She stalked the dark hallways of the school, making sure that she made no unnecessary sounds that would attract anyone. She had been following her Math teacher for a few minutes now and was positive that she had seen him wander into the school building.
She checked her watch- she had about an hour to the curfew. The school was deserted, as it had been for the last summer month. She was being extra cautious-she didn’t want anyone seeing her follow her teacher into the school. That could only bring trouble.
She followed her teacher into the dark hallways. Her teacher seemed to be wandering aimlessly, oblivious to his follower. She waited for him to move into someplace quieter so she could make her move.Finally, her teacher stopped in front of the bathroom, probably intrigued by the sound of rumbling pipes and slowly made his way inside.
“Perfect”, she muttered to herself as she reached around for her pink backpack and withdrew a bloodied, solid, lead pipe fro within and made her way into the bathroom. She carefully closed the bathroom door behind her and ever so softly turned the lock. The soft clink of the lock made her teacher turn around to face her. She could see the look of confusion in the old man’s eyes.
She followed his gaze to the lead pipe in her hands and watched as his face contorted into a hideous snarl as he lunged towards her.
A smile forming on her lips, she sidestepped and drove the pipe with all her might into the back of his head with a sickening thump. She watched him crash into the floor. Soon enough, a pool of dark blood formed around his head.
She had done this way too often than she cared to admit.
As her math teacher lay on the white tiled bathroom floor, twitching uncontrollably from the skull bashing he had received just a few seconds earlier, she stood over him, her feet on the either side of his waist, she looked him right in the eye and said “This is for the C- on my last paper” and drove the pipe into his skull again, finishing him.
As she wiped blood and brains from the lead pipe, the walkie-talkie in her backpack crackled.
“Bulldog this is Base. What’s your status over?”
“Base this is Bulldog. The school is clear. I repeat the school is clear. Returning to base now, over and out.”
As she made her way out of the bathroom, she glanced towards the corpse of her math teacher and muttered to herself “Man, this zombie apocalypse is stressful.”