Dawn Rising

Stairwell

The school was a corpse.

Four days in, and the first floor was blood-soaked and stinking, the air thick with rot and old screams.

But the hallway outside their hiding spot was silent now.

Too silent.

Other than the muffled sounds of shuffling feet.

Jett leaned against the boarded-up supply closet door, absently flipping open the tiny pocket knife she’d found two days ago. It was dull, chipped, and barely threatening—but it felt better than nothing. Her track uniform was torn and sweat-stained, and her hair was starting to droop with grime, but her eyes still burned with that same wild fire.

Zayden crouched nearby, the only weapon he had was a broom resting against his shoulder. The end was bound tightly in duct tape giving him a better grip. It wasn’t much. But he’d killed with it before.

Riley, on the other hand, paced, fiddling with her glasses. Her auburn braids bobbed with every step. She looked like she should’ve been worrying about a quiz, not whether the undead were sniffing them out. She paused suddenly, her expression shifting.

“You guys… I don’t know if something’s wrong or right but…” She leaned toward the door. “I don’t hear them.”

Zayden stood, joining her. His brown eyes narrowed.

The hallway beyond was painted in dried blood and littered with twisted limbs. But the groans, the dragging feet, the choking snarls—they were gone.

Jett straightened. “We can’t waste this. My locker’s on the fourth floor. If I can get my scooter keys, we’ve got a ride out of this hellhole.”

Zayden nodded. So did Riley, though her hands were trembling.

They opened the door and slipped into the hallway like shadows. Every step was deliberate, every breath held.

They moved in a tight pack. Riley in the middle, Jett behind, Zayden ahead.

The stairwell was just across the hall. Freedom. A plan.

Then—

Crunch.

Riley’s foot snagged something.

She looked down.

A severed arm, fingers still wrapped around a smartphone.

The screen lit up.

An app opened.

A cheerful tune exploded from the tiny speakers.

“~ Let’s get this party started—! ~”

“s**t—” Jett hissed.

It was instant.

The silence shattered like glass.

From somewhere below, a moan.

Then another.

Then dozens.

They were coming.

Jett didn’t hesitate. She shoved Riley ahead, hard. “Run.”

Riley bolted up the stairs.

Zayden grabbed Jett’s hand for half a second, then followed.

Jett turned once, saw them crawling into the hallway behind them—bloody mouths, torn clothes, the stench of death filling the hallway.

She spun and sprinted.

The dead followed, howling.