A harsh, metallic screech ripped through the gym, drowning out the murmurs.
It didn't come from the blue system screen. It came from above.
The school's old PA speakers rattled violently, spitting out a wall of static before a sharp, synthetic tone blared three times. The sound was deafeningly loud, forcing several students to clamp their hands over their ears.
"Attention. This is an automated transmission from the National Emergency Management Authority."
The voice wasn't human. It was cold, text-to-speech, and entirely devoid of emotion, yet it commanded absolute silence. The students froze, eyes darting toward the rusted speakers mounted in the corners of the ceiling.
"A state of global emergency has been declared. Civil infrastructure has suffered a critical collapse. All citizens are advised to seek immediate shelter."
The soccer player let out a ragged breath. "The government... they're still active. They're coming for us."
"Do not attempt to travel by ground," the mechanical voice continued, cutting through the boy's desperate hope. "Surface sectors are heavily compromised. Violent biological entities have been confirmed across all major density zones."
Ryker stepped closer to the center of the court, his head tilted upward.
"Initial research confirms these entities are physiologically deceased. They are undead."
A collective gasp echoed through the gym. Julian looked toward the door, his face draini ng of what little color he had left.
"The anomaly is transmitted via direct biological contact," the broadcast droned on, its flat delivery making the horrific reality sound like a weather report. "Any scratch, bite, or fluid exchange with an infected individual will result in cellular necrosis and eventual reanimation. The incubation period varies between ten to twenty minutes. Repeat: do not engage—"
The audio cut out, replaced by a violent surge of static that made everyone flinch. For a second, it sounded like the message was lost entirely, until the automated voice sputtered back online, skipping heavily.
"—transitioning to airborne operations exclusively. Ground extraction is no longer viable. All surviving citizens are ordered to move to higher ground. Evacuation protocols will only be executed from elevated structures, rooftops, and high-rise sectors. Secure your perimeters. Conserve resources. This message will repeat."
The static returned, humming softly before the loop started over.
Ryker finally pulled his hands out of his pockets and turned to face the upper tier of the gym. His eyes bypassed the floating blue tutorial countdown and locked onto the heavy metal fire doors at the top of the bleachers the ones leading to the roof access stairs.
"Well," Ryker said, his voice flat against the automated recording. "The government just validated my geek obsession. We need to get to the roof."
---
"Go outside?!" the soccer player yelled, his voice cracking as he pointed violently at the steel doors. "Are you out of your mind, Ryker? We just heard someone get torn apart out there! The doors are the only thing keeping us alive, and you want us to walk right into the open?"
"He's right," the varsity player added, backing toward the equipment cages. "The broadcast said ground levels are compromised. The hallways are ground level. If we leave this room, we're bait."
More voices joined the chorus, panic turning into a wall of stubborn resistance.
Julian stepped forward. He didn't shout, but he cleared his throat with a commanding, resonant sound that instantly drew eyes.
"Hey, look at me. Everyone, quiet down for a second," Julian said.
He stood tall, shoulders squared, effortlessly commanding the room. The shouting died down to a nervous murmur.
"Look, I get it. It's a literal horror movie out there," Julian said, flashing a quick, self-deprecating grin. "But if we stay on the floor, we're capping our own chances. We go to the roof, we get a view, and we get a direct line to whatever choppers the military is sending."
"But the hallways..." the girl on the bleachers whimpered.
"The hallways are a straight shot to the stairwell," Julian countered smoothly, his tone laced with absolute authority. "We move fast, we move together. I'll lead. Nobody gets left behind."
Ryker watched him from the free-throw line. People were already nodding, falling into line simply because Julian looked like a guy who couldn't lose.
"Besides," Julian continued, his voice dropping into a casual, conversational tone. "You guys know my older brother. He isn't the type to let a little apocalypse keep him from picking me up."
A collective murmur passed through the students. The mention of Julian's brother instantly shifted the heavy mood in the room. Even Ryker, who had never met the man, knew the whispers. Rumors of a wealthy ex-military contractor who commanded a massive private security firm downtown a local legend whose face occasionally popped up on high-profile news segments and billboards. To the rest of the campus, Julian's brother was an untouchable icon.
Internally, Ryker rolled his eyes.
He had always found it foolish how easily people placed their faith in a stranger just because they had money and wore a uniform well. To Ryker, the guy wasn't special. Nobody was. Put anyone in front of a horde of living corpses, and a high net worth wouldn't save them.
"Last text I got from him before the grid blew, he was caught in that massive gridlock on the western bypass," Julian said, chuckling softly as if it were a minor inconvenience. "Knowing him, he's probably already abandoned his car and is clearing a path straight to the campus quad right now. If the government's airborne trips take too long, my brother will get here. But he can't look for us if we're buried in a basement gym. He's going to look at the highest point."
The tension in the room visibly eased. The students swapped glances, Julian's blind optimism acting like a sedative against the reality of the broadcast.
Ryker stayed silent, keeping his eyes on the blood-red digits of his own hidden screen. 0.00%.
Julian was a fool for banking on a savior. A virus that ignored pain and mortality wouldn't care about tactical training. If his brother was stuck on the bypass when the world ended, surrounded by hundreds of panicked people turning into those fast, relentless things... he was just another body in a metal trap.
"Alright, enough talking," Julian said, turning toward the equipment lockers. "Let's grab those metal bats and hockey sticks. We're going up."