The urgent command of the red-haired guy pierced the air, a stark reminder of the imminent danger we faced.

"Come on, you need to hurry," his voice carried a note of desperation, urging us forward as the relentless swarm of zombies bore down on us, their numbers multiplying with alarming speed.

With each passing moment, the grotesque horde grew in size, their ghastly visages illuminated by the eerie glow of the moonlight. At a quick glance, I could discern the decay etched into their torn and ragged flesh, a grim testament to their undead nature.

As we ran, a fervent wish danced in my mind, a futile hope that they would slow down, their unnaturally swift pace betraying their true, undead nature. But alas, they pursued us with unyielding determination, their hunger driving them ever closer.

Amidst the chaos, my heart raced as a firmly closed gate loomed ahead, its imposing presence blocking our path to safety. With a surge of adrenaline, I rushed forward, my hands grappling with the cold metal bars in a desperate attempt to force them open. But to no avail—the gate remained steadfast, refusing to yield to my frantic efforts.

Beside me, a boy with light-colored hair shared my frustration, his expression mirroring my own as he stepped forward to lend his strength to the task. But even his efforts were in vain, the gate remaining stubbornly shut against our desperate pleas for escape.

"Darn it! I told you guys we shouldn't have gotten involved," lamented the blonde-haired boy, his voice tinged with regret as he surveyed the dire situation unfolding before us.

As the tension mounted, a lone zombie, faster than the rest, closed in on us with arms outstretched, its grotesque form a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. With a shiver of fear, I cowered instinctively, praying for a miracle to intervene and spare us from its grasp.

And then, just as the creature was upon us, a heavy falling noise reverberated through the air. With a sickening thud, the zombie collapsed to the ground, its advance halted in an instant.

"Hurry!" shouted the guy with the baseball bat, his voice cutting through the chaos like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

Without hesitation, he sprang into action, his weapon poised to strike as he delivered a series of bone-crushing blows to the fallen undead. Dark red blood splattered across the ground, a grim testament to the violence that surrounded us as we fought for our survival in the face of overwhelming odds.

As the fallen zombie lay motionless on the ground, a surge of courage coursed through my veins, emboldening me to take a few steps back from the stubborn gate. With a newfound determination, I watched as the gate slowly creaked open, revealing a sliver of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

Without hesitation, I threw myself forward, my body propelled by sheer adrenaline as I hurled myself towards the nearby door. But in my haste, I collided with the blonde-haired guy, our bodies crashing together with a resounding thud. With a startled cry, the door flung open, sending us both tumbling to the ground in a chaotic heap.

For a moment, the world spun in a dizzying blur as we grappled with the sudden turn of events. Pain flared as we collided with the unforgiving ground, the impact jarring our senses as we rolled over in a tangle of limbs and desperation.

But even as we struggled to regain our bearings, the sounds of battle echoed through the air, a grim reminder of the danger that still lurked nearby. With a sense of urgency, we scrambled to our feet, joining the fray as the other guys continued their valiant fight against the remaining zombies.

Adrenaline surged as we faced the horrors that surrounded us, our hearts pounding in our chests as we fought tooth and nail for our survival. In that moment, fear and determination mingled in equal measure, driving us forward in a desperate bid to escape the clutches of death that threatened to engulf us all.

Glasses called out to blue hair guy, the one clutching the baseball bat, his tone a mix of concern and impatience.

"Ethan, what are you doing? Come on!"

Amidst the chaos, the grey-haired guy added his voice to the fray, his words a sharp reminder of the peril that still lurked outside.

"Come on, hurry! Get inside quick," he urged, his eyes darting nervously towards the looming threat beyond the safety of the door.

With a decisive nod, Ethan abandoned his post, his grip on the baseball bat loosening as he hastened towards the sanctuary of the room. As soon as he crossed the threshold, we acted swiftly, slamming the door shut behind him and securing it with a resounding click.

The sound of the lock engaging echoed through the room, a bittersweet symphony of relief and trepidation. Though safety now lay within our grasp, the toll of the ordeal weighed heavily upon us, every inch of our bodies throbbing with exhaustion and soreness.

Amidst the collective sighs of relief, the red-haired guy with the pipe voiced the sentiment that lingered unspoken in all our minds.

"Oh shit, that was a close one," he muttered, his words a stark reminder of the narrow margin between life and death that we had just narrowly escaped.

But even as a fleeting sense of relief washed over us, a sudden commotion outside shattered the illusion of safety. With a jolt of fear, I realized that the zombies were still out there, their relentless pursuit evident in the frantic banging against the metal bars of the gate.

We had narrowly escaped death's grasp, saved by the timely intervention of the door. The mere thought of what could have been sent shivers down my spine, a chilling reminder of the fragility of life in the face of such relentless horror.

I looked around, the room lay in disarray, a chaotic tableau of disorder and decay that assaulted the senses with its overwhelming presence. A cacophony of odors hung heavy in the air, a noxious blend of mildew and decay that clawed at the throat with every labored breath.

Within the dimly lit space, fragments of furniture lay scattered like fallen soldiers upon a battlefield, their once-grand forms now reduced to mere shadows of their former selves. Splintered wood and shattered glass littered the floor, a treacherous maze of obstacles that threatened to ensnare the unwary.

The walls, adorned with peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster, bore witness to the ravages of time and neglect. Faded hues of once-vibrant colors mingled with the pallor of age, casting a melancholy pall over the room's dilapidated surroundings.

Amidst the chaos, forgotten remnants of a bygone era lay strewn about like forgotten relics of a lost civilization. Tattered curtains hung limply from rusted rods, their once-luxurious fabrics now threadbare and worn.

In the corner, a lone chair lay overturned, its once-sturdy frame now warped and broken beneath the weight of neglect. And yet, amidst the ruin, a sense of melancholic beauty lingered—a poignant reminder of the passage of time and the inevitable decay that awaited all things.

"Are you all right?" Grey hair guy's voice cut through the tension, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow.

Startled, I flinched instinctively before composing myself. "I'm fine," I replied, forcing a reassuring smile. "How about you? Are you hurt?"

Grey hair shook his head, relief washing over his features. "I'm glad to see that you weren't harmed," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude.

But before the moment could linger, red hair guy interjected with his trademark brashness.

"Yo! Stop being lame and let's go inside," he called out impatiently, his tone betraying his eagerness to seek refuge from the looming threat outside.

"Everyone already went in."

A sense of urgency settled over us as we heeded his words, hastening to follow the others into the safety of the room. As we passed by, one guy, who had been watching our exchange with a disapproving frown, wagged his finger in admonishment before disappearing inside.

With a final glance over my shoulder at the barred gate and the relentless pounding of the zombies beyond, I hurried after my companions, grateful for the fleeting respite from the horrors that awaited us outside.

With cautious steps, I followed the group into the dimly lit corridors of the school, the faint echo of our footfalls mingling with the oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. The once-familiar surroundings now seemed shrouded in an eerie veil of decay, the walls adorned with peeling paint and the floors marred by the stains of neglect.

As we ventured deeper into the bowels of the building, shadows danced ominously along the walls, their shifting forms casting twisted shapes that seemed to leer and lunge with malevolent intent. The air itself felt heavy with the weight of untold secrets, each corridor a whispered reminder of the darkness that lurked just beyond our line of sight.

Every creak of the floorboards, every flutter of movement in the darkness, sent shivers coursing down my spine, a primal instinct urging me to flee from the encroaching sense of dread that threatened to consume us all. And yet, despite the palpable sense of unease that permeated the air, there was no turning back—not when our very survival depended on pressing forward into the unknown.

With wary eyes scanning our surroundings for signs of danger, we moved as one, navigating the maze-like corridors with a sense of grim determination. Each step brought us closer to our goal, yet also deeper into the heart of darkness that now gripped the world outside.

This looked very close to where I used to live a few weeks ago, I guess.

Amidst the tense exchange, the blonde guy's voice pierced the air, his frustration palpable as he questioned our actions.

"So why the heck did we even help her?" he demanded, his tone tinged with anger. "You almost got us killed, damn it!"

In response, Glasses one stepped forward, his voice calm yet firm. "Hey, be nice," he admonished gently.

"Anyone would've done the same in that situation."

But the blonde boy's annoyance persisted, his agitation evident in his tone. "This is so annoying," he muttered under his breath, his frustration boiling over.

Interrupting the escalating tension, the red-haired guy spoke up, his exhaustion evident in his weary voice.

"Are you ever not annoyed? Just be quiet, man. I am so tired," he sighed, his words carrying the weight of the ordeal we had just endured.

As the atmosphere grew increasingly strained, I hesitated, unsure if I should interject. But amidst the chaos, a calming presence emerged in the form of Grey hair, his voice steady as he introduced himself.

"I am Harry," he said, his words drawing my attention like a beacon in the darkness.

My eyes widened in surprise as he continued, "My name is Harry."

A sense of wonder tinged my thoughts—had he somehow read my mind?

Breaking the silence with a kind smile, Harry extended his hand towards me and asked, "What's your name?"

His smile, radiant and warm, transformed his features, making his gaze even more captivating than before. I nodded, momentarily caught off guard by his charm, before gathering my composure to respond.

I was about to tell my name, but he was so handsome that I kind of forgot my name there.

"I am Serena," I managed to say, my voice soft yet steady.

"Serena!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes alight with genuine admiration. "Wow, that's a beautiful name."

"Really?" I questioned, surprised by his sincerity.

"Yeah, definitely," he affirmed, his words a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, I found solace in the simple exchange of names, a fleeting connection that offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounded us.

Wow, he's such a Mr. Positive, I felt a bit shy by his friendliness so I looked away.

As the other guys approached, their presence casting a shadow over our brief moment of connection, Glasses one broke the silence with a probing question.

"What are you two doing here?" he inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Harry's response was measured yet filled with a sense of camaraderie. "Just getting acquainted," he explained, his words tinged with a hint of optimism. "Since I feel like we are gonna stay together here for a little longer."

But the blonde guy, ever the cynic, couldn't resist interjecting with a dose of skepticism.

"Knowing people's names ain't gonna keep you alive, you know," he remarked, his tone sharp with criticism.

Annoyance flickered in Harry's eyes as he rebuffed the negativity. "Don't say that," he chided gently. "It's kind of nice that we all met."

The red-haired guy, voiced his agreement with a grunt of frustration, his irritation palpable in the air.

"Nice. Urgh!" he exclaimed, his words laced with exasperation.

As the introductions continued, Lawrence took the opportunity to reveal his own name (The glasses one), breaking the tension with a simple yet significant gesture.

"My name is Lawrence," he announced, his voice steady as he met my gaze.

The name echoed in my mind, a familiar melody that stirred memories just out of reach. "Lawrence," I repeated softly, committing it to memory.

With a smile, I offered my own introduction. "I am Serena," I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.

But as Lawrence continued to speak, a flicker of confusion crossed my mind. "You look like you are a high schooler, am I right?" he remarked, his gaze appraising.

His words caught me off guard, and I glanced around at the group, suddenly aware of the age disparity among us.

"Oh, really? I felt like we were about the same age," I replied, a sense of disorientation creeping into my thoughts.

But amidst the uncertainty, my gaze landed on the figure of the guy from earlier, swinging his baseball bat with a determined resolve. In that moment, gratitude flooded my heart, a silent acknowledgment of the debt owed to him for his bravery in the face of danger. Thanks to him, I had escaped the clutches of the undead, and for that, I would always be grateful.

I offered a hesitant "Hey," but before I could continue, Lawrence interrupted with a gentle correction.

"His name is Ethan," he interjected, his tone firm yet kind.

Ethan, the one who had wielded the baseball bat with such courage, met my gaze with a nod of acknowledgment as Lawrence prompted him to introduce himself. "Why don't you tell our new friend your name," Lawrence urged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

With a resigned sigh, Ethan relented. "It's Ethan," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of weariness.

"Nice to meet you, Ethan," I responded warmly, gratitude swelling within me for his act of bravery. "Thank you for saving me back there."

A new voice joined the conversation, its owner introducing himself as Zion, the red-haired guy.

"Hey, my name is Zion," he declared, his tone brimming with a mixture of caution and authority. "Don't cause any trouble like earlier."

"I will do my best," I assured him, determined to prove myself a worthy addition to their group.

Lawrence, ever the mediator, turned his attention to another member of the group.

"Hey Eugene, are you not going to introduce yourself?" he inquired, his tone tinged with gentle encouragement.

Eugene's response was less enthusiastic, his voice tinged with apathy. "Man, I don't feel like it," he grumbled, his disinterest evident in his demeanor. "This is so pointless."

Okay mister Vanilla what the hell is your problem?

Undeterred, I voiced my desire for harmony within the group. "I just want to get along," I admitted, hoping to bridge the gap between us.

But Eugene's response was cynical, his words dripping with disdain. "Wow, how pathetic and pointless," he scoffed, his bitterness palpable. "Even if we did get along."

Lawrence regarded him with a serious stare, his expression a silent plea for unity amidst the discord.

Eugene's abrupt dismissal hung heavy in the air, his words cutting through the otherwise serene atmosphere like a knife.

"Okay, okay it's Eugene, don't overstay your welcome here though," he muttered, his tone laced with a hint of irritation.

As he strode away, Lawrence, ever the diplomat, stepped forward to smooth over the awkwardness.

"Just shrug it off," he advised, his voice calm and reassuring despite the tension. "Eugene's got a rough tongue. I apologize on his behalf. Why don't you come inside?"

I hesitated, feeling a pang of discomfort at the situation. "You don't need to apologize," I replied, though the words felt inadequate against the lingering unease. Despite Eugene's brusque demeanor, there was something about him that hinted at depths beyond his rough exterior. And as Lawrence extended the invitation, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity. Perhaps there was more to Eugene than met the eye.

The world wasn't exactly a great place either. Thinking about that made me depressed.

Lawrence beckoned us forward with a friendly wave, and we obediently followed him into one of the classrooms, the tension from Eugene's earlier words still lingering in my mind.

As we settled into the space, Harry, ever observant, gently broached the topic of my apparent discomfort. "I noticed you seemed quite uncomfortable around the others," he remarked, his voice soft with concern. "Have you been on your own all this time?"

I fidgeted with a strand of hair, a nervous habit betraying my unease. "Oh, um, yeah," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded in understanding. "I see," he said, his tone sympathetic. "Must have been tough."

His words sparked a pang of longing within me, a sudden rush of memories flooding my mind—my parents, my dear friends—all of whom I missed dearly. Were they okay? What were they doing? The worry gnawed at my insides, threatening to overwhelm me.

Zion's brash interruption jolted me back to the present.

"Wait, are you crying?" he demanded, his tone incredulous. "We freaking saved you, and now you're crying?"

I hastily wiped away the stray tears that had escaped, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Um, no," I stammered, struggling to compose myself. "I...I am just..." My voice trailed off, unable to find the words to explain the sudden rush of emotions that had overtaken me.

I wasn't usually like this. I burst out crying, and my entire face was covered in tears. I wiped them away with my sleeve.

Lawrence fixed Zion with a serious stare, prompting a heated response.

"What? Come on, don't you think it's too much? She's not the only one who's having a hard time," Zion said, his voice rising.

"You don't think this is hard on us? No one here is without problems, man."

Lawrence's expression remained unyielding. "Who says we are?" he snapped. "Just stop."

The room fell silent after Zion's outburst, the tension palpable. What Zion had said was true, and I felt a lump form in my throat as I struggled to contain my emotions.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on my shoulder broke the silence. I turned, my teary eyes meeting Harry's sympathetic gaze.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Don't bottle it up; it's not good for you. Cry it out."

Zion's response was immediate and bitter. "I swear...," he began, then stopped himself. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm an asshole who can't sympathize with people, and now this asshole is going to hit the bed."

With that, Zion stormed out of the classroom, leaving the rest of us in an uncomfortable silence.

I felt a wave of awkwardness wash over me, as if I had made a grave mistake by coming here. My emotions were in turmoil, and I couldn't help but miss my family. The unfamiliar faces around me only added to my nervousness.

Struggling to compose myself, I wiped away the tears that streamed down my face.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice trembling. "It's just that suddenly everyone I knew flashed before my eyes."

Harry's words of comfort came as a gentle breeze. "I'm sure they'll all be fine. You'll definitely see them again."

I nodded, grateful for his reassurance.

"Thank you, Harry. But how about you guys? Don't you have anyone you miss?"

Harry's expression turned somber. "Of course, I lost my mom, and I miss her dearly."

Lawrence's response was more pragmatic. "I miss my family too, but I don't think about them much anymore. It's more important to stay alive."

I then asked the question to Ethan , but my heart sank as I saw Ethan look down, shrug, and avoid eye contact. I regretted my inquiry, realizing that they all had their own tragic stories. They all had lost someone, just like me. It was a tough time for all of us, and I felt a deep sense of solidarity with them.

I leaned back against the wall, seeking solace in its cool surface, when suddenly the door burst open with a resounding bang. A wave of exhaustion washed over the newcomers as they stumbled into the room, their weariness palpable even from a distance.

Who were they?