Chapter Nine
839 Words
The entire group bundled through the narrow doorway to safety, crumbing into a pile of panting exhaustion. Their saviours slammed the door shut, and slid a thick plank of wood down into two slots either side, putting a barrier between themselves and the dead.
"Get him on one of those tables now, before he loses too much blood!" One of the women urged.
Dawson and JJ lifted Max by the arms and legs with little argument, hoisting him onto one of the cheap school dining room benches.
"I'm fine! They're just scratches," Max grumbled, shaking off JJ's grip of his wrist.
The door continued to thump with the oncoming pouring of dead bodies, desperately trying to punch, bite and claw their way into the room.
The young girl who had beckoned them in a few moments earlier stared at Max's wounds intensely. Her nostrils flared, before a nearby man in a suit pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Don't worry Frankie, he'll be okay," the man whispered.
"Is that true Nurse Granger?" Frankie asked.
"Of course, darling."
The nurse frantically emptied a handful of items onto the table next to Max, before splashing his cuts with some kind of antiseptic.
"f*****g hell," Max winced as the disinfectant stung his open wounds.
"Language," Nurse Granger tutted.
Her tongue poked out her mouth in concentration as she expertly and swiftly wrapped each bite in soft bandages, pulling them tight and securing them with tape.
"Good as new," she exclaimed as she finished.
"Thanks," Max mumbled, still unsure that such a fuss should have been made. He'd rather have just slapped a few bandages on himself. "What the hell are you guys doing here anyway?"
"Same thing as you I guess...food?" the man holding Frankie suggested. "Allow me to introduce us, I'm Graham Beckman, principal of the school. This is Nurse Granger, Frankie, Milly, and George."
Principal Beckman pointed to the nurse and three children in turn.
"Are you the only survivors?" Max asked.
"I'm afraid so. One of the teachers turned in the middle of a school day and it just spread like wildfire, there was nothing we could do," Beckman whimpered.
"We're sorry," JJ said. "Is there no way out?"
"We tried to make it to the front entrance, but by the time we did, someone had sealed it off. All the other doors are locked; God knows where the keys are now."
Max scanned the room, four benches lined up in a row, with a wall to one side and floor to ceiling windows on the other. A metal door leading to the playground stood at the far end of the room, next to the serving station and stacks of trays. Behind that was a doorway into another room, with Max presumed was the kitchen.
"How much food have you got left back there?" he queried.
"Oh plenty, but it's all very bland I'm afraid," Beckman replied.
"Bland? I don't think you can demand perfectly seasoned cuisine in the apocalypse mate," Karl sniggered.
"Mind if I take a look?" Max asked, but in truth, he was walking towards the kitchen well before he received an answer.
"Please do," Beckman said through gritted teeth.
The kitchen was small, but well stocked. The shelves in front of Max were stacked with cans of soup and vegetables, healthy snack bars, porridge oats, rice, and masses more. This was more food than Max had seen in months.
He yanked open the fridge and recoiled as the foul stench of rotten waste shot up his nose like a jet. Blackened fruit and veg littered the mouldy shelves, and off milk filled the door tray. Max slammed the door shut to spare himself from choking to death on the pungent fumes.
He let out a long appreciative whistle as he walked past two large drums of water on his way back to the dining hall, giving one a hearty kick as he did so. The soft rumble of plastic and water growled round the room.
"We just want to find these kids a safe place to stay, you know?" Principal Beckman pleaded to the group.
"Well we're going to help in any way we can," Dawson assured.
"Thank you. Thank you so much," Beckman whispered, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Why don't you guys get some rest while we get some food on the go? We'll wake you up when it's done," Nurse Granger smiled.
"Oh well, I don't really think we're that tired, but thank you," Dawson replied.
"Oh, we insist, you guys look like you could do with an extra forty winks."
Max wandered past Principal Beckman, bending down to check out the sturdiness of the wooden blockade securing the door. The clickers' banging had now died down.
Max jiggled one of the wooden blocks, but he wasn't really interested in its strength, as he slid his hand down to the knife in his waistband.
He gripped the handle tightly, tearing it from its holster as he spun around and yanked Beckman towards him by the shirt. Max threw his knife arm round the side of the Principal's body in an arch, grinding it to a halt just in front of his neck.
"Max! What are you doing?" Dawson cried.
- Writer
