CHAPTER 40: LEAVING LEXINGTON CHARTER [1]

The screams had stopped.

That terrible, agonizing silence that followed was somehow worse than the sounds themselves had been. For what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, we had listened to the desperate cries echoing up from the library below—ten people who hadn’t made it up the makeshift rope of tied blazers in time, trapped as the infected finally broke through our barricades.

The computer lab felt like a tomb now, filled with twenty survivors who sat in stunned silence. Some had pressed their hands over their ears during the worst of it, trying to block out the screams for help that gradually transformed into something far more horrible. Others had simply stared at the floor, their faces pale and haunted by sounds that would likely follow them for the rest of their lives—however long those might be.

I found myself frozen in place near the broken window, my hands still bleeding from the glass cuts, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the images flashing through my mind like a twisted slideshow. The faces the two students kept appearing before my eyes. The way they had looked up at me with desperate hope as they struggled with the rope. The terror in their expressions when they realized they weren’t going to make it in time. The way one of them had reached out his hand toward me even as the infected swarmed over him...

"Hey."

A gentle poke to my cheek brought me back to the present. I turned to find Sydney.

"It wasn’t your fault," she said.

"Yeah..."

Sydney sighed. "You’re overthinking again, Ryan. You do this thing where you analyze every single decision, every word you speak, every action you take. It’s kind of endearing in a weird way, but if you keep questioning yourself like this, you won’t last long." She reached out and tapped my forehead with her index finger. "Maybe your body will survive, but your mind won’t."

I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the wisdom behind her blunt words. Sydney had always been the most pragmatic person I knew—sometimes ruthlessly so—but she was also usually right.

"You are right," I admitted, managing a bitter smile. "I am thinking too much, aren’t I?"

The truth was, I’d always been this way. Even before the virus, before my awakening, before everything went to hell, I had a tendency to second-guess myself into paralysis. It was probably why I’d never been particularly popular or successful with anything that required quick decisions or bold action.

"Instead of focusing on the lives lost, focus on the lives saved by your twisted idea," Sydney said, grabbing my arm and turning me to face the rest of the room. "Look."

I followed her gaze across the computer lab, taking in the faces of the twenty people who were still breathing because of the escape plan I’d improvised.

Yeah she was right.

The harsh reality was that I couldn’t save everyone. I wasn’t some superhero from a comic book or action movie. I was just a guy with some enhanced abilities trying to survive in a world that had suddenly become a nightmare. As cruel as it sounded, I was grateful that none of the people I truly cared about had been among those we’d lost.

"W...what do we do now?" The question came from one of them.

The deaths of their fellows had cast a pall over the entire group. Where before there had been nervous energy and desperate hope, now there was only a hollow numbness that seemed to press down on everyone.

"On the rooftop, there’s an emergency staircase that leads down to the back of the building," Tobias said, stepping forward to address the group. "We take those stairs, find cars in the parking lot, and get the hell out of here."

"As expected of Tobias!" Someone called out from the back of the room.

"Yeah, that’s a solid plan!" Another voice added.

Several students gathered around him.

He was just repeating what I had told Christopher to tell them though.

Liu Mei spoke at that time. "That would be wonderful," she said, "if you happen to have enough cars and keys for all us, that’s it."

In all the excitement of having an escape plan, they’d forgotten about the practical limitations of actually executing it.

Thankfully though with Sydney’s car and the car of the Director we had enough for at least our group.

"I have my own car," Tobias said.

"I have one too!" Another said.

A few other voices chimed in—mostly older students who had been driving for a year or two, plus Miss Ivy, the nurse also had one. But even with all the available vehicles, we needed to get until the cars in question.

"We need to leave now," I said, moving toward the cluster of people I actually cared about. Rachel was still sitting near Rebecca, Jason, and Cindy, while Christopher hovered nearby thoughtfully. I caught Elena’s eye and gave her a small nod, watching as she gathered Alisha and Daisy closer to our informal group.

"Look, it’s the apocalypse," Sydney said. "We need to take care of ourselves first. Anyone who wants to risk their life trying to find transportation for people they barely know is welcome to do so, but don’t expect the rest of us to stick around and get eaten while you play Good Samaritan."

I had to admire her directness. Sydney never bothered with social niceties or comforting lies. She said exactly what she thought, consequences be damned, and while it sometimes made her seem harsh, it also meant you always knew where you stood with her.

"That’s... that’s right," Elena said quietly.

Sydney’s sharp gaze fixed on me with laser-like intensity. "And I’m talking to you specifically, Ryan."

"Me?" I blinked in surprise.

"Yes, you." She crossed her arms and gave me the kind of look that suggested she could see right through any pretense I might try to put up. "You have this annoying hero complex that’s going to get you killed if you’re not careful. I can see it in your eyes—you’re already thinking about how to save everyone, aren’t you?"

"W—What? I won’t," I said quickly.

I wasn’t that heroic at all.

But Sydney’s knowing look suggested she wasn’t buying my reassurance any more than I was. She knew me well enough to recognize the internal struggle between my survival instincts and whatever remained of my moral compass.

The truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure what kind of person I was becoming. The old Ryan—the one who had existed before the virus, before the awakening, before the world ended—might have tried to save everyone regardless of the personal cost. But that Ryan had been weak, indecisive, easily manipulated by appeals to his better nature.

This new version of me, enhanced by whatever was happening inside my body, seemed to have a much clearer understanding of priorities. Rachel, Rebecca, Elena, Sydney, Alisha, Christopher—these people mattered. The others... well, I didn’t wish them harm, but I wasn’t going to sacrifice the people I had some connection to to save strangers.

It was a harsh calculus, but the world had become a harsh place. Survival required making difficult choices, and I was beginning to understand that the luxury of trying to save everyone was something the old world could afford, but the new one couldn’t.

Besides, there was another factor that I hadn’t mentioned to anyone yet—something that made staying together as a large group potentially dangerous for everyone involved. The Dullahan virus inside me seemed to attract the infected, just as it would with Rachel and Elena. The larger our group, the more attention we would draw, and the greater the risk to everyone.

Eventually, I would have to tell them about the virus, about what was really happening to the people I had ’cured’. But not now. Not when we were still in immediate danger and emotions were running high.

"Then let’s not waste any more time," I said. "If everyone’s ready, we should leave now."

Me, Sydney, Rachel, Rebecca, Alisha, Elena, Christopher, Cindy, Daisy, and Jason. Ten people total. With Sydney’s car and the director’s vehicle, two cars would be just enough for our group if we packed tight.

"Yeah, let’s get out of here," Sydney said. "I’m sick of being stuck with these rich, entitled idiots anyway."

Her words were purposefully loud enough for everyone to hear, and I caught several of the other survivors shooting wounded or angry looks in our direction.

"Wait, where do you think you’re going?" Tobias asked frowning.

"We’re leaving," Elena replied simply.

"What? Do you even have cars?" Tobias asked.

Elena’s blue eyes flashed with something sharp. "What does that matter to you? After all, we’re potentially infected, aren’t we? We should stay far away from you ’clean’ people, just in case we contaminate you."

The retort hit its mark perfectly. I had to suppress a smile at Elena’s pointed reference to how Tobias and his crowd had treated us back in the library—keeping us isolated as if we were already lost causes. It was a masterful verbal jab that left Tobias with absolutely no comeback. His jaw worked silently for a moment as he struggled to find a response that wouldn’t make him look like even more of a hypocrite.

"Let’s go," I said, cutting through the silence and moving toward the door. I cracked it open carefully, peering out into the hallway beyond.

The corridor stretched in both directions. I counted at least seven infected wandering aimlessly through the hallway, their movements jerky and unnatural as they responded to stimuli only they could perceive.

"Seven of them," I reported back to the group. "But the staircase to the rooftop is just to the right—maybe ten meters down the hall."

"How are we supposed to fight seven infected in such a narrow space?" Cindy asked

She had a point. While seven infected might not be impossible to handle in an open area, the confines of the school corridor would make any kind of combat extremely dangerous.

But we didn’t need to fight them. Sometimes the simplest solutions were the most effective.

"We don’t fight them," I said, scanning the nearby bookshelves until I found what I needed. "Jason, hand me that book—the thick one on the top shelf."

He reached up and pulled down a massive textbook—probably someone’s advanced calculus or physics tome, heavy enough to make a significant impact. I tested its weight in my hands, feeling the satisfying heft of several hundred pages bound in hardcover.

I waited patiently by the door, listening to the shuffling footsteps of the infected as they wandered through the hallway. Timing would be crucial here. When the sounds indicated that most of them had moved toward the far end of the corridor, I carefully cracked the door open again.

The nearest infected was about ten feet away, facing in the opposite direction. Perfect.

I wound up like a pitcher and hurled the textbook with all my enhanced strength toward the far wall. It struck the concrete with a thunderous crash that echoed through the entire floor, immediately followed by the sound of pages scattering.

I quickly pulled the door shut and pressed my ear against it, listening as the infected responded exactly as I’d hoped. Their shuffling footsteps grew more urgent as they converged on the source of the noise, drawn away from our intended path like moths to a flame.

By the way I couldn’t help but be impressed at how amazing my ears became. I could pinpoint the Infected’s locations just by focusing on the sound...

Also...

"Thank God they’re complete idiots," I muttered under my breath.

But our diversion would only work for so long. The infected would investigate the noise, find nothing of interest, and resume their random wandering. We had maybe a minute or two before they spread back through the hallway.

"We have to run," I said, turning back to face the group. "Fast and quiet. No talking, no stopping until we reach the staircase."

Everyone nodded.

I opened the door and immediately broke into a sprint. Behind me, I could hear the others following—some more gracefully than others, but all of them managing to keep pace.

The staircase door loomed ahead. I reached it first and yanked it open, immediately checking the stairwell for any threats even though there shouldn’t be before waving the others through.

"Hurry up!" I hissed, keeping my voice as low as possible.

One by one, they filed past me into the stairwell.

When the last person had entered, I pulled the door closed behind us.

"Wait," Rebecca said, pausing on the first step of the staircase leading upward. "Are we sure the rooftop is clear?"

"We cleaned it out earlier," Christopher replied.

He was right. During our earlier trip back, we dealt with them quietly. Unless more had somehow made their way up there since then, which I doubt greatly since they can’t climb up, we should have a clear path to freedom.

I pushed open the rooftop access door, and immediately felt the rush of cool morning air against my face. After hours inside the stuffy library the fresh breeze felt nice.

"First thing we need to do is locate the director’s car," Sydney said, moving to the edge of the rooftop for a better view of the parking lot below. She pulled out a set of keys that jingled softly in the morning air. "Do any of you guys know what kind of car your director drives?"

The question was directed at Rebecca and the others, but they all exchanged blank looks. It wasn’t exactly the kind of information that came up in casual conversation between students and administration.

I also joined her to look around.

"Well," Cindy said with a slight shrug, "if you press the panic button on the key fob, it should make the car’s alarm go off. That’ll tell us which one it is."

"Good thinking," Rachel said. "But first we need to get down there. The parking lot’s on the other side of the building."

She was right. And Sydney’s car was parked in the student lot, which meant we’d need to use the emergency staircase that ran down the back of the building—the same route we’d planned to begin with.

"Wait!"

An annoyingly familiar voice rang and we all spun around in surprise. Desmond stood in the doorway we’d just come through, his face flushed from running and his eyes wide with desperation. Behind him, the rest of the survivors were filing onto the rooftop one by one—nearly twenty people who looked just as panicked and desperate as he did.

"Wait for us!" Desmond called out, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Somehow I felt just irritated as I watched the larger group spread across the rooftop. This was exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid. Our small, manageable group had been replaced by a mob of scared teenagers and young adults, each with their own opinions, fears, agenda and clearly no cohesion at all.