Nine of us left. Me, Trev, Meths, Elephant, Stagger Lee, Tyler, Seez, the other Muslim boy and the Indian. As we run, twisting through corridors, I try to remember how many of us there were to begin with, but I can't. I've already forgotten the names and faces of the dead. I'm sure, if I sat down for five minutes, I'd be able to recall them. But right now they're vaguely remembered ghosts.
Sounds behind us again. The zombies must have overcome their fear of the light. The chase has resumed.
"Hold on," Trev pants, coming to a stop. "Where are we? I don't know if we're heading back towards the gym or close to the front."
We gaze around. There are classrooms on both sides but I don't recognize them. All of the corridors have started to look the same. I'm as lost as Trev. By the blank stares of the others, I know that they are too.
Tyler coughs shyly and points. "The front's that way."
"You're sure?" Trev asks.
"Yeah," he says with a small smile. "I'm good at directions, me."
"Then let's go."
We head the way Tyler pointed. He'd better be right. If he's not, I'll kill him before the zombies can.
We turn a corner and I run into a boy my own size. We collide, bounce off each other and fall. Sitting up and rubbing my head, I realize it's Pox and I burst into a smile.
"Pox! I thought you were..."
I stop. Pox is staring at me with a hungry look. I remember that the last time I saw him, he was dining on Dunglop's brain. My eyes flash to the fingers of his left hand and I see a light green moss running along the bite marks. Bones jut nastily from the ruined tips of his fingers.
Rick's just behind Pox. He's limping, dragging one leg. His foot's missing. Pox or another zombie must have chewed it off before he turned. But there's not much blood.
Pox scuttles after me. Dunglop's brain obviously wasn't enough to satisfy his appetite. Like Meths, poor old Dunglop never was the brightest of sparks, so he must have made for no more than a snack.