The front doors slammed shut behind us with a bang that echoed down the dark hallway, swallowing the chaos outside in one final breath. The rain became muffled, but the silence that followed was worse.
The building was dark.
Too dark.
No emergency lights. Just broken bulbs and shadows thick enough to suffocate.
It smelled awful — like wet rust, sweat, and something… spoiled. The kind of smell that made your throat tighten and your skin itch.
I leaned against the cold wall, trying to stop shaking. My fingers still gripped the handle of the knife. It was sticky. I didn't want to think about why.
Next to me, the guy who had seen everything — hoodie soaked, eyes wide — spoke.
"We need to find a place to hide," he said. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't used it in hours, or maybe like he'd screamed too much and just stopped.
I nodded once. "Second floor," I said. "Classrooms up there are smaller. Easier to block off."
We moved fast. Our steps echoed on the stairs like gunshots. The air felt heavier the higher we climbed, like the building itself didn't want us there.
When we reached the second floor, we ducked into the first classroom we could find. The windows were covered, but barely. The power was still out. The whole place looked like it had been abandoned for years instead of hours.
He pulled a few desks toward the door. I jammed a chair under the handle. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.
Once the room was shut and barricaded, I let my legs give out and slid to the floor. My back hit the wall. I let out a slow, shaking breath.
"What the hell were those things?" he asked. He didn't sit yet, just stood there like his brain hadn't caught up to his body.
I closed my eyes for a second. "I don't know. But they're not people anymore. Not like us."
He finally sat across from me, his back against the opposite wall. He looked about my age. Soft brown eyes. Hair stuck to his forehead from the rain. Exhausted, like me.
"I'm Alex," he said. "Alexander. But… I hate that name."
I gave a small, tired smile. "Penelope. I kinda hate mine too."
He tilted his head a little. "Can I call you Pene?"
I blinked, caught off guard.
He added quickly, "Only if that's okay. It just… fits."
There was something honest in the way he said it — no teasing, no weird tone. Just… like he wanted to call me something that wasn't wrapped in formality and fear.
I nodded, a little surprised at myself.
"Yeah. Pene's good. Only you get to say it though," I said. "Don't make me regret it."
He grinned, tired but real. "Wouldn't dream of it."
And just like that, in the middle of hell, I had a nickname.
I don't know why it mattered — but it did. It was like holding onto a small part of myself. Something normal in the middle of the apocalypse.
We sat in silence for a moment, rain tapping faintly on the windowpanes.
"You want to know what happened?" I asked, finally breaking it.
He nodded.
So I told him.
I find dozens of missed texts. From everyone. My mom, my dad, my two best friends from high school, even my little sister. All of them saying the same thing:
"Stay inside."
"Don't go out."
"Something's wrong."
"I thought they were being dramatic," I admitted. "I mean, it's not like the news helped. The president was on TV saying everything's fine. They always say that."
Alex nodded slowly. "Yeah. Like a disaster movie where they lie right before the aliens invade."
"Exactly," I said with a small, shaky laugh. "Anyway, I looked out my dorm window and saw my friend Aly. Pink hair. Couldn't miss her. She was just standing there, near the gate, like she was waiting for me."
My voice dropped.
"She wasn't moving right. I thought she was hurt. I grabbed a knife — don't ask why, it just felt like… maybe I'd need it. I know self-defense. My dad made me learn all the things — karate, jiu-jitsu, boxing. I used to hate it. But today…"
Alex said nothing, just listened.
"I ran to her," I continued. "But when I got close… something was wrong. She was mumbling. Saying she was hungry. Asking where everyone went. And when she turned around…" I trailed off, blinking back the sting in my eyes. "Her skin wasn't right. Her mouth was red. And she jumped at me."
The room went quiet. Not even the rain seemed to move.
"I pinned her," I whispered. "I didn't want to hurt her. I just wanted to help. But she kept trying to bite me. So I… I stabbed her."
Alex's face didn't change. No judgment. No pity. Just quiet understanding.
"She didn't stop," I said. "Not after one. Not after five. It took fifteen. And even then, I wasn't sure if she was dead-dead or just… waiting."
Alex leaned back slightly, breathing out.
"I'm sorry, Pene," he said gently.
"Me too."
The lights flickered once, casting our shadows long and sharp across the walls. Then they went out completely again.
A sound came from the hallway.
A soft tapping. Slow. Deliberate.
We both froze.
Penelope gripped the knife again. Alex didn't speak.
The tapping grew closer.
Then stopped.
Silence.
For a long time, we didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then Alex whispered, "We'll figure this out."
And for the first time since it started — since Aly — I let myself believe he might be right.