I have continually questioned why standardized testing existed in the way it did. Exit exams, I get. Even something like the SAT might be okay, if it weren't a privatized industry with a monopoly on required exams. Those were the things that I get pissed about regarding the SAT. Not their ban on cell phones. That part is probably the only part that actually makes sense. Who would've known that would be the bit that screwed us over.

I was just feeling so damn proud of myself for finishing my section when the gun went off. Half the classroom was on its feet a moment later, Alex and myself among that half. If we had been in Texas or at war, maybe a gunshot wouldn't have been very bizarre. I figure they have a lot of guns in Texas. But we were on a school campus in the middle of California, where guns generally meant the police or criminals. Maybe both.

"We should call the police," Sophomore said, before racing to the front of the classroom and searching the front desk for something. "The proctor... He probably... There should be a phone up here."

Sophomore never found a phone, but it didn't matter. As though a group of teenagers faced with the presence of danger weren't going to pull out their phones. Everyone was open either to a text message, camera, or phone call itself within the minute it took us to get the things turned on again.

"I hope this doesn't make our tests not count," Sophomore whispered as she looked around the room.

"Someone probably just died and you're still worried about the test?" Alex asked her, holding a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone.

"Yes, and you should be too!" she said, not much louder than before, but looking far angrier.

As soon as I got my phone on, I texted my dad. I can't remember what it said, just something along the lines of 'need help, gun outside of the classroom' which is arguably one of the most panic-inducing texts a parent could have received, but nonetheless true. Before the text could even fail to send, the lights in the classroom flickered out.

With no windows, the room went dark and stayed that way. I could only see what was happening by the phone screens illuminating everyone's faces.

Alex was the first to talk. She shined her phone over at Sophomore, who had frozen with her arms across her stomach. "Still worried about the test?"

"Oh shut up, Alex. What the hell is going on?" I asked her, reaching back to knock the light away from the younger girl. Underclassmen were annoying sometimes, but so were people being assholes, even when they were your best friend.

The girl with blue hair, who had been in front of us in line, stood up to formally address everyone. It was almost as cheesy as raising her hand, but we weren't exactly having a ball of laughs. "Anyone's phone actually working?"

A sea of shaking heads was her only response and she sighed. "Well I don't want to open the goddamn door. In fact," she paused and walked towards the exit, only getting close enough to lock it firmly before rushing back to her desk. "I'd rather we wait this one out."

If I weren't a moron with more of a deer-in-the-headlights approach than fight or flight, maybe I would have started searching for alternative exits about then. Instead, it wasn't until Alex grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the front of the room that I snapped out of my thoughts.

"We need to figure a way out. Someone far too ready to use a gun is outside, and--"

Outside, someone screamed. It was beyond startled or surprised. It was like--

"Oh my god, someone's getting killed out there!" one of the girls loser to the door shouted, before the kid in a desk nearby shushed her.

Alex squeezed my arm. "Rory. We can't use the door. But there has to be another way out."

"No windows."

"So shit, Sherlock. But there has to be something."

"I mean..." Looking back, damage of government property should have been the least of my concerns. "We could try that wall."

I didn't have my phone's screen on any more, so I emphasized my point by kicking at the wall next to us. It was the only one that probably led into another room. The other walls all bordered the outside, which was pretty close to the worst place to be. We knew that outside was not the best option, we just didn't have any clue how correct that sentiment was. We were thinking more "there could be a murderer outside" and less "there could be a few stragglers from a global plague ready to eat your faces off outside". Granted, both end in death, but the first one is less apocalyptic. I would gladly take a murderer over what seems to be the end of times if you asked me now.

Contrary to what my uncle's shoe at Thanksgiving when I was twelve would say, getting a hole through a wall is really hard. I didn't have any weapons yet, either--Because why the hell would I?--so we tried to jam pencils through the wall as quietly as we could. Wish I had my axe back then. It would have been very helpful.

It took ten agonizing minutes and about half of the wooden pencils we could scrounge from the desks, but we made a hole. I think the others were too afraid to talk, but gradually people began migrating back to see what we were doing. The majority of the classroom was crouched around  the developing hole by the time we were far enough in to start pulling out chunks of insulation.

"What's over there then?" the boy closest to Alex asked.

"Do I look like I know?" she grunted as we finally got to the last layer of the wall. "Moment of truth, dipshit," she hissed over her shoulder to the boy behind her.

This wall cracked easier than the first one, crumbling apart enough for us to see more pitch blackness on the other side.

"Great, more nothing," I muttered, before turning so I could kick out the last bits of the wall. "Well, who wants to go first?"

Alex and I were the first on the other side, despite the protests of three of the boys.

"You asked who's first!" one of them complained, just loud enough that one of the others clamped a hand over his mouth.

"One, shut up. Two, ever heard of a rhetorical question?" Alex hissed before crawling through the hole. I followed before anyone could object.

Shining our phones around the new room, we found nothing but shelves of cleaning solutions that would probably only be helpful if we felt like all dying then and there. Alex and I shifted away from our tunnel as the other started clawing their way through, both of us very interested in finding an exit before the small storage closet became too crowded with terrified teens. Alex found the first way out, a door that was apparently locked from the outside, but, according to my action-movie obsessed friend, "wouldn't be too hard to kick down, probably."

Luckily, I found the ladder before Alex had a chance to accidentally get us all killed. I've learned to recognize things since then, such as the fact that doors being sealed generally means they lead to the outside. Outside = zombies. It didn't back then, not until we got onto the roof.

"Alex, roof access. C'mon," I whispered, tugging her away from the door and towards the ladder, which was attached to a concrete wall.

I'm very glad that hadn't been the one we tried to break through. The pencils probably wouldn't have done much against that stuff. I wasn't exactly Bruce Lee, punching apart cement, and as hilarious as it would have been to watch one of the boys break their hand trying to punch the thing, we had better chances with paint and drywall. If we hadn't been able to get out of the classroom by means other than the door, we would have been in a more intense shitstorm than we were already.

"Do you think it's safe up here?" I asked Alex as we pushed the roof hatch open and blinked at the sudden sunlight. I heard one of the kids below let out a sigh or relief, but no one shouted or spoke. As for me, I kept my voice to a minimum.

Alex didn't answer, just gestured over to the edge before creeping towards it. About a yard from the side, we both knelt down and crawled forward, keeping ourselves out of sight of anyone below. When I finally hazarded a glance over the edge, it was like I got hit by a bus filled with dynamite. I swear, if I weren't still alive to be talking and fighting and telling the story, I would question whether my heart stopped.

"You've fucking kidding me," Alex groaned, leaning her head forward over the edge of the roof.

Below, ten or twelve people shuffled from foot to foot around the area. I might have thought they were just tired of testing if not for the fact that one of the girls was missing an arm. Another looked as though he has tried tye-dying his shirt red and it had gone terribly wrong. 

You're kidding me is right, Alex. No one told me there was a zombie apocalypse scheduled for while I was taking the damn SAT.

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Thanks for reading! From this point forward, I'm really just going with whatever happens, so how about you guys help decide:

Should Rory and Alex stay with the group, or go off on their own?

Comment below which you want, and leave a star if you feel like it.