Hi Skool Massakre

Hi Skool Massakre Goth boy dressed all in black. With a moody stare. Not giving a frig. As long as his subgun is loaded. Safety off. Both his and his gun's. Hear his New Rock boots stomp down the school hallway. See students cower behind barricaded doors. Blood oozes down the walls. Death has visited here. Goth boy is fully aware of this. Is part of this event. Has history here. A movement behind him. Whisper in his ear. He turns and fires. Hits his target. Cordite fumes and silence. Screams around the corner. A glance all about, he advances. Popping his head round the wall, he fires again. Another target down. Reloading, he is careful. No time for complacency. Movement! More of his enemy. He empties his clip, full fricking auto! Subgun heaven. Death reaches out. Seven more enemies kaput. Reloading, the goth boy shouts. "Everybody out! Students, run for your lives. I've killed the first wave of zombies. NOW! Run. Escape while you can." And they do. His fellow students pour out of a dozen classrooms. All but three, the first victims, made it. Grinning defiantly, the goth boy checks his gun, remaining ammo and psyches himself up. He knows wave two will be his end. No way to beat a thousand zombies. They'll soon be here. Crossing time and space by wormhole. Goth boy lights a bent cigarette and inhales. He waits for what is to come. His hand shakes but he steadies it. Knowing he saved his mates. Not hurting them. That only he alone can fight the zombies. For once, long ago, goth boy was one. A folk memory said he ate human flesh.