"Ten seconds. I can stop the ti during ten seconds." The words fell from my lips.
I watched Emily’s face carefully, searching for any sign of what she was thinking as silence stretched between us like a taut wire.
Her green eyes, usually so expressive, had gone completely blank. She stared at without blinking, her lips slightly parted as if she’d been about to speak but the words had simply evaporated.
"Do you think I’m so kind of monster?" The question burst out of before I could stop it, my voice cracking slightly. I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, feeling the grease and gri that had accumulated over the past hours days. "Yeah, I know it’s weird that I obtained this... this weird power right when this pandemic hit us."
The timing felt too convenient, too suspicious. What were the odds that I’d develop so supernatural ability just as the world was ending? Sotis I wondered if I was losing my mind, if the stress and horror of everything had finally snapped sothing inside my brain.
"N—No, no, sorry!" Emily’s voice ca out in a rush as she shook her head so vigorously that her ponytail whipped back and forth. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she pressed her hands together in her lap. "I—I’m just a bit overwheld. This is... Ryan, this is incredible."
She looked down at her hands, then back up at , and I could see her trying to process what I’d told her.
"Yeah, sa..." I let out a shaky breath, feeling so of the tension leave my shoulders. At least she didn’t think I was completely insane. "But that ans we have a chance to get away from this place, Emily. We’re not trapped here anymore."
For the first ti in hours, I felt sothing that might have been hope stirring in my chest. We’d been holed up in this storage room for what felt like an eternity. The idea that we might actually escape seed almost too good to be true.
Emily leaned forward, her brow furrowing. "But there must be so drawbacks, right? I an, nothing this powerful cos without a cost."
I held up my left hand. "Yeah, look. It’s not as dark as it was before."
The tattoo, which had been a deep, almost black color when I’d first discovered it, now appeared faded and grey. The sand within the hourglass design seed to shimr weakly, like the last embers of a dying fire.
We both stared at it in silence, watching and waiting. I counted the seconds in my head: fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty... The change was gradual at first, then more pronounced as the grey began to deepen, the lines becoming more defined until finally the tattoo returned to its original black state.
"Ten minutes," I said, noting the ti. "Ten minutes of cooldown before I can use it again."
Emily’s eyes lit up and she scooted closer to on the floor. "Can you stop ti with as well? I an, will I be frozen too, or...?"
"Give your hand," I said, extending my own toward her.
Her fingers were ice-cold when they touched mine, and I could feel the slight tremor running through them—whether from cold or fear, I couldn’t tell. With my free hand, I reached for a red pen that had fallen from one of the supply boxes earlier, its plastic surface scuffed from being dropped.
"Watch this," I said, holding the pen up high above our heads.
I released it and imdiately pressed my thumb against the hourglass tattoo. The familiar sensation washed over —like the world suddenly holding its breath. Colors beca more vivid, sounds disappeared entirely, and that pen hung suspended in midair as if caught in invisible amber.
The countdown began in my mind: ten, nine, eight...
Emily’s head turned slowly from side to side, her eyes wide with amazent as she took in the impossible scene. The pen hovered motionless above us, defying every law of physics she’d ever learned. Her grip on my hand tightened.
"Amazing..." She whispered.
Seven, six, five...
I could see dust motes frozen in the air, caught in the beam of the flickering fluorescent light. Even the light itself seed to pause in its intermittent dance. Everything was perfectly, unnaturally still.
Four, three, two, one...
Reality snapped back and the pen completed its fall with a small plastic clatter against the concrete floor. The sounds of the infected outside resud their haunting chorus. Emily gasped and let go of my hand as if she’d been burned.
"As long as I’m touching so part of your body, you can move with when I activate it," I explained, but even as the words left my mouth, a sharp pain lanced through my skull. I pressed the heel of my palm against my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut as the world tilted slightly.
"Ryan! You okay?" Emily asked, and I felt her hand on my shoulder.
"It takes my stamina," I managed through gritted teeth, waiting for the worst of the headache to pass. "Like... like running a sprint. But I’ll be fine." I opened my eyes and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Now we need to plan how to escape this place."
I pushed myself to my feet, my legs slightly unsteady, and made my way to the small window set high up near the ceiling. Climbing onto the sturdy tal table then onto a stack of cardboard boxes that creaked under my weight, I finally reached the window.
The glass was grimy and cracked, but I could see through it well enough. What I saw made my stomach drop.
The courtyard below was crawling with infected. They moved with that characteristic jerky, unnatural gait—so fast and aggressive, others slow and shambling. I counted at least twenty in my imdiate field of vision, and I knew there were more beyond what I could see.
But what made it worse was the recognition. There was Mrs. Patterson from my AP History class, her usually neat grey hair now matted with dark stains, her floral dress torn and bloody. She’d been one of the nicest teachers in the school, always willing to stay after class to help struggling students. Now she wandered aimlessly in circles, her movents chanical and wrong.
Near the basketball court, I spotted Chuck Morrison from the varsity football team. He’d been two years ahead of , popular and seemingly invincible. Now half his face was gone, and he dragged one leg behind him as he moved.
"Either we leave by the window here," I said, climbing back down and pointing upward, "or we go through that door." I gestured toward the storage room’s exit.
Emily hugged herself, rubbing her arms as she shivered. The storage room had no heating, and our breath had been visible in small puffs for the past two days as temperatures dropped. Her lips had a bluish tinge that worried .
"What do you think?" She asked, her teeth chattering slightly.
I leaned against the wall, considering our options. Both were terrifying in their own way, but we couldn’t stay here forever.
"Outside is completely overrun," I said finally. "I can only stop ti for ten seconds at a ti, and then I need ten minutes to recover. If we get surrounded out there..." I didn’t need to finish the sentence. We both knew what would happen.
Emily’s face went pale, and she nodded slowly. "And inside?"
"The corridors might be safer. It’s a longer route to get out of the building, but we’d have more control over our encounters. We could move from classroom to classroom, check each area before committing." I paused, thinking through the school’s layout. "Plus, we know this building. We know where the exits are, where we might find supplies."
"I think you’re right," Emily agreed, though her voice was small and uncertain. "The hallways have to be safer than that." She gestured toward the window and the horror that lay beyond it.
I watched Emily’s shoulders shake with another violent shiver, her arms wrapped tightly around herself in a futile attempt to trap what little warmth remained in her body. The storage room felt like a freezer this night.
"Hey," I said softly, extending my hand toward her.
She looked up at . Without hesitation, she reached out and grasped my hand. Her fingers were like ice against my palm, and I could feel the tremor that ran through her entire body.
I pulled her to her feet, and before either of us could think about it, I wrapped my arms around her. The hug was born of necessity at first—two people trying to share what little body heat they had left—but it beca sothing more the mont her body pressed against mine.
She was so small in my arms, so fragile. I could feel every shiver that ran through her, could sense the way she was holding herself together by sheer willpower alone. The scent of her strawberry shampoo, sohow still faintly detectable despite everything we’d been through, mixed with the musty air of our hiding place.
"God, you’re freezing," I murmured against the top of her head, tightening my hold on her.
Emily’s response was imdiate and desperate. Her arms ca up around my back, her fingers digging into my shoulders. She pressed her face against my chest, and I could feel the warmth of her breath through my shirt. Her whole body was trembling—not just from cold anymore, but from the weight of everything that had happened.
The reality was hitting her now, I realized. During the imdiate crisis, the adrenaline and fear had kept her focused on survival. But now, in this mont of relative safety, the full horror of our situation was settling in. The world as we knew it was gone. Our friends, our families, our entire lives had been swept away in a tide of infection and death.
"I’m so scared, Ryan," she whispered against my chest."I keep thinking about my parents. What if they’re..." She couldn’t finish the sentence.
I felt sothing shift inside as I held her. The strange thing was, I should have been just as terrified as she was. But ever since I’d discovered my immunity, ever since that hourglass tattoo had appeared on my hand, sothing had changed. The fear was still there, lurking at the edges of my consciousness, but it was muted sohow. Controlled.
It was as if my body and mind were adapting to this new reality faster than they should have been able to. Where Emily was breaking down under the weight of it all, I found myself becoming calr, more focused. More in control of myself than I’d ever been in my life.
"Emily. We’re going to get through this together, okay? I promise you that."
She nodded, sniffling slightly, and I could see her trying to pull herself together. The Emily I knew was still in there—the strong girl. She just needed ti to find her footing in this nightmare.
"Alright," I said, stepping back but keeping my hands on her shoulders. "Let’s see if we can find anything useful in here before we make our move."
We began systematically searching through the storage room, though our options were limited. Most of the supplies were cleaning products and office materials—nothing that would help us survive in a world overrun by the infected.
Emily rummaged through a box of miscellaneous items near the back wall while I checked the shelves. "There’s not much here that we can actually carry," she said, frustration creeping into her voice. "No bags, no backpacks, just these flimsy plastic ones that would tear the mont we put any weight in them."
I was examining a toolbox when my fingers closed around sothing promising. "Found sothing," I said, pulling out a heavy-duty box cutter. The blade was sharp and the handle was solid—not much as weapons went, but better than nothing. I retracted the blade and slipped it into my pocket.
"Ryan, look at this!" Emily let out. She was holding up a heavy-duty flashlight, the kind maintenance workers used. She pressed the button and a strong beam of white light cut through the gloom of the storage room. "It still works, and it feels like the batteries are almost full."
"That could be useful," I said. Who knows if electricity won’t disappear in few days. "That could save our lives out there."
Emily tested the flashlight’s focus, adjusting the beam from wide to narrow. "Should I keep it on, or save the batteries?"
"Save them for now," I decided. "We’ll need them more once we’re in the hallways."
I took a deep breath and walked back to her, extending my hand. "Alright, are you ready for this?"
She looked at my outstretched hand for a mont, then up at my face. I could see her gathering her courage, pushing down the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. Finally, she placed her hand in mine.
"I’m ready," she said.
Her hand was small and cold in mine, but I could feel the strength in her grip.
I approached the door, fishing the key from my pocket. We’d locked ourselves in here for few hours, and now the simple act of turning that key felt like crossing a threshold into hell.
The key turned with a soft click that seed to echo in the silence of the storage room. I paused, pressing my ear against the door, listening for any sounds from the hallway beyond. My heart was hamring against my ribs, and I could feel Emily’s pulse racing where our wrists touched.
I closed my eyes, trying to visualize the layout of this section of the school. We were in the basent level, in a storage area of the main building If we went straight ahead, we’d hit a dead end. That left only one option: turn right.
The first room we’d encounter would be a classroom. From there, we could work our way toward one of the main exits. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was a plan.
"Stay close to ," I whispered to Emily. "And whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand."
She nodded.
I began to open the door, moving slowly to minimize any sound. The hinges, thankfully, were well-oiled and didn’t creak. As the gap widened, I held my breath and listened.
That’s when I heard it.
"Grraaauuhhh..."
The low, guttural moan of one of the infected, and it was close. Too close. My blood turned to ice as I realized the sound was coming from directly in front of our door, maybe only a few feet away.
I froze, not daring to breathe. Beside , Emily had gone rigid, her grip on my hand tightening to the point of pain. Through the crack in the door, I could see a shadow moving across the dim hallway.
The infected shambled past our hiding spot, its movents jerky and unnatural. I caught a glimpse of what had once been a janitor’s uniform, now torn and stained with dark patches that I didn’t want to think about. The thing’s breathing was labored and wet, punctuated by occasional moans that made my skin crawl.
We waited in absolute silence until the footsteps faded down the corridor. Only then did I dare to open the door wider, peering out into the hallway that had once been so familiar.
I could see three figures shambling through the space—one heading away from us toward the dead end, and two more near the far end of the corridor, their backs to us.
I gestured for Emily to crouch down beside . We would have to move carefully, staying low and keeping to the shadows. The infected seed to be drawn to the sounds coming from outside.
"This is it," I whispered, so quietly that Emily had to lean in close to hear . "We move now, while they’re distracted."
We moved through the corridor like ghosts, our footsteps muffled on the floor. Emily’s hand was slick with sweat in mine, but her grip never wavered.
The air down here was stale and heavy, filled with the musty scent of old building materials and sothing else—sothing organic and wrong that I didn’t want to identify. Each breath felt thick in my lungs, and I had to fight the urge to cough.
We reached the first classroom along our route, and I pressed myself against the wall beside the doorfra. The door stood slightly ajar, just enough for to peer through the gap. Emily positioned herself behind , so close I could feel her rapid breathing against my neck.
Through the crack, I could see the familiar layout of what had once been a computer lab. Desks were scattered haphazardly around the room, and backpacks and personal belongings were strewn across the floor like debris from a hurricane. Papers were scattered everywhere—howork assignnts, test sheets, soone’s carefully written notes—all of it now aningless in this new world we found ourselves in.
A red backpack caught my eye, sitting abandoned beside an overturned chair. It looked full, promising. There might be food inside, or water, or maybe even a cell phone with enough battery to call for help. The rational part of my mind catalogued all the potentially useful items scattered throughout the room.
But the survival instinct that had been growing stronger each hour since this nightmare began whispered warnings in my ear. The two infected we’d spotted earlier were still wandering the far end of the corridor, their shambling movents unpredictable. If they decided to turn around and head back toward us, we’d be trapped in that classroom with nowhere to run.
I made the hard choice and pulled back from the doorway. There would be other opportunities to scavenge supplies, but only if we stayed alive long enough to find them.
"Anything useful?" Emily whispered, her lips so close to my ear that I could feel the warmth of her breath.
I shook my head and gestured for us to keep moving. We had to keep our priorities straight: escape first, everything else second.
We continued down the corridor, staying close to the wall. The infected ahead of us seed absorbed in their aimless wandering, occasionally letting out low moans that echoed off the concrete walls. One of them—wearing the remnants of a school security uniform—kept walking into a wall, backing up, then walking into it again, trapped in so kind of mindless loop.
Finally, we reached a T-intersection. To our left, the corridor continued toward what I rembered was the old gymnasium and eventually the main stairwell. To our right, a shorter hallway led to an ergency exit that opened directly into the school’s parking lot.
I paused at the corner, thinking. The parking lot. If we could find a car—any car—with keys still in it, we could drive out of this nightmare. Teachers sotis left their cars unlocked, and in the chaos of the initial outbreak, soone might have abandoned their vehicle in their panic to escape.
It was risky, but it could also be our ticket to freedom.
I squeezed Emily’s hand three tis—our signal that I had an idea. She squeezed back twice in acknowledgnt, waiting for to make the call.
The plan was forming in my mind: go straight ahead, avoid the two infected by staying in the shadows, and make it to that ergency exit. Once we were in the parking lot, we’d have open space to maneuver and hopefully fewer infected to deal with than the maze of hallways inside the building.
But first, I needed to check if we could use the right corridor as a backup route or hiding spot if things went wrong.
I carefully leaned around the corner to peer down the right-hand hallway, making sure to move slowly and stay low.
That’s when everything went to hell.
My shoulder bumped into sothing solid and warm. Sothing that definitely shouldn’t have been there.
A leg. A human leg.
"Shit!" The curse exploded from my lips before I could stop it.
I looked up to see the face of what had once been our chemistry teacher. Half of his face was gone, eaten away by the infection, leaving exposed bone and putrid flesh. His remaining eye locked onto mine with terrifying focus, and his mouth opened in a wet, hungry snarl.
Ti seed to slow as his arms reached for , his fingers ending in broken, bloody nails. I could sll the rot on him. Behind him, I glimpsed at least two more infected, all of them now aware of our presence.
My hand moved to the hourglass tattoo without conscious thought, muscle mory taking over where rational thinking failed.
"Run!" I shouted to Emily as I pressed the tattoo.
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