The gymnasium fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the crackle of a few remaining embers and the ragged breathing of the survivors.
Wyn let the axe slip from his numb fingers. It clattered onto the hardwood as he collapsed backward, his chest heaving. He was drenched in sweat and the foul-smelling fluids of the mutated snake.
Primo, his own body aching from the impact earlier, forced himself to his feet. He limped over to his friend and looked down at him with a tired, lopsided grin. "Nice to see you again," he teased, his voice raspy. "You always did like making a grand entrance."
Wyn looked up, his eyes bloodshot but sparkling with familiar life. "Fuck you, Primo! We almost died!"
The absurdity of the situation hit them both at once. Surrounded by blood, fire, and a dead monster, the two friends shared a hearty, breathless laugh—the kind of laugh that only comes when you've stared into the abyss and it blinked first.
The laughter died away quickly as they looked toward the center of the court.
Pyro had slowly approached the remains of the python. In his hand, he gripped the kitchen knife from Primo's makeshift spear, which had been thrown aside during the fight. His face was a mask of cold, hollow grief.
With trembling hands, he used the knife to slice through the scorched, softened belly of the snake. It was a gruesome, desperate struggle, but he eventually pulled out the limp, pale body of his girlfriend. He didn't care about the blood, the digestive fluids, or the stench. He simply collapsed to his knees, pulling her into a tight embrace and sobbing into her shoulder.
Primo and Wyn exchanged a somber look. They didn't try to comfort him with empty words; they simply sat back on their haunches, giving him the space to mourn in the wreckage of the gym.
A few minutes later, the other four students—the two boys and two girls who had fled earlier—timidly re-entered the gym. They weren't empty-handed. They were carrying heavy-duty rakes and shovels, likely scavenged from the same maintenance shed Primo had visited. They stood at a distance, looking between the dead snake and the grieving Pyro with a mix of horror and relief.
Primo stood up, his focus shifting back to the necessity of their new world. He walked toward the python's carcass, kneeling near where Pyro was huddled. He gently picked up his kitchen knife and began to cut deeper into the area near the snake's heart.
After a few seconds of rummaging through the dense, hot muscle of the beast, his fingers closed around something hard. He pulled it out.
It was a crystal, but it was unlike the ones before. It was nearly the size of a golf ball, a deep, pulsating crimson that was much darker than the dog's core. Its surface was perfectly smooth, almost like a polished ruby, and it hummed with a faint, internal heat that Primo could feel vibrating against his palm.
It was clearly far more powerful than the others he had found, but he didn't swallow it. He looked around at the weary group and the darkening sky through the high windows. Night was coming, and they had too much to do before they could focus on status updates.
He tucked the core securely into a deep pocket of his cargo pants. "We need to move," he said softly. "This place isn't safe for the night."
They gave Pyro a little more time. Eventually, with Wyn's gentle help, they convinced him to let her rest. They couldn't leave her there on the hardwood floor. Using the shovels they had found, they dug a shallow grave in the soft earth just outside the gymnasium. It was the best they could do.
Pyro knelt at the mound, his hands shaking as he stuck a makeshift wooden cross into the dirt. He didn't say a word, but the silent promise was clear in his eyes: he would come back to give her a proper burial when the world stopped screaming. The two girls stayed by his side, whispering words of encouragement, reminding him that she would have wanted him to survive.
Once they were ready, the group moved toward the school canteen.
Primo led the way, his Great Ear and Great Nose on high alert. He noticed that the campus felt strangely empty. Aside from a few mutated cockroaches scurrying in the gutters and the occasional lizard on the walls, there were no large predators.
The python, Primo realized. It must have claimed this whole area as its territory. It ate anything that wandered in. It was a grim thought, but it meant they had a temporary window of safety.
They reached the canteen and used the axe to break the heavy lock on the door. Inside, the pantry was mostly bare. Since it was the holiday break, the staff had cleared out the perishable goods. However, they managed to find several boxes of juice, bottles of mineral water, a few dozen packages of instant noodles, and several unopened packs of biscuits.
They gathered every scrap of food and moved to their final destination: the faculty office.
The door was locked, but the axe made quick work of it. Once inside, they cleared the rooms, checked the closets, and then slammed the door shut, barricading it with a heavy oak desk. This room was a fortress compared to the gym—it had a small private toilet and thick, carpeted floors.
Using the mineral water they had scavenged, they took turns washing the blood and grime from their bodies. The cold water was a luxury that helped settle their frayed nerves. They drew the heavy curtains and double-checked the window latches.
The smell of cooking was a risk they weren't willing to take. Instead of the noodles, they sat in the dim light of Pyro's lighter, and shared the packs of biscuits. The dry crunch was the only sound in the room as they ate their somber dinner in the dark.