and fight through the dead morons," says Rich, clutching one of Principal's shotguns tight in his hands.

            Den gives her disapproval too. "It may be a method, but no one would want to explore that smelly cave-like place."

            I nod at every comment, but I never let go of my plan. Not until my own best friend, James, opposes my plan.

            "Look, John," he began. "It may be a way, but I'm sure there's another good one. And who ensures that the largest pipe is empty right now?"

            I can't hold myself.

            "Me," I tell them. "Apart from me, who knows that the school flushes the dirty water to the outer pipes by six? Who cannot derive from that fact—the path is empty by now?"

            No one from my classmates responds. Maybe they weren't used to hear John Eddington talk like this. Or show off how smart he is. Maybe I wasn't, too.

            Andrea, the long-haired girl, was braiding her long hair when she said, "Maybe John's right. No one must've used the toilets after the outbreak, right? And about the flushing thing? It's now eight."

            I'm glad no one checked the time if it's really eight, and more glad that somebody got my point. Add into it, I was one of the bullies of her life.

            Then because of her, finally they all agreed—James, Den, Rich, Matthew, Jasmine, Suzanne and Jimmy. But that doesn't guarantee their approval to our pathway now. Going underground the school when we know everywhere than here is dangerous.

            One student from the third group, Amber, approached us without saying anything. I didn't notice her before, because from all of us, she's the only grader. Third grade still.

            Eek.
            "Brother! Where do I put my socks?"

            I turned around, and saw her holding her long white socks in her stubby little hands. I respond sluggishly, "In the laundry basket, Emma."

            Emma smiled at me. "Are the grade four teachers kind?"

            I looked stunned. "Why asking that?"

            "I'm excited," says my little sister. "I'm gonna be grade four, right?"

            I went to disarray her hair. "Sure, you little kiddo."

            Seeing someone young and innocent like her crushes me down to my knees. Children too young to die and yet, got killed mindlessly—it's a disgust. It only makes me miss my family more...

            No. I can't let back down. This girl will live, I decided it. I'll let her live and she'll not die like the other children we weren't able to protect. At least, I saved one innocent child from early death...

            "What's happening? I want to go home," says the little girl, tears about to fall from her eyes.

            I gave my classmates a stern look, and then I knelt before the little girl. This is the only time I realized not all of the students here with us are teenagers. There's not much of innocence left to people of my age.

            "We are just here for...a school activity," I lied. And I am not good at lying—especially to someone as small as her.

            The girl's eyes were filled with tears and her voice was gurgled. "Then why are they covered with smelly stuff? And they have guns?" She points at the other survivors, and they are yes, covered in green and red sticky stuff, and they were caressing a gun as if their life was already embedded on them.

            "I-It's a part of the school event, z-zombie day. Whoever g-gets caught will be out of the game, and who survives untouched will win," I lied at her again. And it was a big lie. I don't know if she believed about my great, invented 'school game,' but for someone of her age—it'll calm her a bit.

            Andrea and Den turned away from us, and then I guessed they were crying as well, wanting no one to hear it. I can't help but embody my sisters within little Amber. Full of hope even she's doubtful about my lies.

            I was about to let tears fall from my eyes, but no; I told them don't fall, ever. No good boy cries at this point of crisis. My classmates tap Amber for comfort, then she asks, "Sure we'll go home tomorrow? And there's a winner?"

            I nod as I wipe her eyes with my clean handkerchief. "We will. We'll be the winner."

           

            Nine o'clock, and Den and Andrea and Suzanne were able to drift little Amber to sleep. I know I did huge mistakes, like giving out poor, false hopes and unnerving lies, but at least I gave her little hope. Just enough that she won't question me about the so-realistic dying of numerous students and their turning into horrible walkers.

            Since Amber was from the third group, Jasmine told me all about what little she knew about the little girl. Jasmine's the only female classmate alive with Amber on the third group.

            I haven't seen Amber on the Office because of her size. And because of my confusion about things, I didn't try to look at everyone inside with me. Before the outbreak, Amber was on the cafeteria eating with some of her classmates at such early time. When the undead occupied the cafeteria before noon, she was ignorantly walking through the grounds and halls. Luckily not a single undead was pursuing her, and she was seen by the group of students with Rich, who got the keys of the Office from the guard house.

            That explains everything.

            The metal door banged from behind, suddenly leaving some of us terrified. Well, James and I were probably thinking about the same thing—if those were the zombies, we can't go out. The night's so dark, only the dim lighting inside the room illuminates the terrible, scared faces of the survivors.

            Rich goes by the door. "Who's there?"

            We expected no response at all, but then, someone screamed from the other side.

~James~

            “C-Come on! It’s me, Sophie! Open this damn door or else they’ll eat us!”

            It really was Sophie, but there was the obvious tone of fear in her voice. The last time I heard fear in her voice is when our Math teacher Mrs. Berry had called her for a hard math question—something she fearlessly and correctly answered.

            “P-Password!” Rich yells.

            I nudged Rich on my way into opening the heavy metal door. “Come on, do we need something like that in this urgent time?”

            Rich looked obnoxious as he backs down.

            I opened the door, and four people crashed on John and me.

            There was Sophie, her hair covering her face, and her uniform so dirty her mother wouldn’t like washing; I recognize the other faces—Joanna, Lance, and Craft, who looked as terrible as Sophie. Sophie ran towards John, and she had dropped the cleaver she was carrying.

            John was doing everything to comfort her. He tapped her back as Sophie sobbed hard. Rich and Jimmy checked the stairs from the door, then shut the door close after checking everything’s alright.

            Joanna, the senior I met just today, sat on one corner and she was balling her fists as I had heard her sobbing too. Lance and Craft, her classmates, looked at me like they didn’t have good news to deliver. One plus two... Something's not right.

            Joseph.

            “Where is Joseph?” I asked Lance.

            Lance looked sullen. “He’s…gone.”

            After tending little Amber, Suzanne made her way to us. “So the fourth group had only four students left? Another six died…”

            Suzanne kept her head down, but on the corner of my eye, I saw Joanna’s head going up, looking at me. No, at Suzanne.

            With one quick sprint, she bolted towards Suzanne and strangled my classmate. All left in shock, we are so occupied to react; we just saw two girls on the cooking table with one about to kill the other.

            John and I rushed to them, and Joanna struggled from our hold like she still wanted to kill Suzanne. Awake students panic, their screams about to wake the asleep ones. My other classmates helped us to take reckless Joanna away from Suzanne. Rich, after rummaging his backpack, got a syringe.

            “Get away!” he cried. He lunged towards Joanna, and before we can make out something, the syringe’s content was flushed inside of her.

            All John can scoff was: “Rich! What was that?!”

            Rich looked conscious of himself, but he said, “This is tranquilizer powered with sleep pills! I saw some on Principal Guns’ store! That woman needs to calm down!”

            From my side, Lance didn’t like what Rich said. He stood up, and pushed Rich out of his balance. Rich, in his recoil, pushed him harder. The next thing happened was that Lance started to pin the fat boy to the ground and he started to punch him.

            “You morons, stop it now!” John yelled, his face going red. Andrea and Den came to carry Joanna’s body, and placed her next to a wall adjacent to closets.

            Craft had rescued the defenseless Rich, and then John bellowed, “IF YOU DON’T STOP, I’LL SEND BOTH OF YOU DOWN TO DIE AN EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATH!”

            Silence followed. John had completely lost his temper.

            Lance had his stand. “And who are you to lead us, smarty pants?”

            John stopped. His chest heaved up and down, and his fists were clenched. “I am the president of the star senior class, and don’t you dare question me!”

            That surely got Lance. I want to butt in, not that I don’t want other students get mad at me too, but I don't see the point of involving myself—unless if it was to stop it. I can't.

            Lance quickly made up his mind. He grabbed Craft’s wrist, and motioned his way to the door. “Let’s go, Craft. We’ll leave this hell. Maybe Joseph will spare us if he sees us outside.”

            Joseph was dead. In a matter of minutes, unless his body was torn to bits, he’ll be back to life. Well, almost to life. Oh, surely Lance won't believe that crap his friend will not attack him.

            Joanna was unconscious, but Lance did not dare take a step to cross John and get her. Maybe that’s why Joanna was furious to Suzanne a while ago.

            Craft did not budge. He looked at us as if he doesn’t want to leave.

            Lance pulled harder. “Come on! These intelligent people will never understand slow learners like us. They think they are million leagues from us.”

            John looked like he was to attack him, but it was me who pulled him. I’m sure he won’t give his best friend a punch intended to harm. Or to break my nose.

            I whispered to John. “No, we’ll need everyone we can, John. If they leave…then their death will haunt us forever.”

            John didn’t answer.

            We watch Lance and Craft open the metal door; looking reluctant about leaving, Craft gave me a worried look—for him and his friend. Craft doesn’t want to leave, but when Jimmy had closed the metal door, we all know there’s no more way we are still concerned or even connected for their lives.

~John~

            I didn’t want to take issues of any kind; I showed no reaction for that scumbag Lance and Craft’s departure. Something about Lance really angered me, and I think he deserves to die in the hands of the zombies outside. Ten minutes since they left, we heard nothing peculiar, so it means they are still alive.

            We go to plan the plumbing system. Now all I want is to get out of this dying, stinking school. Whatever that was left on the outside world, I don’t care—for as long as our families are all fine, I will feel so alive.

            Jimmy suggested where the entrance of the plumbing system was, and that gave us enough to move. Actually, the place he suggested was the door next to the bathrooms, and the bathrooms are about a minute away from here.

            Of course, nothing we will do to survive is not risky. My classmates had figured out there’s no more use for negations, and they agreed at once.

            We check the time, and when I see it’s already two in the morning, I quickly asked everyone to assemble as I tell the next move.

            Everyone was listening except for Amber, who was soundly asleep. I keep my voice low and clear, but I can’t say I didn’t have any fear for this.

            “Guys…Now for the headcount,” I began, “the first group was complete twelve, and the second was a complete set of twelve too. The third and fourth… twenty in all...twelve were dead.”

            It didn’t come out well. The students went on chattering frantically again, and our headcount was thirty. Two of my classmates are dead. Two people left. Before the chatters die out, all I can ask myself is what happened to our other classmates. We were forty in all, but we are only ten here. And from that ten, fortunately, more than half was functional.

            Handling twenty-nine lives with you wasn’t as easy as answering a level ten trigonometry question mentally, you know.

            It was still dark outside, and I was hoping for Dawn to come. I don’t know, but I don’t feel comfortable without the sun and its light and warmth. Being in the school for almost twenty hours with no sleep probably can be the best thing to have for a punishment, but if our lives are at stake, then it’s not a punishment.

            A death sentence.

            The girls wake up Amber, and before she can ask for another set of explanations from us, we all carefully went down from the cafeteria’s second floor. Away from safety.

            My remaining classmates, James, Sophie, Rich, Matthew, Jimmy, Den, Andrea, Suzanne, and Jasmine were walking with the other students. I admit the others were just a burden to us, but I figured out there’s no way of leaving them.

            Joanna was awake, but then I doubt if it really was tranquilizer that has been shot into her. She was really quiet, and I didn’t hear a word from her. She walks slowly, and if it wasn’t for my classmate’s care for life, I will decide of leaving her.

            My heart was pounding so hard, and I dared not to open my flashlight. It was the only one we can use. We see a couple of zombies, and we were ready to attack them. Then it occurred to me—maybe noise and light will distract them. So it’s good we stayed dark.

            James was on my side, clutching the cleaver Sophie was carrying with her when their group had entered our hideout.

            Then when we are so near from the door Jimmy told us about, the thirty of us were all stopped at the sight of several zombies blocking the door. Fear flooded into me—their number can oust us so quick.

            I dared not to move and crash into something. I whispered to the troop, “Don’t talk, keep yourselves low, and we’ll head the other way.”

            The others got it, and I felt a slight surge of relief as we are doing good.

            Well, not so good maybe.

            Amber, while clutching Den’s hand, had pointed the zombies and said loudly, “Hey! I think that’s my cousin!”

            "What the—?" I murmured.

            Hell broke.

            I realized the zombies were entering the door one by one, but upon hearing Amber, they all growled and they came for us.

            Panic was set into everyone, and our line broke as the others ran just to be pounced by the undead. I tried to get my classmates while the infected pounced on the others, but the zombies who are about to enter the sewers came back.

            Weapons were useful.

            James had kicked the zombie that had lunged for him squarely in its chest, and then he chopped off its head using his cleaver. Blood spurted out onto his face, but he smiled at me, telling me he’s fine. Den and Andrea caught my eyes, but they’re not carrying Amber with them now.

            “Where’s the little girl?” I asked them, as I beckoned my classmates to retreat and hide behind the nearby tree.

            Andrea looked anguish. “I-I lost grip, and she ran away!”

            There’s no more time to lose.

            Morning wasn’t here yet, but this area of the school sounded so awake. Screams everywhere and you can hear footsteps trampling like Noah’s Ark had just been emptied of its animals. The others, Rich, Jimmy, Suzanne, Jasmine, Joanna, Matthew and Sophie had met the four of us hiding.

            “Where are we going now, John?” Rich asked frantically while looking around nervously.

            Well, I reckon we still need to get away from this school. I just felt sorry for the others who are being eaten by now, but I knew I can do nothing to help them.

            When one zombie had found us, Rich had tripped it, and the zombie landed face-first on hard ground. I was about to warn him not to get near so we can crush it, he jumped and landed on the zombie, his buttocks aiming to crush the zombie’s head.

            “Rich!” Sophie yelled worriedly. We had all stood up from hiding, and Rich joined us. We’re now eleven, but I reckon the onslaught brought hundreds of zombies.

            James nudged me hard. “John, we need to fight through them! Look, the zombies from the grounds are coming! If they all assembled here, we’ll not make it until sunlight comes!”

            I nodded. Then we fought our way against about forty zombies guarding the plumbing system door.

            I used the shotgun I found on Principal Guns’ Office, and I always aimed for their heads. I figured out something was wrong—even though they were headless, they can still stand and grope for somebody. So what I told Rich, Matthew and Jimmy—the ones with me using their guns—was to shoot the zombies by their heads.

            I don’t know if that worked, but sure it brought zombies down. I’ve watched zombie movies before, and they were all different from each other. Well, recalling those movies wouldn’t help now.

            Den had a wooden mop with her, and she skewered the infected by their heart, as she throws them on the thorned bushes nearby. Andrea had her long hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she was using the heavy frying pan to whack on the zombies. James did that bag-flinging action again, and it sent the infected flying away and crush themselves. Sophie was throwing bottles of some chemicals, and when I saw the zombies that were hit, I realized she was throwing hydrochloric acid, and it made the rotting flesh bubble like crazy.

            “I got it on the cafeteria. Awesome, right?” she asked me with a smile.

            I nodded.

            Suzanne was carrying a metal pole, and she was swinging it against the zombies. Some crashed on one another, while some of her hits got their heads off. When we saw the zombies are already down—but definitely not dead—I yelled “Let’s go to the hole!” before the zombies approaching can even reach us. Jimmy and Matthew locked the door, and darkness swallowed us.

            I’ve never been here before. And so do the others. After that door we’ve locked and barricaded with things we could grab, was another void that's too dark for us to see.

            “Flashlight,” I muttered. I turned it on, and saw that the hole had a metal cover—some kind of sealed cover that needs more than force, and the kind of cover you’ll see in sensitive laboratories.

            We ran along the space, and we stopped by the hole. With a little panic, Den asked, “How to open this? Neither of us has gone here before!”

            She said the truth.

            I observed the door cover, and it had a wheel—if you had seen submarines before, the entrance was like this—built to be airtight.

            When we hushed up, something I heard made me hopeful.

            “This is the entrance,” I murmured.

            “No, this can’t be,” James said.

            Then I think I know what he means. If the cover was sealed, then how is it possible that the zombies have used this as an entrance?

            “Yeah, I think I know what you’ll say,” I told him. Then I told them what I think.

            “Maybe Riggins thought the entrance was just one! Maybe the school has other entrance for the sewage!” Matthew beamed, as he fixed his glasses to his nose bridge.

            I nod. “We need to open this.”

~James~

            I helped my best friend open the cover, but when I had thought it will just budge like a regular driving wheel, no. It was tight like it hadn’t been opened for years.

            John smiled as he said, “Are those scratching sounds from the door I hear?”

            Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, they had seen us going here.”

            We turned the wheel harder, and then it budged. John looked so happy for himself. “Yes, I know I’ve been hearing water flowing.”

            I thought sewers are just stinky, but when we finally indulged the smell of the hole, it was smelling like a lot of bodies were rotting and flowing amidst the waters, mixed with other dirty, foul-smelling things I can’t name. It’s worse than the stinkiest socks ever. And probably the place you won't want to return to.

            John looked amused seeing all of us cover our noses and mouths. “What, you all expecting daisies and roses? Come on, let’s get down.”

            If our lives weren’t at stake, I’ll choose detention with Mr. Riggins than going down the school’s underground sewer. I tried not to look on the flowing wastes—consisting of human excretions and toiletries and other things being flushed down the toilet. Rats are squeaking from nowhere, and I was very vocal for my phobia on rats.

            John was the very first to go down, so he’s on the bottom of the ladder. Yes, I forgot to mention the ladder—under the other side of the cover door was a ladder extending down to the sewer’s floor. I bet it’s about my knee-length, but Jimmy told us that on one full day, the water’s higher than us.

            The ladder’s steps smell like rotting diapers, and they were very oily. I told myself not to try smell my hands after this climb. John was chuckling on the very bottom, and then I realized how big and wide a twenty-meter radius pipe was.

            When we were all finally down, we cursed every curse we knew as we wipe the grime from our hands. We’re now amidst of the flowing murky waters. I feel slightly lukewarm water trickling our legs.

            “John!” Sophie yelled warningly, “I swear if we got out of here alive I’ll flush you down on my toilet!”

            John laughed. “Seriously?”

            I was right—the water was in level of our knees. But for someone tall like John, the water didn’t even reach his knees yet. My shoes soaked up everything, and I still didn’t count substances dripping from the high ceiling of the pipe. The current was assisting us, but I will never, ever swim in this water. I swear I felt something assembling by my submerged knees.

            Then Andrea suddenly screamed as if her hair’s been cut. “JOHN! I swear my feet caught up something soft and smelly bomb!”

            John chortled. He went to her, and he pulled her hair from its ponytail.

            “John!” Andrea cursed.

            Rich was having a hard time taking his balance on as the current was going fast. I noticed something bothersome.

            “Hey, John,” I beckoned my best friend.

            John raised an eyebrow. “What?”

            “Those holes—the other pipes,” I said, pointing to the smaller holes on left and right of the pipe we are in.

            John’s eyes widened as if he saw something I can’t.

            “Guys hold on to me!” John suddenly cried out.

            Bewildered, the others held on each other. With Rich and our overall weight, the current carried us no more. Of course when John gets serious, all of us get worried.

            “What’s the matter, John?” Suzanne asked.

            “The main pipe had branches,” John explained. “We need to choose the right way to the treatments.”

            That was imperative.

            We walk arm in arm as we check each hole attached on the sides of the main sewer pipe. The way continued endlessly, and it was hard to decide where we should go.

            I felt like my heart was about to burst in nervousness.

            John frowned. “T-The z-zombies are down here, too,” he mumbled.