He pushed forward with both hands and rammed it into the lockers the Metal behind made boomed muffled sound.
The infected teeth grounds on the wood, making splinters and chips on it. He yanked the weapon free and swung again this time at the base of the skull the way he'd seen in survival clips.
The body collapsed like a cut rope.
Five more were still moving.
His arms already burned and felt sore, His breathing was ragged. Real fights didn't pace themselves they piled on the exhaustion.
One of the taller students charged straight instead of grabbing. Aren stepped off line at the last instant and hooked a foot behind its ankle, using its momentum to throw it forward. It crashed face-first, He stomped down hard on the back of the head.
Once..... Twice.....more until it stopped moving.
A hand brushed his neck from behind fingertips dragging skin but not breaking it. He felt it. he almost got grabbed.
His rage snapped through fear.
He spun and slammed his forehead into the attacker's nose. Pain burst across his vision but the infected staggered. He finished it with a wild horizontal swing that crushed the side of the skull against the wall.
Three left standing.
Two were crawling towards him.
He backed toward the stair rail so they couldn't surround him he Positioned and Angled himself so he could Funnel them.
"You want me," he panted. "Come get me"
And they did.
The next one caught the chair leg mid-swing. Grip like iron., dead fingers don't worry about strain. It pulled him forward and its teeth opened wide.
Aren let go of the weapon instead of fighting for it.
The sudden release threw it off balance. He drove his thumb deep into its eye socket on instinct alone and shoved with everything he had. It fell backward, clawing at its own face, trying to grab him, it bought him another second. He grabbed a fallen fire extinguisher from the wall bracket and brought it down like a hammer.
That one stayed down.
One remained, already moving towards him after regaining it's balance.
And the small one.....
The six-year-old stood near the lockers, swaying slightly, looking at the movement with dull hunger. As it's slow steps moved forward.
The last adult rushed him from the left. Aren sidestepped and swung the extinguisher sideways into its jaw. Bone gave. He finished it on the floor with shaking hands and three brutal strikes he would remember later when he tried to sleep.
Then it was quiet.
Except for the child who was moving.
It took small dragging steps toward him, head tilted, mouth stained dark. A school badge still clipped to the collar. Cartoon character backpack straps hanging loose behind.
Aren's grip loosened.
"Don't," he whispered. "Please don't."
It kept coming.
His chest hurt worse than any blow so far. Every instinct screamed to end the threat.
Another part older, softer refused.
It reached for him, stretching out it's short hands trying to grab at him.
"I'm sorry," he said and he meant it.
He stepped in close so it wouldn't suffer the long way and brought the extinguisher down once.
He didn't look at the face after. He couldn't let himself.
All infected here were killed by him.
He didn't feel jubilant as he thought he should be.
His hands shook. His sleeve was torn. His neck stung where fingers had nearly broken skin. He still didn't know if scratches could infect him. It didn't matter now.
Aren didn't realize he was shaking until the extinguisher slipped slightly in his grip.
The corridor smelled like iron and dust and something rotten underneath. His ears rang from the impacts. His breathing sounded too loud inside his own head.
Eight bodies lay scattered across tile and lockers, twisted in ways that used to belong to people with names and attendance records.
"I didn't have a choice," he told himself quietly. "I didn't."
The words didn't comfort him,
Then he heard it.
Far down the building beyond the next corridor bend a chain of sounds answered the noise he had made. Feet dragging. Something falling. A hollow door slam. Then more movement layered over it.
Not one, they were many.
His hearing sharpened beyond normal since the system bonded separated the echoes automatically.
Thet were too many. No wonder I didn't see much ppl here.
"They heard that," he whispered.
Of course they did. He'd turned the hallway into a battlefield. Metal strikes, locker crashes, skull impacts it might as well have been a dinner bell.
He dropped the extinguisher quietly and grabbed the broken chair leg again. Lighter. Faster it was suitable Enough.
No more time to breathe through guilt,
He bolted for the stairwell.
His shoes slapped the steps before he could slow them. He adjusted, forced quieter movement, taking the stairs fast but controlled. The rail was sticky under his palm blood or rust, he didn't check.
Below, the building was waking up.
Doors bumped open. Bodies collided with walls. That low throat-clicking chorus began to rise — directionless but converging toward where sound had been.
"Too loud," he muttered. "Was I way too loud."
Second floor landing.....
SS block corridor ahead longer, wider, more classrooms, more blind corners. Posters still hung on the walls: exam schedules, debate club notices, a faded welcome banner for inter-house sports day.
Normal life frozen mid-sentence.
"SS2," he breathed. "Think."
Left wing science side. He remembered walking her there once during a PTA day. Blue door frames. Lab warning signs.
He turned left.
Halfway down, he saw more signs of panic a door kicked inward, fingernail scrape marks along paint, a backpack torn open with books scattered like someone searched for something more valuable than knowledge.
A sound came from inside one classroom.