A few hours earlier, at the high school.
The high school cafeteria, which had been a hive of frantic activity just yesterday as it became a makeshift refuge, was now steeped in a suffocating silence. The air smelled of weak coffee and stale bread, the only provisions they had managed to ration for breakfast. The tables, still marked by dried bloodstains and scratches from the previous day's cleanup, were occupied by a scattered group of students and teachers, each lost in their own thoughts.
The dawn light filtered weakly through the windows, casting long shadows that seemed to shift with a life of their own. Outside, the world was still crumbling: distant sirens, sporadic gunshots, and the occasional echo of a scream slashed through the quiet, a constant reminder that the safety of these walls was temporary.
Marlon, seated in the corner of a table, stirred a cup of cold coffee with a plastic spoon. His eyes, usually bright with a spark of humor, were dull, fixed on an invisible point. Alex and Tim's absence weighed like a leaden slab.
Alex, with his almost inhuman pragmatism, had transformed the school into a bastion in less than a day and a half. He had guided terrified students and disoriented teachers, showing them how to build barricades, use improvised weapons, and face the zombies, which only fell with a direct hit to the brain.
But now he was gone, taking Emily, Tim, and a small group toward Ron's refuge. Marlon squeezed the spoon until his knuckles turned white. He had learned from Alex: how to move stealthily, how to aim for the head, how to stay calm when panic threatened to consume everyone. But leadership wasn't his thing. He wasn't Alex.
Yesterday, he had spoken to his family on the phone. The signal, miraculously intact, allowed him to hear his mother's trembling voice. They told him his grandfather had been bitten by an infected neighbor on Friday afternoon, just as the chaos began. The military had evacuated them before they could reach him, and now they were trapped in a makeshift camp, far from Marlon.
"Help will come soon," he had told them, thinking of Ron's promise. But deep inside, a cold voice whispered that plans could fail. In this apocalypse, everything could go wrong.
Marlon put the cup down on the table and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. He needed a plan to stay alive, to reach his family. But leading this group—students with strong personalities and professors who thought they knew everything—was a task that overwhelmed him.
Beside him, Sophie nibbled on a piece of bread, her face serene but her hands restless, winding and unwinding a napkin. She lived alone in the city, and her parents, who worked abroad, had confirmed they were safe in an official refuge, thanks to their professional specialties.
"The borders are closed," they had told her, their voices breaking over the line. "We can't travel, but we're okay." Sophie had hidden her relief and her pain, assuring them she was safe, that she could defend herself. Her stubbornness, a family inheritance, drove her forward.
Yesterday, she had watched Alex closely, absorbing every lesson on traps, rationing, and organization. She didn't have the courage to face the zombies head-on, but her analytical mind had grasped something more valuable: Alex's logic of survival. With just a few words, he had taught her to adapt her intellect to this broken world. Now, looking at her peers, she saw problems others missed: the lack of leadership, the faltering morale, the limited supplies.
Minnie, sitting across from Sophie, looked more resolute. She had also spoken with her parents, safe in a refuge far from the city. Like Sophie, she had hidden the pain of separation, promising them they would reunite, no matter how long it took. "I can defend myself," she had told them, and she believed it.
Yesterday, she had joined Alex in clearing the buildings and Tim in cleaning the gym, wielding a makeshift spear with a bravery she hadn't known she possessed. Now, eating in silence, her mind reviewed Alex's lessons: how to use the terrain to her advantage, how to distract the zombies, how to survive with ingenuity. But even she felt the vacuum Alex and Tim had left. Without them, the high school felt more vulnerable, as if the barricades could fall apart at any moment.
Louis, seated on the other side of the table, fiddled with an improvised knife, his expression oscillating between frustration and resignation. He hadn't managed to contact his family, and every hour that passed without news gnawed at him. Yesterday, he had followed Alex like a soldier, helping to reinforce entrances and eliminate stragglers. But now, without a figure to unite them, he felt lost. He looked at Marlon, waiting for some sign of leadership, but Marlon was absorbed in his own thoughts.
Professor Carter, a middle-aged man, approached the table with a tray of food. He had been one of the few adults who worked side-by-side with Alex during the cleanup, and his presence brought an echo of the authority they had lost. He sat down with a sigh, looking at the students with a mix of weariness and determination.
"How is everyone doing?" he asked, his voice rough but kind.
No one replied; they were all so caught up in their thoughts that they failed to answer. They were all thinking the same thing, but no one seemed ready to start talking.
Sophie saw her chance. In a neutral tone, as if presenting a school project, she said, "We're in a good position, all things considered. We have barricades, food for weeks, water, generators... But we all know that outside, people are suffering. And they will keep suffering." She paused, letting her words sink in. "We can't just sit here waiting for someone to save us. We need to get organized, now."
Marlon looked up, surprised by Sophie's firmness.
"And what do you propose?" he asked, his tone more curious than challenging. "Alex isn't here. Tim isn't either. It's us against... all of that." He made a vague gesture toward the windows, where the echo of a distant gunshot served as a reminder.
"Alex left us tools," Sophie replied, leaning forward. "He taught us to reinforce barricades, to ration, to fight. But he also showed us that the real danger isn't just the zombies. It's the disorder, the desperation, and maybe even the people themselves... If we don't organize, we'll crumble from the inside."
Minnie nodded, her eyes shining with determination. "She's right. Yesterday, I saw what happens when people panic. It almost cost us the gym. We need a plan, something to keep us alive until Ron's help arrives... if it arrives."
Louis grunted, spinning the knife between his fingers. "What if it doesn't? What do we do then? Stay here forever?"
Carter intervened, his voice calm but firm. "We can't assume help won't come. Ron promised to send buses, and Alex said he'd return himself, if necessary, he even left his radio... But in the meantime, Sophie is right. We need structure. Watch shifts, trap-checking teams, a system for supplies. If we divide, we will fall."
Marlon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not Alex," he said, almost to himself. "I don't know if I can lead everyone. There are too many strong opinions here, and not everyone listens."
"You don't need to be Alex," Sophie said, looking directly at him. "We just need to work together. You know how to fight, Marlon. Minnie does too. I can organize the resources, the shifts. Louis, you're good with your hands, you can help with the traps. And Professor Carter, you can keep the adults in line. It's not about a leader; it's about a team."
The silence that followed was different—less oppressive. For a moment, the group felt a flicker of the hope Alex had ignited.
Marlon nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's make a plan. But if we're going to do this, we'll do it right. No improvising... We'll try to do what Emily wanted from the start... We'll build a real refuge."
Minnie smiled, a small but genuine gesture. "For Alex, for Emily... For us," she said, raising her coffee cup as if in a toast.
"For us," the others repeated, even Louis, though his voice was more of a grunt.
Outside, the world was still collapsing, but inside the cafeteria, something new was beginning to form: not just a temporary refuge, but a group willing to survive, with or without help.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Another short chapter, since I'm exhausted, though not as much as yesterday.
Also, this is a test of whether I can expand the novel much more than simply sticking to Emily, since she and this group will remain linked for a long time.
What? Is this a spoiler?
We'll see.
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Read my other novels
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 84)
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time (Chapter 104)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 10) (INTERMITTENT)
You can find them on my profile.]