Chapter 22: Entering Lexington Charter!

“Then let’s go!” I urged them. Without waiting for a response, I sprinted toward the main building, my eyes scanning for the closest entrance.

The Lexington Charter Academy loomed before us like something out of a Gothic novel—all stone facades, arched windows, and ornate architectural details that spoke of old money and older traditions. Even in broad daylight, the building cast long shadows across the manicured courtyard, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were running toward a fortress rather than a school.

Behind us, the infected were gaining ground. I could hear their shuffling footsteps on the concrete, punctuated by the occasional moan or the scrape of dragging limbs.

The main entrance was a massive set of double doors, carved from what looked like solid oak and fitted with brass handles that had probably cost more than my family’s car. Gothic arches framed the doorway, and stone gargoyles perched above, their weathered faces seeming to leer down at us with ancient malevolence.

I grabbed the ornate brass handle and pulled hard, expecting the familiar give of an unlocked door. Instead, it held fast, not budging even a fraction of an inch.

“What?” I pulled again, harder this time, putting my full weight behind it. Nothing.

How was this possible? The virus had only started spreading two days ago. The academy grounds were clearly compromised; we’d seen infected wandering the campus. So why were the main doors locked?

These weren’t just any doors either. They were clearly like one of the primary student entrance, the ones hundreds of students passed through every morning. During regular school hours, they should have been wide open, propped with the usual doorstops to handle the flow of students between classes.

“They are coming!” Sydney’s voice snapped me out of my confused thoughts.

I turned to see the infected closing the distance between us. The group from outside the gate had been joined by others as well?

“Get back,” I said, gently pushing Rachel and Rebecca away from the door.

I backed up several steps, looked at the the door with new eyes. It was old, probably original to the building, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was weak. The wood was thick, dark with age and multiple coats of varnish. The brass fittings looked solid, and the frame was set deep into the stone archway.

But I felt… different. Stronger. Ever since that first day when everything went to hell, when I’d somehow managed to outrun those infected despite never being particularly athletic, I’d noticed changes in myself. My reflexes were faster, my endurance better. I could lift things that should have been too heavy, move in ways that should have been impossible.

I took a deep breath and broke into a run, lowering my shoulder and aiming for the point where the two doors met.

BAM!

The impact sent shockwaves through my entire body, but the door shuddered violently, wood groaning against metal hinges. Dust and paint chips rained down from the frame, but it held.

“Holy shit,” Sydney breathed, staring at the door in amazement. “How did you—”

“The door’s solid oak,” I said, rolling my shoulder and wincing at the pain. “But the frame is old. The wood’s probably dried out over the years.”

In truth, I was surprised I hadn’t dislocated my shoulder. Two days ago, hitting a door like that would have sent me to the hospital. Now it just hurt like hell, but I could still move my arm freely.

I backed up again, this time giving myself more distance. The infected were maybe twenty feet away now, close enough that I could see the details I’d been trying to ignore—the way their skin had taken on a grayish pallor, the dark veins visible beneath the surface, the dried blood caked around their mouths and fingernails.

“H—Hurry up!” Rebecca’s voice was tight with fear.

“I know Princess!”

I focused on the door, visualizing the impact point, the angle of approach. This time I wouldn’t just rely on my shoulder—I’d use my whole body weight, turning the collision into a controlled demolition.

I planted my feet firmly, took three quick steps forward, and launched myself at the door like a human battering ram.

BA-DAM!

The sound was deafening in the enclosed courtyard. This time I could hear the wood actually cracking—not just the surface, but deep structural splits running through the frame. The left door sagged slightly on its hinges, and I could see a gap opening between the doors where the latch had partially given way.

“One more time,” I muttered, though my shoulder was screaming in protest. The infected were close enough now that I could smell them—that sick, sweet odor of decay mixed with something else, something that made my stomach turn.

I backed up as far as I could, until I was almost pressed against the fountain in the center of the courtyard. The stone cherubs atop it seemed to watch with carved indifference as I prepared for what might be my final attempt.

This time, I didn’t just run—I sprinted. I planted my left foot hard and jumped, turning my entire body into a projectile aimed at the weakest point of the door.

BA-DOOM!

The door exploded inward with a sound like thunder. Wood splintered and brass fittings went flying as I crashed through the opening, rolling across the marble floor of the entrance hall in a tangle of limbs and debris.

“Get inside!” Sydney shouted.

I could hear their footsteps pounding across the marble as they rushed through the breach I’d created. Rachel and Rebecca were right behind Sydney, and I could hear them struggling with the remnants of the door, trying to push the splintered wood back into place.

“It’s no use,” Rachel panted, her voice shaking. “The door’s completely destroyed. We can’t block it off.”

I groaned and pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, taking stock of my injuries. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, and I could taste blood in my mouth where I’d bitten my tongue during the impact. But nothing seemed broken, and I could still move all my limbs.

The entrance hall stretched out before us, a monument to academic pretension with its soaring ceilings, marble floors, and oil paintings of long-dead benefactors. Normally, it would have been filled with students hurrying between classes, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Now it was silent except for our heavy breathing and the distant sound of infected stumbling through the broken doorway behind us.

“Here, upstairs!” Rebecca called, already halfway up the grand staircase that dominated the far end of the hall. The steps were wide marble slabs, worn smooth by generations of students, and they curved upward toward the second floor in an elegant spiral.

“Ryan, you okay?” Rachel appeared at my side, her face pale with concern. She extended her hand to help me up, and I could see her fingers trembling slightly. “We have to hurry.”

I accepted her help, grimacing as I got to my feet. The pain in my shoulder was manageable, but I could feel a dozen smaller aches and pains from the impact.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

As we started up the stairs, I could hear the infected pouring through the broken doorway behind us.

“How many floors does this place have?” I asked Rebecca as we climbed.

“Four,” she replied, not looking back. “But there’s also the bell tower, and the basement levels. The library’s on the third floor, and it has good sight lines of the campus. We might be able to see what’s happening from there.”

Sydney was already at the top of the first flight, peering around the corner cautiously. “Coast looks clear up here,” she reported. “But I can hear movement from somewhere deeper in the building.”

The second floor hallway stretched out before us, lined with classroom doors and dominated by tall windows that let in the afternoon light. Trophy cases lined the walls, filled with awards and photographs from decades of academic and athletic achievements.

Then we saw them.

A cluster of infected stood motionless in the corridor ahead, their backs turned to us. Their expensive school uniforms hung in tatters, designer blazers torn and stained with substances I didn’t want to identify. The silence stretched like a taut wire until one of them shifted, then another, their movements jerky and unnatural.

As if sensing our presence, they began to turn in unison.

“Let’s head to the third floor!” Sydney yelled as she spun around. “Move! Now!”

We scrambled to follow her, our careful stealth abandoned in favor of speed. The infected behind us had fully turned now, their collective moan rising like a twisted choir. Rachel grabbed Rebecca’s hand, pulling her younger sister along as we rushed toward the stairwell.

But as expected it wouldn’t be too easy

As Rachel rounded the corner to follow Sydney up the stairs, a figure emerged from the shadows between the staircases—that dead space where the restroom entrances created a perfect blind spot. The infected moved with startling speed.

Time seemed to slow as the creature launched itself at Rachel, its arms outstretched and fingers curved like claws. Rachel’s eyes widened in terror, her body frozen in that split second between recognition and reaction.

“S—Sister!!” Rebecca’s scream tore from her throat, raw and desperate.

But I was already moving.

My body acted on pure instinct, muscles coiled and released like a spring. I slammed into the infected teacher with the full force of my momentum, driving him sideways into the metal stair railing. The impact sent a jarring shock through my shoulder, but the satisfying crunch of his ribs against the steel rail told me I’d hit my mark.

“Run!” I shouted at Rachel and Rebecca, not daring to take my eyes off the infected creature as it staggered back to its feet with inhuman resilience.

The infected teacher straightened up, its head lolling at an unnatural angle. It lunged at me again, and I barely managed to get my hands up in time, catching its throat in a desperate grip.

Christ, the strength in this thing was incredible. My arms trembled as I fought to keep those snapping jaws away from my neck. The infected teacher’s hands clawed at my jacket, and I could feel the fabric tearing under his grip.

That’s when my foot found the patch of blood.

The crimson puddle had been spreading slowly across the polished floor, fed by some unseen source. In my focus on the immediate threat, I hadn’t noticed it until my sneaker hit the slick surface and shot out from under me.

“Huh?”

The world tilted sideways as I lost my balance. The ceiling tiles, with their water stains and flickering fluorescent bulbs, filled my vision as gravity claimed me. The infected teacher came down with me, his weight pressing against my chest as we tumbled toward the stairs leading to the first floor.

“R—RYAN!!” Rachel’s voice was pure anguish as she started to move toward me.

“Run!!” I managed to shout even as I felt myself falling backward, the edge of the first step catching me in the ribs.

Rebecca, despite being the younger sister, showed remarkable presence of mind. She grabbed Rachel’s arm with both hands, her fingers digging into her sister’s sleeve. “C—Come on, sister!” She urged, her voice steadier than it had any right to be. “We have to go!”

“B—But Ryan—” Rachel’s protest was cut short as Rebecca physically dragged her away from the stairwell.

The last thing I saw of them was Rachel’s tear-streaked face disappearing around the corner, her hand reaching desperately toward me even as her sister pulled her to safety.

Then I was tumbling down the concrete steps, each impact sending shockwaves through my body. The infected teacher rolled with me, his dead weight making it impossible to control my descent. Somehow, I managed to keep my palm pressed against his face, his teeth snapping inches from my throat as we crashed down step after step.

When we finally came to rest on the first floor landing, I was quick to plant my foot in the creature’s chest and kick him away. He tumbled down the next flight of stairs toward the ground floor, his body making sickening wet sounds as he bounced off the walls.

But my relief was short-lived.

I lifted my head to survey the first floor hallway and felt my heart sink. Three—no, four infected wandered between the classroom doors, their movements aimless but no less threatening. They hadn’t noticed me yet, but that wouldn’t last long.

Still, it was better than the ground floor. Through the broken main entrance, I could see more infected streaming into the building, drawn by the sounds of our earlier encounter.

A crash from above caught my attention. More infected were tumbling down the stairs from the second floor, their bodies hitting each step with bone-jarring impacts. Thank God they seemed to have lost whatever motor skills allowed them to navigate stairs properly—they were falling more than walking.

I needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to catch my breath and figure out my next move.

Pressing myself against the wall, I began moving down the first floor hallway. The corridor was lined with classroom doors, each one bearing a small placard with the teacher’s name and subject. Advanced Calculus. European History. Molecular Biology. The academic excellence of Lexington Academy was on full display, even in the midst of this nightmare.

I approached the first door carefully, pressing my ear to the wood. Sounds of movement came from within—the distinctive shuffle of infected feet against linoleum. Through the small window, I could see the silhouettes of students still seated at their desks, their heads turned toward the door with that same hollow-eyed stare.

The second classroom was the same. And the third. Each room held its own collection of the dead, former students who would never graduate, never fulfill their parents’ lofty expectations, never change the world with their privilege and education.

Money couldn’t buy life, after all.

But the fourth door was different. The window was dark, and when I pressed my ear to it, I heard only silence. My hand trembled slightly as I turned the handle—unlocked, thank God—and slipped inside, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible.

“Phew…” The sigh of relief escaped my lips as I leaned against the door, allowing myself a moment to process what had just happened.

Then I turned around and froze.

Standing in the far corner of the classroom, caught in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall windows, was a girl. Not infected—very much alive, if the way she stood perfectly still was any indication. Her blonde hair caught the light like silver and her wide blue eyes stared at me with the same shock I felt.

But it was her state of undress that made the situation immediately awkward.

Her school blouse was half-unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of white lace underneath, and her hands were frozen mid-motion on the fabric. Her navy blue skirt was wrinkled, and her knee-high socks had fallen down to her ankles. She looked like she’d been in the process of changing clothes when I’d burst in.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep