The Choreographed Chaos

“Damn it! Of all schools, why hers?!” Joseph Erickson cursed, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The car roared down the highway, his foot pressing hard on the accelerator, daring the engine to give out.

“If anything happens to her... I swear to God, those bastards are going to pay. Every last one of them!” he yelled, slamming the dashboard for emphasis.

Joseph wasn’t just any soldier—he’d recently been promoted to sergeant, and he took pride in his discipline. But hearing that Mira, his younger sister, was trapped in a terrorist attack, all that discipline flew out the window. And zombies? The thought made him scoff angrily. Zombies sounded like a bad joke, but the situation wasn’t funny.

“What the hell is the government even doing, letting things get this bad?” he muttered, punching the steering wheel.

His phone buzzed on the passenger seat. He glanced at the screen before snatching it up and putting it on speaker.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m not turning back, so save your breath!” he snapped, cutting off any chance for a greeting.

“Calm down, Joseph,” Major Erickson’s commanding voice came through the line. “If you hadn't gone, I would have. Just get Mira out safely. I’ll handle the rest.”

Joseph’s jaw tightened. “Am I going to be court-martialed for deserting my post?”

“You leave that to me,” the Major replied, his tone firm and unyielding. “Focus on your sister. That’s an order.”

Joseph swallowed hard, his grip loosening slightly. “Yes, sir.” He ended the call abruptly, his eyes fixed back on the road.

---

Back at the Erickson residence, Major Erickson stared at his phone, his mind racing. A second call came through, interrupting his thoughts.

“Erickson speaking,” he barked into the phone.

The conversation was short, but when it ended, the veins on his forehead were pulsing with fury. “Cowards!” he spat, his voice echoing through the room. “Mobilize my soldiers to secure your home while a school is under attack? Have you lost your minds?"

The call came in again. He glanced at the screen: Governor Dennis. Erickson sneered and let it ring out, already plotting his next move.

“They’ll pay,” he muttered, his fists clenching as he started laying out his plans.

.

.

.

Luke shot another glance at Akin, his mind racing with suspicion. Something about him didn’t sit right. He’d been unusually calm, even as the chaos unfolded, and that only fueled Luke’s unease.

“Hey, Luke,” Mira’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stepped closer, her expression soft but concerned.

“What’s up?” he replied, trying to sound casual, though his mind was still preoccupied.

“Do you have your phone on you?” she asked.

Luke froze, his stomach dropping. “Oh, crap—my parents!” He scrambled to check his pockets, fumbling for his phone. When he finally pulled it out, the screen remained dark. He pressed the power button repeatedly, but it was no use—the battery was dead.

“Damn it,” he muttered, smacking his forehead in frustration. “I knew I should’ve charged it earlier. I was so caught up in everything, I didn’t think…”

Mira placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Luke. It’s not your fault. No one saw this coming.”

“Have you asked the others?” he asked, his tone tinged with desperation.

She sighed. “Yeah. Either they don’t have their phones with them, or they’re out of credit. It’s like the universe is playing some kind of sick joke on us.”

Luke exhaled heavily, leaning against the wall. “So, we’re completely cut off.”

“For now,” Mira said, her voice steady. “But we’ll figure it out. We just need to stay calm and keep moving forward.”

Luke nodded, though the weight of their situation pressed down on him. Every passing second felt like an eternity, and the silence from the outside world was deafening.

"They are coming" Bayo's feverish voice came up.

"what the-" Collins started confused.

Luke and Mira exchanged uneasy glances, the faint groans outside growing louder. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone else noticed it too. Collins, pacing near the barricade, stopped and gripped the metal pipe tighter.

“You hear that?” Collins asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Jeff replied, moving closer to the door. “Sounds like more of them.”

Justin set down his half-eaten pack of biscuits, for once looking serious. “Why does it feel... organized? Like they’re all moving in sync.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Akin scoffed from his corner. “They’re zombies, not soldiers.”

“Then why are they quieter now?” Luke cut in, narrowing his eyes. He stepped toward the barricade, tension thrumming through him. The groans had subsided, replaced by an eerie stillness.

Before anyone could respond, a deafening crash jolted them. The barricade rattled violently, the shelves creaking under the pressure. Everyone froze, their hearts racing as another crash followed, more forceful this time.

“They’re trying to break through!” Favour shouted, clutching his book like a shield.

“No kidding,” Collins snapped, moving into a defensive stance.

Luke gestured for everyone to grab something—anything—they could use as a weapon. “Get ready,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the panic. “Stay together, and don’t let them corner you.”

The next crash splintered the barricade, the infected outside pushing through with terrifying force. But something about the way they moved stopped Luke cold. They weren’t charging wildly or clawing at random. They were deliberate, almost methodical, like they were following... orders.

“What the hell?” Mira whispered, gripping Luke’s arm. “This isn’t normal.”

Before Luke could respond, the barricade gave way entirely. The first wave of infected stumbled into the room, their blank, milky eyes locked onto the group. But they weren’t heading straight for them. Instead, they moved with chilling precision toward the far side of the room—where Bayo lay, feverish and weak.

“No!” Luke shouted, rushing toward Bayo, but Akin grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Don’t be stupid!” Akin hissed. “You can’t save him!”

“They’re taking him!” Mira screamed, pointing as the infected dragged Bayo from his makeshift bed. He barely resisted, his fever leaving him too weak to fight back. His moans of protest were drowned out by the guttural growls of the zombies.

“This doesn’t make sense!” Favour cried, backing into a corner.

Justin swung a broken chair leg, smashing it over the head of one of the infected. “What do you mean, doesn’t make sense? They’re zombies!”

“No!” Luke yelled, his voice thick with frustration. “They’re targeting him! Why? Why him?”

“They must know something we don’t!” Jeff shouted, pulling Collins back as another infected lunged at them. “Focus on staying alive first!”

The group fought desperately, but the infected seemed disinterested in most of them, their focus remaining on Bayo. Within moments, the sick student was dragged out of the room, the remaining zombies retreating with him as quickly as they had come.

And then, just like that, the room fell silent again. The door hung broken, the barricade destroyed.

“What the hell just happened?” Collins asked, his voice shaking.

“They weren’t attacking us,” Mira said, her face pale. “They were after him.”

Luke clenched his fists, his mind racing. “Someone—something—is controlling them. This isn’t random.”

A heavy silence fell over the group as they tried to process what had just happened. The reality of their situation had shifted yet again, and the questions looming over them were darker than ever.

Who—or what—was pulling the strings?