Beyond the Horizon(An apocalypse novel)

Chapter 7: Knocking

Miles could only sigh at the sight of the message.

’They aren’t too far apart.’

That was the only silver lining here. The distance between their house and Anny’s school was walkable. If Henry moved quickly...

’It won’t be that bad, right?’

He could only wait and hope.

"Hey, are you alright?"

A girl’s voice sounded nearby. It was familiar.

He turned to find Chloe. The girl looked hesitant, unsure in a way he’d never seen her.

"I’m doing better, thanks."

"Good."

The girl nodded, glancing at the wounded surrounding him. "...do you know where Jayce is?"

Miles shook his head. "I lost sight of him in the rush here. He could be in the cafeteria."

"Could you call him to check?"

"Yeah, I will."

It was what he’d already intended to do, but he didn’t stop there.

"Is there a reason you’re looking for him?"

"I’m helping Ryan take headcount. He’s... not in the best condition."

’Right, she’s the assistant rep.’

Miles followed her gaze to find Ryan and Mia huddled in their own spots; they were the closest to the corpse. They’d both been very close to the girl, a trio to hisknowledge. It was a shame he never learned her name.

He looked back to Chloe. "How many of us made it?"

"Fourteen so far; I know the locations of about five other missing people. Six if you add Jayce."

Miles fell silent.

There were thirty in their class. On the most optimistic points of outlook, at least ten were missing, and one was confirmed dead.

It all still felt surreal in his mind—everything that had happened so far.

It seemed he was the last student on her list, as she settled against a wall nearby, waiting for Mr. Morgan to be done with his meeting. They’d already treated Miles’s wounds, so he wasn’t sure if she was in breach of the arrangement.

The girl pivoted the conversation, her gaze somewhat distant.

"Have you called your parents?"

’She’s still going?’

Miles scratched his neck as he replied. "Yeah. He should be fine... hopefully."

"That’s good."

A silence settled between them before he realized he was meant to ask a question as well.

"What about you? Have you contacted them?"

The girl shook her head. "No. I can’t reach them; they’re out of the country."

"Oh."

’Oh.’

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that. The implications were clear enough.

"I’m sorry."

She waved him off. "Don’t be. I asked you first."

"Then—"

He was interrupted by a loud bang. The doors rattled violently.

A silence engulfed the room; all eyes turned to face the doors. Then...

Another bang. The doors shook even more.

It was then Mr. Morgan rushed to them, trying to lock it shut. A third impact occurred as he did so. The sound of metal against flesh resounded as the frame slammed into his face.

The man collapsed onto his backside, hand over his nose as blood dripped through his fingers. He made no sound, but his grimace was visible from even where Miles stood.

"Don’t open the doors."

His voice came out wet, pained, and slightly nasal. The nurse immediately rushed to his side.

There was another bang. Then another, and another.

The pauses between them stopped entirely. The doors audibly strained under the onslaught.

"Who the hell is out there!? Are you mad or something?"

The gym coach finally had enough. He began walking up to the door.

The barrage paused. For a moment, it seemed as though his plan worked.

*Bang*

The door shook, more violently this time. The pounding resumed again, more frantic, rabid, and desperate this time. A bolt shot off its hinges.

The man flinched. The English teacher, much closer to the door, reached out for him.

"Hey, I don’t think you should—"

The man brushed her off. "Then what? We wait for that bastard to break the door?"

He picked up the keys as he passed by the fallen Mr. Morgan.

She couldn’t refute that, and at the rate the door was degrading, neither could Miles.

’But.... does he know?’

Miles was certain. Whatever lay behind that door wasn’t human; they would’ve said something by now if they were.

’Is it the same one.... or something else?’

The thing that had gotten Mrs. Martinez—it might’ve come for them too.

The man walked up to the shaky door, keeping his distance after seeing what happened to Mr. Morgan.

"Who are you!? You’d better answer me before I open that door."

There was no reasoning with it; the man didn’t seem to know that. The banging continued.

Miles was watching him make the same mistake Mrs. Martinez had made. The thought to stop him crossed his mind, but it sounded so far away. Like a person screaming at him from a distance.

Beyond the strange distance of the thought, he still considered warning him. Suppose the man listened to him and didn’t open that door. What then? Would he wait for the doors to break?

It was in this state of indecision that the man reached for the shaking doors. He hesitated before grabbing them, bracing against them with his mass.

The banging rattled him as well, yet he held, twisting the key then pulling.

There was a growl. A long, harrowing sound as the doors swung open.

Miles had already shifted his gaze away. Yet the sounds he expected—the ripping of flesh from bone, a terrorized scream—none of it played out.

In its place was a boom. One that echoed in the enclosed room, leaving his ears ringing in its wake.

A gunshot.

Black, foul blood burst from a pale figure by the door, spurting in arcs as the figure collapsed on the floor behind.

The gym teacher stood beside it, blood staining his clothes; there was a mix of shock and disgust on his face. Mostly shock. It must’ve been foul.

Behind him, holding an AR-15, was a student. Shaggy hair, rumpled shirt, and a bruised face. His hands trembled as he slowly brought down the muzzle.

One question came first in Miles’s mind at the sight.

’Why does he have a gun?’