𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄. step up

THE ART ROOM WAS A SANCTUARY, a hollowed-out space where the echoes of a life they barely remembered lingered in the stale air. It was brighter here than in the hallways — the wide windows allowed the moonlight to stream in, bathing the room in a silvery glow. Long-abandoned tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly, their surfaces coated in a fine layer of dust. The faint scent of paint and clay still clung to the air, mingling with the ever-present stench of death that had seeped into every corner of their world.

The three of them sat in a loose triangle on the floor, legs crossed, their bodies exhausted but their spirits buoyant. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they allowed themselves to relax.

Jade leaned back against a chair, her makeshift spear resting beside her, its jagged tip stained with gore. Wendy sat cross-legged, her bow laid carefully across her lap, her fingers idly brushing against the smooth wood. Enzo was sprawled on his side, his duct-taped arms pillowed beneath his head as he fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve.

The vending machine haul had been a miracle.

Bags of chips, candy bars, and a couple of cans of soda had spilled from the shattered glass with an almost absurd bounty. They had scrambled to gather it all, laughing breathlessly as they darted back to the art room, their boots scuffing against the floor as they carried their loot like victorious hunters returning from a successful hunt.

Now, they were sharing the spoils, ripping into crinkling bags and tearing foil wrappers with the desperate glee of people who hadn't eaten properly in days. The sink in the corner, ancient but still functional, provided a weak but steady stream of water. It was lukewarm and tasted faintly of rust, but it was clean enough to drink, and that was all that mattered to them. They took turns filling their mouths and cupping their hands to drink, the water washing away the metallic tang of blood and fear that had lingered on their tongues.

As they ate, they talked. It started small — a few murmured comments about the vending machine raid, a shared joke about the candy bars being "aged to perfection," their laughter hesitant at first but growing louder as the tension in their bodies eased.

Enzo was the first to break the pattern of surface-level chatter. He sat up, brushing crumbs off his lap, and cleared his throat theatrically. His grin was crooked, and his dark eyes sparkled with a mischief that Wendy hadn't seen in what felt like years.

"Alright," he said, gesturing grandly with a half-eaten bag of chips. "I'm going to tell you the single dumbest thing I ever did before all this happened."

Jade snorted, popping a piece of candy into her mouth. "This better be good."

"Oh, it's good," Enzo promised, leaning forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "So, back in school, I worked at this pizza place, right? Not one of the good ones — this was the kind of place where the cheese was more plastic than dairy. Anyway, one night, I'm working the closing shift, and it's dead quiet. I get bored, and I start messing around with the dough."

Wendy raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "Messing around how?"

"I'm glad you asked." Enzo's grin widened. "See, I decided I was going to make the biggest pizza in the world. Like, Guinness World Records level. I rolled out this massive slab of dough, covered the entire counter with it. It was a work of art. But then, genius that I am, I realize I've got no way to bake it. The ovens are too small."

Jade snickered. "Let me guess — you tried anyway."

"Of course I did." Enzo spread his hands as if the answer was obvious. "I folded it like some kind of calzone and shoved it in there. It didn't fit, so I just... kept squishing it in. Ten minutes later, the whole place smells like burning dough, and smoke is pouring out of the oven. My boss walks in and starts screaming his head off, and I'm just standing there, covered in flour, trying to act like I didn't just burn down the kitchen."

Wendy couldn't help it — she laughed, the sound bursting out of her like a release valve. It was loud and unrestrained, and it felt so foreign that for a moment, it startled her. Jade was laughing too, her head thrown back, her cheeks flushed with mirth. Enzo basked in their laughter like it was a standing ovation, bowing dramatically and pretending to tip an imaginary hat.

The room felt lighter, the shadows less oppressive, as if their laughter had chased away some of the darkness. For a brief, fleeting moment, it was almost possible to forget the horrors that waited outside the door.

They were just three kids, sharing snacks and telling stories in the back of an art room, the world outside as distant as a bad dream.

But the dream was shattered by the sound of a wet, gurgling moan. It started faintly, barely audible over their laughter, but it grew louder, closer, until it seemed to fill the room.

They froze, their smiles fading, their bodies tensing as their eyes darted toward the door. The doorknob rattled slightly, a low, guttural groan slipping through the thin barrier. The sound was wet and sickly, like air being forced through a throat filled with fluid.

Jade was the first to move. She put a finger to her lips, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and exhilaration, and she smiled — a small, mischievous smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The absurdity of it was contagious, and Wendy found herself stifling a giggle, her shoulders shaking with the effort. Enzo's face broke into a grin, and he covered his mouth with his hand, his body trembling with suppressed laughter.

Wendy's chest swelled with a strange, bittersweet mix of emotions — relief, exhaustion, hope. They had survived the mission, made it to the second floor, found food and water. For now, they were alive.

The room felt still, save for the faint echo of their giggles and the occasional gurgle of the geek just outside the door. The moment had stretched into something rare and precious, a shard of glass reflecting light in the middle of the darkness they had all grown too accustomed to.

Jade leaned back against one of the tables, her fingers brushing over the splintered edges of the table's leg. Her eyes flicked between Wendy and Enzo, who were watching her with an expectant, almost reverent quietness.

Jade wasn't used to being the center of attention. Before all of this — before the crash, the blood, and the endless fight for survival — she had been the girl who faded into the background. The one who showed up to practice early but never drew notice, who lingered at the edges of conversations without ever truly stepping into them. And yet, here she was now, at the center of their makeshift circle, the leader of the moment.

She smiled, a small, self-deprecating grin that didn't quite reach her eyes but hinted at something deeper. "Alright," she said, her voice soft but steady, "you want a story? I'll give you a story."

Enzo tilted his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he stretched out on the floor, propping himself up on one elbow. Wendy crossed her legs beneath her, leaning forward slightly as she rested her chin on her palm.

Jade took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor as if she were gathering the words from the dust and grime that coated it. "So, before all of this," she began, gesturing vaguely to encompass the world outside the door, "I used to have this thing about dying."

Enzo raised an eyebrow, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. "You mean like... a fear of it?"

Jade shrugged, her fingers tracing aimless patterns on the floor. "Not exactly. I wasn't scared of dying, not in the way most people are. It was more like... I thought it was something that happened to other people. You know? Like, I'd see it in movies or hear about it on the news, and it just felt so far away. Like it wasn't real."

Wendy nodded, her expression unreadable but her gaze unwavering. She understood what Jade meant — how death had always been this abstract concept, something that existed in whispers and shadows but never touched the edges of their neatly ordered lives.

Jade chuckled softly, the sound low and rueful. "But then, when everything went to hell, I started thinking about it a lot more. Like, way more than is probably healthy. And you know what's funny? It still didn't scare me. Not really."

Enzo blinked, clearly surprised. "Not even with all the geeks out there?"

"Not even then," Jade said firmly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I mean, don't get me wrong — I don't want to die. But I guess I've just always thought... if it happens, it happens. You know? Like, there's no point in freaking out about it, because what's the alternative? Hiding under a desk for the rest of my life?" She snorted, shaking her head. "No thanks."

Wendy's lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained somber. "You're braver than most people," she said quietly.

Jade shrugged again, her gaze distant as if she were looking through the walls, through time itself. "It's not about being brave," she said softly. "It's about... I don't know, perspective? Like, the way I see it, if I'm going to go out, I want it to mean something. I don't want to just be some nameless body in a hallway, you know? I want to go out swinging. I want to leave a mark."

Enzo's grin returned, though it was softer now, tinged with admiration. "You're full of surprises."

She laughed, a real, full-bodied laugh that lit up her face and made her seem, for a moment, like the girl she might have been in another life. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it," she teased, nudging him with the toe of her shoe.

There was a beat of silence, the three of them sitting together in the glow of their shared humanity. Then, Jade tilted her head, her smile turning mischievous. "You know what's really funny, though? The thing I am afraid of?"

Enzo raised both eyebrows, leaning forward as if he couldn't wait to hear what she'd say next. "What?"

"Birds," Jade said matter-of-factly.

Wendy blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Birds?"

"Yep. Birds," Jade repeated, her expression completely serious. "They freak me the hell out. All those feathers and beady little eyes? No thank you."

Enzo burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he rolled onto his back. "Out of all the things to be scared of... you pick birds?"

Jade crossed her arms, feigning indignation. "Hey, don't laugh! Have you ever seen a goose up close? Those things are terrifying."

Wendy shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "You're unbelievable."

"Maybe," Jade said with a grin. "But at least I'm consistent."

The lighthearted air in the room persisted for a moment longer, their laughter a threadbare reprieve from the horrors outside.

Enzo tilted his head back and tossed a bright orange Cheeto into the air. It arced clumsily, wobbling mid-flight, but he snapped his mouth open and caught it with an audible crunch.

Jade clapped her hands together in mock applause, her expression exaggeratedly impressed. "Bravo! Bravo!" she whispered with a grin, mindful of the sound carrying beyond their safe little sanctuary.

Enzo placed a hand over his heart and gave a deep, theatrical bow — his upper body dipping low, though his legs remained lazily crossed on the floor. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all apocalypse."

Wendy couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. It was small and fleeting, but it was real. She watched the two of them with a quiet fondness that surprised even herself. Their antics, their laughter, the simple absurdity of Enzo catching a Cheeto as though they weren't surrounded by death — it was grounding in a way she hadn't expected. It tethered her to the present, to the fragile but undeniable reality that she wasn't alone.

For a moment, she let herself linger in that thought.

Not alone.

She had spent so much of her life tethered to someone else. It had always been Glenn, her constant companion through childhood and adolescence. He was the one who brought her pizza — cold, forgotten leftovers from the delivery jobs he hated but stuck with because they helped pay for her archery competitions. He was the one who sat in the bleachers, a lone figure in a sea of empty seats, cheering for her like she was an Olympic gold medalist.

Glenn had been her anchor, her confidant, the one who always knew how to make her laugh when the weight of the world felt too heavy.

And then, in a blink, he was gone. Not dead, as far as she knew, but absent in a way that cut deeper than she wanted to admit. She didn't know where he was or if he was even alive. But in the quiet moments, when the chaos subsided and the world seemed to hold its breath, she let herself wonder.

Was he out there, somewhere, thinking of her the way she thought of him? Did he miss her? Was he searching for her, retracing the steps of their lives together, hoping against hope that they'd somehow find each other again?

The thought should have been comforting, but it wasn't. It was terrifying. Because what if he wasn't alive? What if she was clinging to a ghost, to a memory that could never be made whole again?

Wendy shook her head slightly, as if to banish the thought. She couldn't let herself spiral. Not now. Not when she had Jade and Enzo. They were her reality now, her tether. And as much as she missed Glenn, as much as it hurt to carry the weight of his absence, it was softened — just a little — by the two people sitting with her in this battered art room.

"Jade," Wendy said softly, her voice breaking the gentle hum of their quiet camaraderie.

Jade looked up, her eyes curious but calm. "Yeah?"

Wendy hesitated for a moment, the words catching in her throat. She wasn't used to this — expressing gratitude, especially not in a world where survival left little room for vulnerability. But she forced herself to push past the discomfort, to let the words come.

"I just..." Wendy glanced down at her hands, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her bow. "I just wanted to say thank you."

Jade blinked, clearly taken aback. "For what?"

"For getting me off my ass," Wendy said with a faint smile, her voice tinged with self-deprecation. "For pushing us to leave the bathroom. I was... I was stuck. Stuck in my head, stuck in my fear. And if it weren't for you..." She trailed off, her gaze distant for a moment before refocusing on Jade. "If it weren't for you, we probably would've died in there." Jade opened her mouth as if to respond, but Wendy held up a hand, stopping her. "No, let me finish," she said. "You were right. I was being stubborn. I'd given up — on hope, on survival, on everything. I didn't want to admit it, but I was scared. Not of dying, but of trying. Of risking what little we had left. And you... you didn't let me stay in that place. You didn't let me give up. So, thank you. For reminding me what it means to fight."

The room was silent for a moment, save for the faint drip of water from the sink and the muffled gurgle of the geek outside. Enzo glanced between the two women, his usual smirk replaced with something softer, something almost reverent.

Jade looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her makeshift spear. "I just..." She hesitated, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "I just didn't want to die in a bathroom."

Wendy laughed softly, the sound carrying a note of bittersweetness. "Well, mission accomplished."

The three of them sat there for a while longer, the weight of Wendy's words settling over them like a blanket. It wasn't the kind of warmth that erased the cold — it didn't make the world outside any less dangerous or their situation any less dire.

THE SOUND OF BIRDS BROKE THE silence first — soft chirps and melodic trills that filtered through the cracked glass of the art room's solitary window. They seemed to come from somewhere distant yet familiar, the kind of sound Wendy had once associated with mornings of unbroken calm.

For a brief moment, as she blinked awake, Wendy forgot the world she now lived in. She forgot the grime caked under her nails, the ache that seeped into her muscles, and the ever-present shadow of death.

The light streaming through the window was delicate, catching on the remnants of paints and dried glues that clung to the art room's battered tables. It warmed her face, and for one fleeting heartbeat, she allowed herself to sink into the illusion of normalcy.

But then the ache in her body made itself known — a sharp twinge in her shoulders from wielding her bow for too long, the stiffness in her legs from sleeping on the cold, unforgiving floor. Her stomach growled faintly, and the memories of the previous day returned like an unwelcome tide. The chase through the halls, the mission to the second floor, the slim but satisfying bounty from the vending machines.

This was her reality now, and it was as brutal as it was unforgiving.

Wendy turned her head to the side, her gaze falling on her companions. Enzo lay sprawled on his back, his makeshift shield propped against his chest like a sentinel even in sleep. Jade was curled into herself, her hands clutching the handle of her spear like a child holding onto a favorite stuffed animal.

They looked so peaceful, their faces slack and untroubled, as if they were dreaming of a world far removed from this one.

She didn't want to disturb them. Let them rest, she thought. They'd earned it.

Quietly, Wendy rose to her feet, her body protesting with a series of cracks and creaks. She padded across the room, her movements deliberate to avoid waking the others. The art room was a treasure trove of supplies, its cabinets and drawers still largely intact. There were markers, sketchpads, rulers, and scissors. Crayons and oil pastels lay scattered across one table, their vibrant colors a strange juxtaposition to the gray, lifeless world beyond the window.

Wendy grabbed a sheet of paper and a black marker, her mind already racing with ideas. She needed a plan. Something concrete, something actionable. Yesterday's success had been a small victory, but it was just the beginning. If they were going to take back the school — and survive — they needed more than luck. They needed strategy.

She spread the paper out on the table, smoothing it with her palms, and began to draw.

The layout of the school emerged from her memory, the marker's tip gliding across the page in firm, deliberate strokes.

Three floors. Long hallways flanked by rows of classrooms, each one a potential death trap or sanctuary depending on how they played their cards. There was the roof, accessible via the main staircase, though she doubted they'd use it for anything other than reconnaissance or, in the worst-case scenario, escape. Or maybe to write SOS with broken desks and table legs.

Then there were the auxiliary buildings. The cafeteria sat in a completely separate structure, connected to the main school by a covered walkway. It was likely swarming with geeks now. The gym and athletic department were in another building entirely. Wendy remembered the narrow locker rooms, the wide-open expanse of the basketball court. Both spaces could be useful if cleared — but not yet. Those would come later.

For now, the focus was the main building. It had the essentials: water, shelter, and visibility. If they could take control of it floor by floor, they'd have a solid base of operations.

She sketched out the first floor in greater detail. The classrooms there were smaller, mostly for the lower grades. Each one would have a storage cabinet, and Wendy recalled that many teachers kept bottled water tucked away for emergencies or classroom parties. The real treasure, though, would be the teacher's closets scattered throughout the floor. That was where they might find cleaning supplies, flashlights, and other tools.

The second floor was their current territory, and she marked it with an X. They'd already scavenged the vending machines here, but there were still rooms they hadn't checked. Some classrooms had mini-refrigerators or supply closets of their own.

The third floor would be the most challenging. It was where the administrative offices were located, along with the library. Wendy knew it would be heavily infested — geeks tended to cluster near places that had once seen a lot of human traffic. But if they could clear it, the library could be a goldmine. Thick books made excellent shields, and there was always the off chance they'd find something useful in the staff lounge.

Wendy paused, her marker hovering over the map. The question of how to divide their forces nagged at her. They needed to cover as much ground as possible, but splitting up entirely would be too risky.

Enzo and Jade, she decided, would stick together. Jade had found a surprising reserve of courage over the past day, but Wendy wasn't about to test its limits by leaving her alone. Enzo, now refueled and revitalized, could protect her — or fight alongside her if need be. They could handle the first floor together, methodically sweeping each room, collecting supplies, and closing off exits and entrances.

Wendy, on the other hand, would take the second floor on her own. She had more experience operating solo, and she trusted her ability to stay quiet and evade detection. Besides, she'd already scouted parts of the second floor, and she knew the layout better than either of the others. She could handle it.

The third floor, as Wendy envisioned it, would be their crucible. If the second floor was their haven, a space to recover and regroup, then the third floor would be the battlefront, the last stronghold of chaos within the main building.

Its labyrinthine layout was both an advantage and a curse. The long administrative hallway was lined with offices, each with its own heavy door, many of which were still closed. Closed doors meant uncertainty — anything could be behind them. But if they could clear it, the third floor could become a fortress, its vantage point above the lower levels making it ideal for defense.

Wendy returned to her makeshift map, her marker carving out each detail with care. The library was her focus now. Positioned at the far end of the third floor, it would be both a treasure trove and a logistical nightmare. The shelves were heavy, sturdy, and still full of books that could be repurposed into shields or barriers. But the enclosed space, the lack of visibility around the corners of tall bookshelves, meant it would also be a deathtrap if the geeks overwhelmed them.

Once the floor was clear, they would need to fortify it. Wendy sketched heavy lines over the map, marking where they could block entrances. The stairwell doors were an obvious priority — fortified with desks or filing cabinets, they would prevent geeks from wandering up from the lower floors. The hallway itself could be sectioned off with barricades. The library's furniture, though cumbersome, would make ideal barriers if dismantled properly.

The roof, she decided, would be their disposal site. Dragging the corpses up there would be grueling, backbreaking work, but it was better than leaving them to rot within the school.

Wendy had seen what prolonged exposure to decaying bodies could do — the way the smell seeped into walls and floors, how it clung to the air and made every breath a torment. By moving the bodies to the roof, they could contain the stench and avoid contaminating the spaces they lived in.

Satisfied with her plan for the main building, Wendy turned her attention to the other structures.

The athletic department loomed in her mind, a sprawling complex of gyms, locker rooms, and storage areas. It would be the next logical step after securing the school, and the potential rewards were tantalizing.

The archery team's equipment alone could make the entire operation worthwhile. She could almost picture the quivers of arrows lined up neatly, the bows waiting to be claimed. They could use every single one — bows were quiet, efficient, and allowed them to take down geeks from a distance without risking close combat.

The JROTC room would be another priority. Wendy remembered passing it during her time in the school. The room had always seemed like a miniature armory, filled with replica weapons, weighted training rifles, and military surplus gear. While most of it would be non-lethal or ceremonial, there might still be useful items: compasses, multitools, or even gear that could be repurposed for protection.

She turned her thoughts to the weight training room. The dumbbells and barbells were unwieldy as traditional weapons, but they had potential. A barbell shaft could be converted into a spear or battering ram, and the weights themselves could be used as projectiles or to reinforce barricades. Wendy could imagine Enzo wielding one with ease, swinging it like a medieval mace to crush a geek's skull.

Then there were the lacrosse sticks. Their long, sturdy shafts could be modified into weapons with a bit of ingenuity. The netting at the end could be removed and replaced with blades or nails, turning them into a brutal yet effective melee weapon. The hockey sticks from the equipment room might serve a similar purpose, their curved ends ideal for hooking or tripping enemies.

The cafeteria would be their final target. Wendy knew it would be the hardest to clear, not just because of the potential number of geeks but because of its sheer size and open layout.

Every inch of the space would need to be combed through, every shadow checked for lurking threats. But the reward would be worth it: industrial-sized containers of food, bottled water, and cooking equipment.

The cafeteria could sustain them for weeks if they played their cards right.

Wendy's marker paused mid-stroke as she glanced up from the map spread out before her. Enzo had stirred first, rolling onto his back with a stretch so exaggerated his joints cracked in protest. Jade followed suit, her movements slower, her hand instinctively reaching to brush strands of hair from her face.

The morning light filtering through the windows softened the harsh lines of their faces, revealing the lingering exhaustion and, beneath it, something else — a glimmer of resilience.

For a moment, Wendy just watched them, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was strange to think how quickly they'd become essential to her, how the thought of facing this fractured world without them now seemed inconceivable. But there was no time to dwell on sentiment.

She stood, brushing the dust from her knees, and crossed the room with a kind of restrained energy, the weight of the plan she had been formulating all morning pushing her forward.

"Morning," she said softly, the word more an acknowledgment than a greeting. She crouched down as Enzo sat up, running a hand through his unkempt hair, and Jade blinked at her, groggy but alert. The two of them stretched, their movements deliberate and careful, as if their bodies remembered every ache and bruise from the day before.

Wendy wasted no time. As they shook off the remnants of sleep, she spread the map out on the floor between them, smoothing the edges with her hands. "I've been thinking," she began, her tone steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "About how we do this — how we take the school."

Despite their obvious grogginess, Enzo and Jade leaned in, their attention sharpening. Wendy had learned quickly that leadership wasn't just about having a plan; it was about presenting it in a way that made others believe in it, believe in you. She took a deep breath, grounding herself, and began to explain.

She described the strategy for sectioning off the floor, the importance of securing the stairwell doors and creating barricades. Her hands moved over the map as she spoke, tracing the path they would take, pointing to the rooms they would target. "We'll split up for this," she said, her voice firm. "Enzo, you'll stay with Jade. You're strong enough to handle close combat, and she's found her confidence — together, you can clear rooms efficiently. I'll take the other side. I know how to handle being alone."

She glanced up to gauge their reactions. Enzo nodded, his usual humor replaced by a rare seriousness. Jade was quiet, her gaze fixed on the map, but there was a determination in her posture that hadn't been there before. Encouraged, Wendy pressed on.

She described the plan for the library, detailing how they would dismantle the shelves to use as barricades once the space was cleared. She outlined the process of moving the bodies to the roof, explaining the necessity of keeping the living spaces free of the stench of decay. "It'll be hard," she admitted, not shying away from the reality of the work ahead. "But it's necessary. We can't let the smell overwhelm us."

As she spoke, she noticed how the two of them were beginning to lean in, their initial grogginess giving way to focus.

They asked questions — Enzo about the logistics of moving the bodies, Jade about how they would fortify the barricades. Wendy answered each one with the same steady resolve, her confidence in the plan unwavering. She could feel the weight of their trust, and it bolstered her own resolve.

When she moved on to the athletic department, her voice took on a note of excitement. She described the potential weapons and tools they could find there: the bows and arrows from the archery team, the lacrosse sticks that could be modified into melee weapons, the sturdy shafts of hockey sticks. She even mentioned the weights from the weight training room, outlining how they could be repurposed for combat or defense.

"Everything has a use," she said, her tone almost reverent. "We just have to be smart enough to see it."

The cafeteria was first, and Wendy spoke of it with a mix of hope and caution. She described the challenges they would face clearing it — the open layout, the potential number of geeks — but also the rewards it offered: food, water, cooking equipment. "It's the long game," she said. "It'll sustain us when everything else runs out. But we can't get ahead of ourselves. One step at a time."

When she finished, the room was silent for a moment, save for the distant chirping of birds outside the window. Wendy sat back on her heels, her gaze shifting between Enzo and Jade. She could feel her heart pounding, the adrenaline from laying it all out still coursing through her veins. "So?" she asked finally, her voice quieter now, almost tentative.

Enzo was the first to respond. He leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?" he said, his tone half-admiring, half-teasing. Jade, meanwhile, was nodding, her expression serious but her eyes bright with determination.

"I'm in," Jade said simply, her voice steady. Enzo echoed her sentiment with a thumbs-up.

Wendy nodded solemnly, her resolve sharp and deliberate. She reached into the pile of snacks they'd scavenged the day before and pulled out three small, brightly colored packets of fruit snacks.

In another time, the sight of the cartoonish packaging might have sparked nostalgia or amusement, but now, it was simply fuel — calories and sugar to keep their bodies moving.

Without a word, she handed one to Jade, then to Enzo, and kept the last for herself. Her gesture was firm, almost commanding: Eat. We start now.

They tore into the packets in silence, the waxy fruit shapes disappearing quickly, their sugar jolting sleepy minds into action. Wendy folded the crinkled wrapper into a small square, tucking it into her pocket out of habit, and then rose to her feet. The map she had drawn lay on the floor, its lines stark and decisive, a blueprint for survival. She tapped a finger on the section of the map that represented the second floor, marking their starting point. Her plan was already in motion.

"Let's move," she said, her voice low but firm. Enzo and Jade exchanged glances, then nodded. They knew what was expected of them, what the stakes were. There was no time for hesitation.

They separated at the top of the second-floor stairwell, the echoes of their footfalls fading as Enzo and Jade turned left and Wendy turned right. She glanced back once, watching the pair disappear into the shadowy corridor, Enzo's tall frame a reassuring presence beside Jade's smaller, slighter one. Then she turned her attention forward, gripping her bow tightly. The air felt heavier now, the silence of the school oppressive and charged with an eerie tension.

Wendy moved cautiously, each step deliberate, her eyes scanning the dim hallway for any sign of movement. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered sporadically, casting long, wavering shadows that played tricks on her vision.

The familiar ache in her body — the residual soreness from yesterday's battles — was both a hindrance and a grounding force, a reminder that she was alive, that she had survived another day.

The smell hit her first, as it always did. The stench of decay was impossible to ignore, a sickly, sour tang that clung to the walls and seeped into her clothes. Wendy's nose wrinkled, but she pressed on, forcing herself to breathe shallowly through her mouth. She rounded a corner and froze, her heart skipping a beat.

A geek stood in the middle of the hallway, its back to her. Its movements were sluggish, its head tilting unnaturally as if sniffing the air. Wendy felt a surge of adrenaline, her senses sharpening. She reached for an arrow from the quiver strapped to her back, nocking it quickly and silently. Her hands moved with practiced precision, the tension in the bowstring familiar and reassuring.

She aimed carefully, her breath steadying as she focused on the base of the geek's skull. One shot, one kill — that was the rule. She released the arrow, and the sound of it slicing through the air was brief and sharp. The geek crumpled to the ground without a sound, its body folding in on itself like a marionette with its strings cut.

Wendy waited, her muscles taut, listening for any sign that the noise had attracted more. The silence stretched on, unbroken, and she allowed herself a small exhale of relief. She stepped over the body carefully, her eyes scanning the nearby classrooms. Most of the doors were ajar, revealing overturned desks and chairs, abandoned textbooks scattered like relics of a world that no longer existed.

She moved methodically, clearing each room as she went. The second classroom she entered was empty, save for a few toppled chairs and a forgotten lunchbox on the teacher's desk. The third was not. A geek was trapped inside, its leg caught in the straps of a fallen backpack. It flailed wildly as it saw her, its gurgling groans filling the small space.

Wendy didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, her movements quick and fluid, and drove the point of her arrow into its skull. The sound was wet and sickening, but she didn't flinch. She had learned long ago to push past the revulsion, to focus on the necessity of the act. Survival demanded it.

The hallway stretched ahead of her, dim and foreboding. She paused at the door to the next classroom, pressing her ear against the wood. The faint shuffling sounds from within told her it wasn't empty. She tightened her grip on her bow and pushed the door open cautiously, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.

Two geeks were inside, their movements slow and uncoordinated as they bumped into desks and each other. Wendy's breath hitched slightly.

Two was manageable, but it required precision. She nocked another arrow and took aim, her movements calculated. The first arrow struck true, and the geek nearest to her collapsed instantly. The second turned toward her, its mouth opening in a grotesque, soundless snarl. Wendy's hands moved quickly, her training kicking in. She pulled another arrow from her quiver and fired, the tip embedding itself in the creature's forehead.

The room fell silent again, the only sound her ragged breathing. Wendy wiped the sweat from her brow, her gaze flickering to the clock on the wall. Time felt strange here, stretched and compressed in equal measure. She didn't linger. There was still work to be done.

By the time she reached the far end of the hallway, her quiver was noticeably lighter, and her muscles ached from the tension of repeated shots. But the floor was clear. Wendy stood at the top of the stairwell leading to the third floor, her heart pounding. She glanced back down the hallway she had just cleared, her chest swelling with a mix of exhaustion and pride.

This was their space now, their territory.

AUTHORS NOTE

letting y'all know now im going to be focusing on thomas for the next few chs (like 2 LOL) because i want to write season one and not really focus on wendy

but the next wendy ch will be like a few days after this ch. so i don't have to write their progress every time they move through the school u know

been posting so many edits (togeez.wp on TikTok hehe) and im just so excited for wendy and thomas to be together like they're so fucking cute already

much love,