The Manual

Chapter 3

The basement of Jefferson High was a labyrinth of sweating pipes and humming electrical transformers, bathed in the jaundice-yellow glow of flickering sodium lamps. It felt like the bowels of a dying beast.

"We can’t just leave," Sarah whimpered, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. She was leaning heavily on Maya, her legs still trembling from her fainting spell in the elevator. "We have to wait for the police. My dad… he’s a sergeant. He’ll come for us."

Cassie didn’t stop walking. Her combat boots clicked rhythmically against the floor, a steady heartbeat in the dark. "Your dad is currently trying to keep a city of sixty thousand people from eating each other, Sarah. He’s not coming to the media center."

"You don't know that!" Heather snapped, clutching her Prada bag so hard her knuckles were white. "You’re just some freak who reads a crazy book. You don't know anything!"

Cassie stopped. She turned slowly, the red emergency light overhead casting deep, skeletal shadows across her face. She looked at Heather, then at the heavy steel door at the end of the hall. "Rule Number Eight: Denial is the fastest way to get bitten. If you want to wait for a rescue that isn't coming, stay here. The elevator is right behind you."

Heather opened her mouth to retort, but the sound of a distant, metallic shriek from the floor above silenced her. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering—hundreds of windows breaking at once. The school was being breached from the outside.

"Lily," Cassie said, turning to the quiet girl. "You’ve been staring at the wall for three minutes. Talk to me."

Lily’s face was ashen. Her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her oversized hoodie. "Maya," she whispered, looking at the medic-in-training. "We can’t go to the parking lot yet."

Maya frowned, adjusting her glasses. "Lily, Cassie’s right. The longer we stay in the building, the lower our percentages get. We need to reach the truck."

"No," Lily’s voice cracked, growing louder. "Maddie. She’s in the freshman wing. She’s only fourteen, Maya. She’s in the auxiliary gym for volleyball practice. We’re right under it."

A heavy silence fell over the group. The freshman wing was on the opposite side of the school from the maintenance tunnels. To get there, they would have to head back toward the heart of the chaos.

"No way," Kayla said, her voice sharp and selfish. "We are not going back up there for a freshman. We barely made it out of the library."

"She’s my sister," Lily said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, flat tone. She looked at Cassie. "I’m not leaving without her."

Cassie felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. Her father’s manual was very clear about detours. Rule #14: Sentimentality is a luxury for the dead. Stick to the exit strategy. But she looked at Lily—the girl who had shared her lunch with Cassie when she was the 'weird survivalist girl,' the girl who didn't look at her like she was a ticking time bomb.

"The auxiliary gym has a direct service entrance to the boiler room," Cassie said, her mind racing through the blueprints she’d memorized over the summer. "If we take the steam pipe crawlspace, we can come up right behind the bleachers. We wouldn't have to go into the main halls."

"Are you serious?" Kayla hissed. "We’re choosing one kid over ten of us?"

"I'm choosing not to leave someone behind," Cassie said, though her heart was screaming at her to run. "Jade, you stay in the lead. Maya, keep Sarah moving. Heather, Kayla, Dani—stay in the middle. If you see something, don't scream. Just point."

"I'm not going," Heather said, crossing her arms. "It’s suicide. I’m going to the front office. There’s a panic room there. My dad donated it."

"Heather, don't," Dani pleaded, her optimistic mask finally cracking. "We have to stay together. Cassie knows the way."

"Cassie is a lunatic!" Heather shouted. The sound bounced off the concrete, too loud, too bright. "I'm going to the office. The security guard, Mr. Miller, he knows me. He’ll let me in."

Before anyone could stop her, Heather turned and ran back toward the stairwell next to the elevator.

"Heather, wait!" Dani cried, making a move to follow.

"Let her go," Cassie commanded, grabbing Dani’s arm. "Rule #5: You can't save someone who’s already decided to die."

They watched Heather disappear into the stairwell. A few moments later, they heard the heavy door click shut. The group stood in the dim light, the weight of the loss—even if it was the school’s most popular girl—settling over them like ash.

"Moving," Cassie whispered. "Now."

They crawled. The steam pipe tunnels were barely four feet high, choked with cobwebs and the smell of rust. Cassie led the way, her flashlight beam a narrow finger of light cutting through the dark. Behind her, she could hear Lily’s ragged breathing.

"She’ll be okay, Lil," Maya whispered from further back.

"She has to be," Lily replied.

They reached the ladder to the auxiliary gym. Cassie climbed first, her hand hovering over the hilt of the heavy hunting knife she’d kept hidden in her boot. She pushed the circular grate upward, inch by inch.

The gym was silent. Too silent.

The smell hit her first—copper and sweat. She pulled herself up into the equipment closet behind the bleachers. The others followed, spilling out into the cramped space filled with volleyball nets and deflated dodgeballs.

Cassie peered through the gap in the bleachers. The gym was a cavern of shadows. The high windows were frosted, but she could see the silhouettes of hands pressing against the glass from the outside.

"Maddie?" Lily hissed, stepping out into the open gym floor.

"Lily, get back!" Cassie whispered, but it was too late.

A small figure huddled under the referee’s stand stood up. "Lily?"

Maddie ran across the polished wood floor, her volleyball kneepads sliding as she threw herself into her sister’s arms. They collided in a sob of relief.

"We have to go," Jade said, her eyes scanning the exits. "The main gym doors are shaking."

"Wait," Dani said, looking toward the hallway. "Do you hear that?"

From the hallway leading to the front office, a high-pitched scream erupted. It was Heather.

"Help! Mr. Miller, please! Open the door!"

Through the glass panes of the gym’s double doors, they saw it. Heather was pounding on the reinforced glass of the security kiosk. Inside, Mr. Miller was standing. But he wasn't opening the door. His face was pressed against the glass, his jaw working rhythmically, his eyes clouded with a milky white film.

"Heather, run!" Dani screamed, breaking Cassie’s rule of silence.

Heather turned, but she was trapped in the alcove. She reached into her bag, pulling out a wad of cash—hundreds of dollars. "I’ll pay you! Just let me in! My dad will give you anything!"

It was a pathetic, human gesture in a world that no longer valued currency.

Behind Heather, the locker room doors swung open. A group of 'sick' students, their movements synchronized and predatory, spilled out. Heather didn't even have time to scream a second time. They swarmed her in a wave of blue and gold school colors. Her Prada bag fell to the floor, spilling its contents across the linoleum—lipstick, a mirror, and the useless money, fluttering in the draft like dead leaves.

"Oh god," Sarah gasped, retching into her hands.

"Don't look," Cassie said, grabbing Maddie’s shoulder and spinning the younger girl around. "Look at me. Only at me."

"We’re trapped," Kayla whimpered, pointing at the gym doors. The 'things' that had taken Heather had heard Dani’s scream. They were turning. Their heads snapped toward the gym, a dozen pairs of dead eyes locking onto the survivors.

Cassie reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, heavy object—a tactical flashbang her father had "acquired" from a surplus sale.

"Cover your eyes," Cassie ordered.

"What is that?" Kayla asked, her voice trembling.

"The reason we’re getting to the truck," Cassie said. She looked at the Survivor Six, and the three remaining Red Shirts. "When this goes off, run for the equipment exit. Don't stop for anything. Not even each other."

She pulled the pin.

"Rule Number Ten," she whispered as the gym doors burst open. "When in doubt, create a distraction."

She hurled the canister. A split second later, the world turned into white fire and a roar that felt like a physical punch to the chest.

"Go!" Cassie screamed into the ringing silence.

They ran. They ran past the bleachers, past the abandoned volleyballs, and out into the cooling afternoon air. But as they hit the asphalt of the back lot, Cassie looked back.

Dani was lagging behind. She was looking toward the treeline, her face lighting up with a tragic, haunting hope.

"Look!" Dani shouted, pointing toward the school gates. "The Army! They’re here! We’re saved!"

In the distance, three tan humvees were rolling onto the campus. Men in full tactical gear were hopping out, their rifles raised.

"Dani, no!" Cassie yelled, reaching for her. "Stay back!"

But Dani, the eternal optimist, was already sprinting toward the uniforms. "Over here! Help us! We have injured!"

The soldier in the lead didn't wave back. He didn't offer a hand. He knelt, braced his rifle against his shoulder, and fired a single, methodical burst.

Dani’s body jerked, her bright yellow sweater blooming with sudden, violent red. She collapsed onto the pavement, her eyes wide with a confusion that would never be resolved.

"They're killing everyone," Lily whispered, her voice trembling. "Cassie, they're killing everyone."

"Get in the truck," Cassie growled, her voice thick with a rage she didn't have time to process. She shoved the girls toward the reinforced black pickup hidden behind the shed. "Get in the back and stay down!"

Two down. Eight to go. And the "rescue" had only just arrived.