Katie grabs my hand and pulls. “Come on, Belle! Something’s happening in the cafeteria; it’s a matter of life and death!”

“Life and death? I’ll go to my locker!” That’s where I keep my stuff ever since the Chemistry Lab incident.

“No time!” She keeps pulling and I have to relent. I pray this isn’t a mistake as we sprint down the hall. I can hear the screams from two classrooms away.

I slam the doors open with my fists and burst in, but slip on some viscous red slime and my grand entrance becomes a messy skid through a sloppy mess. I can’t tell whether it’s blood and entrails or the marinara sauce from today’s lunch special. I hope it’s blood.

A clot of something drops into my cleavage as I get to my knees. The distinctive stench of decay and garlic assaults my nostrils. Damn, it’s the marinara. That’s never going to come out!

From my knees I finally get a look at the room. There are about two dozen zombies here, along with forty or so scared high-school students. The zombies are all turning towards me; at least they recognize the real threat. Trouble is I’m unarmed except for the bowie knife strapped to my thigh. The principal threatened to expel me if I brought the shotgun to class again.

Still, even with just the one knife this was doable. It’s a bit harder, that’s all.

I shout as I finish standing. “Katie! Go get my shotgun! And some holy water!” She runs off to do her job. We’ve been doing this since last fall, so I know the score. I have to do the fighting while Katie tells me I’m doing a great job.

I pull the knife and survey the zombies. Great, it’s the football team. At least Evan isn’t here; I don’t want to have to kill another boyfriend. In any case the smell of jock sweat actually makes the odor of the marinara more tolerable.

The zombies start grabbing at me and I start slashing. I try to be careful but there’s too many. My knife goes into Jeff the fullback up to the hilt and sticks. It’s ripped from my grasp. Great. Now I’m unarmed.

I keep fighting but I’m getting overwhelmed. A zombie grabs my left arm, then another gets the right. I kick one where it would hurt if he were alive, but another grabs me from behind. Good thing zombies aren’t interested in sex, otherwise this could get really weird…


The world fades to black and text begins appearing letter by letter, like it’s coming off some ancient typewriter.

“To be continued this fall.”