12.

Tracy and Lucas did a double-take.  Then another.

 

"Who is it?" Tracy said first, wanting to giggle and be sick at the same time because of how nonchalant it sounded.

 

"Sammi Lockwood," came the panicked voice again.  "Everyone in the lunchroom is...some of them started following me.  There's something really wrong with them and they're probably in the next hallway please I'm not one of them!"

 

"Sammi?" Tracy asked incredulously.  "Sammi, it's Tracy!"

 

"Oh God, Trace...what's going on?"  Sammi's sultry voice was ragged with fear and tears.  "How did you get out? Is there anyone in there with you?"

 

"Lucas," she mumbled back.  She ignored the first two questions because the second was just luck, and if she knew the first, would she really be in this situation?  "Do you have a hairpin or something?  We're locked in here."  Tracy tried to keep the rising panic out of her voice.  Once Sammi's quarry found this hall, they'd find Sammi with no cover, or worse, locked alone in another room full of living-dead things.  And then the army of undead would make it their mission to bust in, and take out what may be the last living students.  Tracy and Lucas didn't think they could take the lunchroom--or however many survived to be ressurected.

 

"Umm, yeah," Sammi whispered, pausing for a second, obviously threading one out of her pinned-up hairdo.  "You want me to pick the lock?  How do you even do that?"

 

"I don't know," Tracy admitted.  "Look, you physically can't come in.  Aren't there any other doors in this hall you can try?"

 

"All locked," said Sammi miserably.  "And I heard one group in the computer class down the hall, one group of survivors, but they wouldn't let me in.  Maybe they thought I was one of them, maybe they just didn't want anyone else, I don't know.  But I'm stuck here, Trace.  Unless I want to hide in a bathroom or something, and that's back toward the lunchroom.  Please, you have to help me..."

 

Sammi's voice tailed away into uneven breaths.  Tracy knew how much it took to make her friend cry.  She hadn't even shed a tear at her father's funeral, but now, one mistake could earn her one of the most painful, bloody deaths she could imagine.  The whole day had just been escalating panic.

 

"Umm," Tracy said, thoughts whirling around the inside of her fevered mind.

 

"You could kick down the door," Lucas suggested.  "These school locks aren't the best, I'm sure you could force it open."

 

"Yeah, and what if it doesn't work?" Sammi shot back.  "One fail and they'll be on me like..."  They heard the faint sound of fingers snapping.

 

"Well, it's the only thing you can do, isn't it?" said Lucas snidely.

 

Tracy glared at him, then turned back to the very, very solid-looking door.

 

"I guess so, Sam," Tracy said.  "Please, please make it good."

 

She scrambled away, as far as she could go from the door without treading on a body, then squeezed herself into a ball, staring, barely noticing Lucas copying her.

 

Tracy couldn't see her, but she imagined Sammi squeezing her eyes shut and standing back from the door with what might have been the greatest effort of her life.  She imagined, though neither of the girls were very religious, that she murmured a prayer.  And she imagined, then felt, the energy of a full-out front-kick slam just above the doorknob.

 

Then she heard it.  She heard the wooden-sounding crack, heard Sammi let out a small scream of rage.

 

Then she saw it.  She saw it swing in a wide arc and smack hard against the wall, saw Sammi burst through the doorway, her hair frizzy and wild and her face covered in varied shades of bloodstains.  She didn't think she'd been happier to see anyone in her entire life.

 

Suddenly they were on their feet, shoving the door back into its original position until the lock clicked again.  Tracy wasn't taking any chances, though; they piled desks up to it until their barricade was taller than any of them.

 

There was a second's lull.  In the silence you could hear what sounded like many, many pounding footsteps.

 

Then they heard a gutteral, animal scream, which was taken up by what sounded like thirty voices.  The next sound burnt itself to Tracy's brain like a hot iron: a blow to the door, like the punch of someone who no longer felt pain.

Author's Note

I haven't been on this in a while. Geez, can you believe I actually looked up the best way to kick down a door? (Apparently a front kick is inadvisable, but "Despite this, it does look far, far cooler.")

Reviews

[Lyzzy Redd]

I was so glad to see that you added another chapter! But oh my gosh!!! The zombies (I'ma gonna call them zombies =3) escaped the barricade!...I think??? =D I can't wait for more!