Inside the security room, it started with static.
Grey lines glitched across the monitors, a low buzz humming through the speakers. Officer Ray tapped one of the screens. It flickered, then cleared.
Hallway 3C.
A girl — uniform torn, blood down her leg — sprinted past. Something was chasing her.
Ray squinted. "What the hell…?"
He switched cameras.
Hallway 1A: Two boys banging on a classroom door, screaming for help.
Cafeteria Cam: Overturned tables. Blood smeared across the floor.
He reached for his walkie-talkie. "This is security, do you copy? I need assistance—NOW."
Static.
He tried again.
"Principal Ward, are you seeing this? Something is—"
Then the cafeteria feed cut to black.
Ray stood up fast. Sweat formed on his brow. He scanned the monitors. One by one, students were running. Some dragging themselves. Some biting others.
This wasn't a fight.
This was a breakdown.
Across the school, the teachers' lounge buzzed with confused murmurs.
Ms. Hill looked up from her coffee. "Why hasn't the bell rung?"
"I thought it was a drill," said Mr. Reid, glancing at the wall clock. "It's ten minutes past."
Mr. Daniels tapped the window. "You guys hear that?"
A muffled bang. Then another.
Mrs. Lowry frowned. "That's not part of a drill…"
They moved toward the door. Hesitation in their steps.
No phones. School policy.
No intercom announcement.
No students.
Just… silence. Followed by chaos.
Back in the security room, Ray grabbed his baton and keycard. He opened the emergency drawer and snatched the PA override chip.
His plan was simple:
Get to the broadcasting room. Warn everyone. Lock the school down.
He opened the security door cautiously and stepped into the hallway.
Footsteps echoed.
Then a growl.
He turned — a boy charged him, blood dripping from his mouth, arms clawing at the air.
"Back OFF!" Ray barked, swinging his baton hard.
The student crashed into the wall, dazed. But another one came.
Then two more.
Ray sprinted.
One grabbed his jacket — ripped it — but Ray pulled away, bleeding from the arm, adrenaline pulsing like fire.
He slammed into the broadcasting room and locked the door behind him.
Hands trembled as he jammed the override chip into place and leaned into the mic.
"Attention students and staff. This is NOT a drill. Lock your classroom doors. Stay inside. Do not engage. Repeat—do NOT engage. Secure your locations immediately."
In the teachers' lounge, they heard the announcement.
Gasps. Shouts. Confusion.
"What is going on!?"
"We need to leave—"
"No," Mr. Daniels said. "We lock this door and stay low."
Then a voice from the back: "I have a phone."
They turned.
A student teacher, barely older than the seniors, held up a phone. "I snuck it in today. I—I just wanted to check scores. I—I didn't mean to…"
Everyone crowded around.
She opened her browser.
Headlines flashed across the screen:
BREAKING: Strange Attacks Across Midtown
Police Urge Citizens to Stay Indoors
Supermarket Lockdown — Civilian Bitten During Altercation
The room went still.
This wasn't just here.
It was everywhere.