text: You run after James, Mike following close behind; following him down the long hall. He stops at the end of the hall, where the only option is to turn left down the history and social studies hall. You come to a halt beside him, Mike following your lead. Following James' lead you see about ten disfigured people walking. On the other side of them are Christie and Frank, trapped between this group and another larger group.
  
  Filtering in from the dusty windows, pale sunlight illuminates the scene enough that you can see something is off about these people. Their skin is loose and in some cases covered with gaping wounds. You swallow hard. They are like the half torso from the study hall. They're dead.
  
  "Zombies?" You ask. "How is that even possible?"
  
  "In the multiverse theory," Mike explains; "There are an infinite number of possible universes. Even ones with zombies."
  
  "Would you two shut up?" James mutters from over his shoulder. "Come on, we need to help them."
  
  With more stealth than you can believe a guy of his size is capable, James moves quietly down the hall toward the undead, his bat resting casually over his shoulder. He walks up behind the nearest one and smacks it in the back of the head; knocking it face down to the ground at Christie's feet.
  
  "Nice one," Frank says; sticking it in the skull with the blade of his knife.
  
  Mike cracks one over the back of the head with his stick and sends the zombie stumbling toward Christie, who steps nimble aside and trips it to the ground. She is on it at once, stabbing through its skull with one of Frank's hunting knives.
  
  The zombies start to turn around to face you as James takes another one down. "Are you going to help or not?" James growls at you, striking a zombie in the face so hard its jaw rips off of its face.
  
  "I don't have a weapon," you say.
  
  "Why the hell are you out here without a weapon?!" he asks incredulously.
  
  Frank stabs another one in the skull and it drops to the ground. Christie stabs the one beside it to the same effect.
  
  "Frank," Christie said; "Toss Charlie one of your knives." Frank nods and tosses a knife over the heads of the remaining zombies to you. You shrink in fear of being stabbed and it clatters to the ground. The blade is not out, of course.
  
  "Pick it up you idiot," James tells you, smacking the bat into another zombie, sending it sideways to the ground. Mike moves in to wack it over the head repeatedly with his stick until both the skull and the stick crack.
  
  "Damn," Mike says; "I liked that stick." He snaps it the rest of the way over his knee and tosses half of it aside.
  
  You pick the blade up and struggle to open it up. There are only a few zombies still standing between you and the others. Frank stabs the jawless zombie dead, James knocks another one down, and you begin to grow frustrated with the knife as one of the zombies steps past James and toward you. One of them stumbles toward Mike, falling atop his small frame and taking them both to the ground.
  
  "Shit!" Frank screams, he moves toward the tangle of Mike and the zombie and stabs the corpse through the skull two quick times. He rolls the zombie over to find Mike looking extremely relieved.
  
  "The big group is getting closer," Christie warns.
  
  The stray zombie is nearly upon you. "How the FUCK do you open this damn knife?!" You scream.
  
  "There's a button down on the handle!" Frank tells you.
  
  You push the button, a three inch steel blade pops out. Strong fingers grip your shoulder and pull you in. You scream and stab at it with your blade over and over again, finding the skull softer than you expected. Your zombie falls to the ground and you see James, Christie, and Frank standing beside you; the rest of the zombies scattered in black blood and gore around you.
  
  "Nicely done asshole," James says. "Now let's get out of here."
  
  The rest of the zombie hoard is drawing near.
  
  "Let's move," Christie says.
  
  James nods. "Go. I'll bring up the rear."
  
  The others nod and start moving down the hall, Christie taking your hand and pulling you along while Frank runs along beside you. As you make the turn on the hall toward the hall you hear Christie swear.
  
  "There's more up ahead," she says. "If we hurry we can make the hall and move to room 413."
  
  "Lets do it then," you say.
  
  "We need to move," James says. "No more jogging. Run!" He breaks into a run to the abandoned hall. You and Christie try to keep up, keeping a wary eye ahead and praying that you are able to beat the zombies to your destination.
  
  As you reach the toppled trash cans, the zombie hoard is closing in. You try to make the turn hard and end up slamming your shoulder painfully into the wall. James trips over one of the trash cans and you hear a terrible snap as he goes down.
  
  "FUCK!" he screams, clutching at his leg. You can see the bone of his shin pressing awkwardly against the skin.
  
  "Go!" he tells you. "There's no time. Save yourselves."
  
  Frank and Mike nod, jogging down the hall without looking back. Christie takes a moment to think about it before speaking. "We'll leave a circle on the board for you," she says. Then she follows the others, rushing abck to room 413.
  
  You take a moment to stare down at James, then to the closing hoard of zombies. They're just outside of spitting distance, growling and moaning in their approach.
  
  "What are you doing?" James asks, trying to prop himself up against the wall. "Go."
  
  > stay. Help James get to safety.
  You hold your hand out to him.
  
  "What are you doing?" James asks. "Get out of here. Save yourself." He looks over his shoulder to see the zombies are nearly upon him. He looks back to you pleadingly. "Just go, man."
  
  You shake your head. "I'm not leaving you here," you say. "So if you want to get us both killed you just keep refusing my help."
  
  James lets out a frustrated laugh and reaches out to take your hand. You help him up onto his good leg and lend yourself to him as a crutch. Fingers brush and scape at your backs. You and James share a momentary look of shared terror as you can feel them moving more quickly than the two of you are able.
  
  Then you navigate through the toppled line of trash cans and gain some breathing room as the obstacles prove effective against the unthinking dead. They stumble and fall over trash bins and one another as you pass room 407.
  
  409. Some of them are starting to get to their feet.
  
  411. They are moving again, gaining on you.
  
  413. You open the door and James hops inside, leaning on the wall as he moves to the board. You start to push the door closed but a hand reaches in and stops it from shutting.
  
  "Shit!" You cry as a few more hands dart into the door. They are snarling and growling on the other side. "I can't hold them much longer," you tell James as the pressure from the other side becomes more and more intense.
  
  "Come on then," James says, sliding a chair before him like a walker as he makes his way over to the chalkboard portal. Above the portal were two hastily drawn ugly little circles.
  
  "You first," you tell him. "I'll hold the door as long as I can."
  
  James grimaces and nods. "You're still an idiot," he tells you. "I'll see you on the other side." He hops over, knocking over the chair he'd been leaning on; and disappears into a safer place.
  
  Your feet slide back a little more with each push at the door. You look at the last sloppy circle above the portal and take a deep breath.
  
  It's time.
  
  You give the door one fine shove and push off of it, using their weight to help propel yourself to the board. You charge forward as the zombies spilled into the room behind you, the first wave of them falling face first to the ground. Your adrenaline spikes. Things appear to be moving in slow motion with absolute clarity. Your heart pounds in your chest like your feet pound the ground as you surge toward the portal.
  
  The zombies behind you are starting to get to their feet as more spill in through the door. You jump into the board and smack against the slate, your shoulder jarring with the impact. The old board falls from crooked from the wall. Why didn't that work? You rub your shoulder and look at the crooked board. The zombies are moving closer, the first of them already halfway across the room. They make sad hungry sounds as they close in. You look at ugly circle, the imperfection of the symbol. It is an open circle.
  
  You spot the chalk on the ground, having rolled from the tray on the board. It's just a few feet from the zombies. You need to close that circle to get through the portal. Time is of the essence, but can you get there and back to the portal quick enough?
  
  > Quick. Get the chalk.
  You need to run to the chalk, grab it, and completely reverse your momentum in the other direction. Coach Luntz used to make you race other kids in these kinds of drills in gym class. That was back in 5th grade but you were pretty good at it.
  
  You start running as fast as you can toward the chalk and, subsequently; the zombies. Your heart is pounding, you are all nerves. There are a million ways this can go wrong but what choice do you really have?
  
  You slide to a sneaker squeaking halt over top the chalk. You scoop it up with one hand and push off with the other. You feel fingertips brush at your shirt, feel the pull of one grasping it; and you are gone. You cover the ten steps back to the board in no time. You take the chalk close the circle. You try to step through the portal but find it solid against your foot.
  
  "What the fuck?!" You cry out in frustration, searching the portal frantically for what is amiss but finding nothing. The zombies are just a few steps away when you spot it. After you'd slammed sideways into the chalkboard you erased a section of the portal with your jacket.
  
  You draw in the missing section of the portal as they try to grasp at you. There is a shimmer before you as the portal is activated. On the other side you see your friends waiting for you. You close your eyes and step forward.
  
  You are stopped by a pair of strong hands on your shoulders and more tugging at your clothes. They pull you near no matter how you struggle. You try frantically to escape. They take you to the ground and fall upon you in a feeding frenzy.
  
  What will they tell your parents, you wonder absently as your life fades to black.