<strong>Michael Winters</strong><br/><br/>Michael had waited until the students were all inside the auditorium before he left his ‘post’ near the double door entrance. He walked down the hallway on his way back to his classroom, unaware of the severity of the situation just outside the High School. He knew that the riots were getting out of control. He knew that the school was being evacuated in the interest of the student’s safety. But he was still under the assumption that the riots were mostly on the east side of town, totally unaware that they were, in fact, just outside the school... and he didn’t know the rioters were in fact a mass horde of mindless zombies. After all, zombies didn’t exist.<br/><br/>Unlocking the door to his classroom he quickly moved inside to retrieve his briefcase. In all the commotion earlier, he had forgotten it. He kept his cell phone and all his school papers inside, as well as the new playbook he had been working on for next season’s new offensive scheme which he planned to install during the fall.<br/><br/>With his briefcase in had, Michael closed the door behind him once again, giving the key a quick turn and checking the door to ensure it was indeed locked. He turned to return to the auditorium where the other teachers were most likely gathered discussing their next move and scrutinizing the state and city’s emergency guidelines.<br/><br/>”Mr. Winters.” It was Mrs. Neuman, and she looked none too happy. She was short woman with salt-and-pepper hair (mostly salt) and sharp, pointed facial features which betrayed her rather plump figure. She glared at Michael of the rim of her rather thick, old fashioned style bi-focals, her hands on her hips and her lips in a tightly formed straight line across her face.<br/><br/><strong>”Mrs. Neuman. Can I help you with something?”</strong>His voice was smooth and calm.<br/><br/>”Hmmpf! I bet you say that to a lot of your female students, don’t you Mr. Winters? I’ve had my eye on you for some time now and I know what you are, Mr. Winters. I know all about your ‘extracurricular activity’ with certain female students. I’ve suspected for quite some time now…”<br/><br/>Michael felt the flood drain from his face and his stuck in his throat. He tried to feign outrage at her allegations.<strong>”Mrs. Neuman! How dare you accuse me of such perversions!”</strong>he interrupted.<strong>”Your insinuations are an insult to my integrity and my profe…</strong>”<br/><br/>”You HAVE no integrity, Mr. Winters!” She brought her hand up in a smug gesture. Her plump fingers, adorned with numerous rings of varying sizes and gems gripped a VHS tape. ”and I finally have the proof I need.”<br/><br/>Michael felt his heart fall from his throat and sink into the pit of his stomach. His eyes were fixated on the tape and his mouth suddenly felt full of cotton. He swallowed, trying to produce some spit and moisten his mouth.<strong>”You don’t … what’ve you got there, Mrs. Neuman? I’ll tell you what you’ve got, NOTHING! Now, if you don’t mind I have to get…”</strong>He hoped she was bluffing, trying to coax a confession from him. She wagged the tape at him before stuffing it in her oversized purse and zipping it shut.<br/><br/>“Oh, I’m willing to bet that the Board of Education as well as the RPD would hardly call video evidence of a certain high school cheerleader engaged in sexual acts with one of her teachers… and on his desk… “NOTHING!” Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Winters?” He was caught. He was speechless. She knew about his session with Brandee James, the smoking hot, leggy brunette cheerleader with the bubble butt. His mind raced, trying to find a way out of this one.<em>”‘If she knows about her, she must be telling the truth about the video. But how did she get video of us? None of the classroom’s had any cameras!”</em>He thought, searching for answers. Noting his alarm, she smirked. ”Oh, Mr. Winters… you didn’t know about the new security cameras that were installed in all the classrooms last weekend, did you?” She smirked somewhat victoriously which quickly faded into a disgusted scowl. She slowly turned, heading towards the auditorium to find Principal Carlson and report her findings. ”Good day Mr. Winters!” she huffed and marched down the hall away from him.<br/><br/>He stood there watching her storm away, his mind and heart both racing. Pleading, he started after her,<strong>”Mrs. Neuman! Please, wait! Surely we can work someth…”</strong>Suddenly a cacophony of terrified screams spilled from the auditorium and flooded the hallways.<br/><br/>Students erupted from the auditorium sprinting and screaming in a crazed panic as they charged towards Mrs. Neuman and Michael seeking a means of escape. Mrs. Neuman screamed with surprise and tried to turn and run but was far too slow. She was knocked to the floor and trampled, crushed to death by the surging masses of frightened students. Michael watched in horror as Mrs. Neuman disappeared under the stampede and promptly pivoted, sprinting ahead of the wall of bodies headed in his direction.<br/><br/>Reaching the intersecting hallway, he nimbly rounded the corner and dashed towards one of the schools back doors. Bursting through the double doors, he kept running until he reached the gravel parking lot. Stopping to turn around, he watched as students poured out through the doors and scurried in every direction. Some ran to their cars that were parked in the gravel parking lot. Others ran west and south towards the river and the docks, respectively.<br/><br/>Beyond the students that poured from the school, beyond the school building itself Michael’s attention was captured by the unbelievable scene. He heard the distinct<em>pok pok pok</em>of small arms fire mixed with the sounds of men yelling and screaming. Beneath it all was an eerie underlying, droning …<em>moaning</em>sound. As if hundreds of people were all groaning and moaning in disgust. The strobes of emergency response vehicles created a broken line along Ennerdale and Fox street in an attempt to form a makeshift barricade. Their attempt had obviously failed and the rioters were streaming through a slow, ambling pace towards the parking lot.<br/><br/>Travis Wynn ran up to Michael and grabbed his arm. “Coach! Coach! We gotta get the hell outta here! The rioters are killing people, Coach! Come’on!” Travis was a senior linebacker and the team’s defensive captain. He was one of the meanest, toughest kids on the team. To see fear in his eyes was something Michael had never witnessed… until now. The huge linebacker grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the field house.<br/><br/>Reaching his truck, he quickly unlocked the door and tossed his briefcase inside. Travis climbed into the cabin and closed the door and yelled. “Coach! Come on!” Michael watched as some of the rioters began making their way along the side of the building towards the rear entrance where students were still streaming from the door.<br/><br/>In a panicked moment of adrenalin, Michael yelled and waves his arms towards the students.<strong>”LOOK OUT! GET OUTTA THERE!”</strong>One of the leading rioters turned the corner and grabbed a young girl who ran out, screaming. Unfortunately, she got too close to the rioter who grabbed her and sunk his teeth into her face, tearing a huge flap of flesh from her cheek. She screamed and flailed in futility as blood sprayed from her face and stained her clothes. A couple of boys fought with the rioter, trying to help free the girl without success.<br/><br/>Michael jumped into his truck and keyed the engine, pressing the accelerator and making the engine growl angrily. He grabbed the shifter on the floor and put it into gear, racing towards the back door of the building and honking his horn wildly. A small group of rioters had nearly made their way around to the back door. The girl had been dragged several feet away from the door and now lay on the ground, her attacker on his hands and knees as he tore at her neck with his blood covered face. He knew the girl was dead and was determined to keep the small group of rioters from reaching the back doors.<br/><br/>Weaving his way carefully through the fleeing, panic-stricken students, he pressed on the horn, holding it down continuously. Reaching an area that was clear of students, he lined up his approach and barreled into the small group of blood stained rioters sending most of them flying through the air after crashing into his front bumper. A couple of them rolled underneath the truck’s large tires causing the truck to bounce a little. He slammed on the breaks and got out of the truck and grabbed the baseball bat he kept behind the bench seat of his pickup. Striding over to the rioter who had attacked that poor girl, he lifted the bat high over head and, without hesitation, brought it down with a mighty blow to the man’s head which caved into a gooey mess around his bat. Travis sat quietly, his eyes wide as he stared ahead in shock at what he had just witnessed.<br/><br/>Marching back to his truck, he climbed inside, placing the bat across his lap. Putting the truck in gear once again, he began to pull away just as several students ran up to his truck and began to climb into the truck bed. He slid the rear window open and yelled back to them<strong>”Hang on!”</strong>before speeding away from the horrific scene. He didn’t know where he was going yet. Just, away. He headed west, crossed over Darius Street before hanging a left and connecting with the bridge leading across Circular River.<br/><br/>As they passed students and other people fleeing across the bridge, the cabin of his truck was very quiet. Neither he nor Travis spoke a word.<br/><br/>