Frozen Vigil
I never thought I'd feel relief tied to a cold air vent. But after the chaos in the principal's office—broken glass, that shrieking thing that looked like Principal Bradford, the corridor full of dead faces—I clambered into the vent and slid forward on my belly. Nika followed right behind me, tears still wet on her cheeks. We pressed our backs to the metal, listening to the scrape of chairs and splintering wood below. The world felt broken, and all we had left was each other.
We pressed on in silence, moving bump by bump through the narrow duct. My flashlight lay forgotten on the floor of the office below. We had nothing but the weak glow from my phone. The cold metal of the vent gripped our skin through our clothes. Every breath tasted like rust and old air. My heart pounded so loudly I thought it would burst through my chest.
Eventually the vent ended above the girls' dorm hallway. I pried off the grille with trembling fingers—it dropped with a clang—and we slid out into the pale moonlight spilling through a long window at the corridor's end. The floor was littered with shards of glass and debris: chair legs, notebooks, and footprints in the frost that had worked its way in through broken windows.
"Where now?" Nika whispered, voice cracking.
I swallowed hard, scanning the empty hall. At the far end, the cafeteria was lit with a sickly red glow. Emergency lights still flickered there. "We go to the cafeteria," I said. "It's the biggest room. Maybe there are other survivors."
She nodded and brushed her hair from her face. Her parka sleeve was torn and stained. "Okay," she said. "Let's go."
We stepped lightly across the frost that covered the linoleum floor. Each footprint sounded like a gunshot in the empty building. My phone's light bobbed ahead of us. The hall was eerily silent—no echoes of screams or moans this time, just a low hum from the emergency wiring. I kept waiting for something to pounce from the shadows.
Halfway there, we passed the trophy case outside the gym. I recognized the broken glass and the trophies knocked to the floor. A smear of dark red crossed the wall behind it—like someone dragged themselves along. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "Who did this?" I murmured. Nika shivered beside me. "I don't want to know," she said. I nodded.
I glanced at the classrooms we passed: most doors were locked from the inside, windows decked with snow. In one room, a pile of desks was heaped against the door. I slipped my phone through the gap in the door frame and looked inside. It was empty except for a lone backpack on the floor. Maybe its owner escaped. Or maybe they didn't.
At last, we reached the cafeteria doors, double steel slabs smeared with frost and blood. The red emergency lights pulsed above. I pressed my ear to the door. Voices—soft, but frantic—echoed inside. Relief and dread warred in my chest.
I gave a jittery knock. "Nika and Satrio," I called. "Anyone in there?"
A muffled reply: "Over here!"
We launched the doors open. Inside, about twenty students and three teachers huddled under overturned tables. Someone had broken the main windows; snow drifted in and covered the tile floor. The tables formed a makeshift fortress. I recognized some faces: Lena, soaked in tears; Max, clutching his arm, which was bandaged haphazardly; Coach Roberts, grabbing an older student's shoulder, and Nurse Clarke, eyes wide as she checked a newcomer's forehead.
Relief flooded me. They were alive. Until tonight, I thought we might be the only survivors.
"Guys," I panted. "We made it."
Lena jumped up and ran toward me. She threw her arms around my waist. "Thank God," she sobbed. "We thought you were gone."
I hugged her back, pressing my face into her parka. "We're okay," I murmured, "but we can't stay here."
Max peeked under the table. His eyes were red, frightened, but he managed a small smile. "What happened? We heard screaming. Who's out there?"
I shared a quick glance with Nika, who was shaking. "It's the… things," she said softly. "Possessed teachers, students. We saw them in the halls."
Coach Roberts stood and cleared his throat. He was a big man, warm voice usually booming, but now calm. "We locked ourselves in after the attack. We lost power to the comms, but the cafeteria lights are on battery." He pointed at the red bulbs. "We patched what we could. Nurse Clarke is tending to wounds."
Nurse Clarke glanced up. "So far, nothing life-threatening. Mostly cuts and frostbite. We're safe for now."
I swallowed. "We need a plan. We can't just huddle here forever. They're probably surrounding the building."
Coach Roberts nodded. "Agreed. We need to decide: wait for rescue or try to escape. Our phones are dead, right?"
I shook my head. "No signal. I tried."
Lena hugged herself. "What about my parents? They're back in town. The bulletin said we should shelter. But the town's gone mad."
My stomach dropped. My parents were miles away in their cabin. "We need to check on them," I said. "But how?"
Max gripped a fork like a makeshift weapon. "If we can get to the maintenance shed, there's a school truck. Could drive out."
Coach Roberts frowned. "Truck? In this storm? The roads are probably packed with snow. We might not make it."
Nurse Clarke added quietly, "But if we stay, those things will find us."
A hush fell. I looked at each face: Lena, shaking; Nika, pale; Max, determined; Coach Roberts, calculating; Nurse Clarke, worried. No easy choice.
I swallowed and spoke up. "I say we try. We head for the maintenance shed, get the truck, and go north. There's a service road that runs along the ridge. If we move fast, we can reach the highway, maybe get help."
Coach Roberts studied me. Then he nodded. "Okay. That's our plan."
Nurse Clarke gathered first-aid kits. "I'll bring supplies."
Lena's lip trembled. "What about supplies to last us? Food, warmth…"
I gestured to the cafeteria's kitchen entrance. "Take what we can: canned food, flashlights, propane heater if we find one. We'll load it in the truck."
Max slammed his hand on the table. "Then let's do it."
We moved as a unit. I felt a spark of hope in their eyes. For the first time since the terror began, I believed we might survive.
Coach Roberts unlocked the kitchen door with his key ring. Inside, dusty shelves held stacks of canned beans and soup, energy bars, and packets of coffee. Nurse Clarke collected first-aid kits, bandages, and pain killers. Lena grabbed spare gloves and hats. Nika pocketed extra batteries. I filled my backpack with canned soup and water bottles.
In the back room, we found cleaning supplies: a propane heater, rolls of paper towels, and a heavy-duty shovel. Max picked up the shovel and smiled grimly. "Useful for the truck," he said.
We formed a chain to carry boxes out of the kitchen and stack them beside the cafeteria doors. By the time we finished, our fortress looked more like a supply dump than a hiding spot.
Coach Roberts checked his watch. "We have ten minutes before the next storm gust hits. We need to move now."
We filed out of the cafeteria into the hall, walking in single file. The emergency lights flickered ominously as we passed the trophy case. The hallway was silent. Too silent.
At the end of the hall, the maintenance door waited—a heavy steel door with a small window. I pressed my ear to it. No voices. No scratching. I unlocked it and pushed it open. A blast of cold air hit us, and we all gasped. Outside, a blizzard raged. Snow whipped across the parking lot in white sheets. Visibility was almost zero.
Coach Roberts led the way down the ramp to the maintenance shed. I keyed the door code from memory. The door clicked open. Inside, the big garage held a single white school truck, half-covered in snow. Its engine block was cold to the touch. I rubbed my hands together and opened the hood. The battery was dead; wires were chewed. Likely the nightly storm or maybe something else.
Max sighed. "We need a jump."
Nurse Clarke scanned the garage. "There are portable jump packs in that corner." She pointed at a red toolbox. I opened it: two bulky jump-starters, cables, and a small fuel can. Score.
Max hooked up the cables and charged the battery. After a tense moment, the engine roared to life. My heart raced with adrenaline. We exchanged relieved smiles.
"Good work," Coach Roberts said. "Now, let's load up and go."
We dragged the boxes and supplies onto the truck bed. I climbed into the cab beside Max, who was driving. Nika climbed in the back with Lena, Nurse Clarke, and a box of canned soup. Coach Roberts rode shotgun.
Max shifted into gear. The truck lurched forward and out of the garage. The engine's growl boomed inside the shed. Then we were in the snowy lot, headlights slicing through the storm.
I stared at the campus behind us: dark windows, broken glass, creeping shadows. My stomach twisted. We were leaving friends behind. What if more survivors were still trapped? But we had no choice.
Max guided the truck onto the service road, tires crunching on packed snow. The wind slapped the windows so hard I thought it would shatter them. He turned on the heater and defrosted the windshield. Warm air displaced the frost.
My phone buzzed—it must have picked up a faint signal. I switched it on. Nothing. Black screen. Probably just a glitch.
I stared at the dark cabin next to me. Coach Roberts stared straight ahead, jaw set. Behind us, I heard soft sobs as Lena clutched her blanket. Nika sat in stunned silence. Nurse Clarke checked on her, offering words I couldn't hear over the engine.
We crested a small hill. In the headlights' glow, I saw the service road cut through dense spruce forest. The trees leaned in, branches iced and weighed down. It felt like driving through a frozen tunnel.
After a few miles, Max slowed. "We need to refuel soon," he said. "The tank's half-full. The cabin's another ten miles east."
My throat tightened. My parents' cabin relied on a small generator. If they didn't have extra fuel, they'd be freezing. And the storm was only getting worse.
"Okay," I said. "Let's keep going."
Max nodded and pressed down on the gas. The tires spun as we hit a patch of fresh snow. The truck fishtailed, and I grabbed the dash. My heart pounded. Max fought the wheel and steadied the truck.
In the rearview mirror, I thought I saw a figure at the edge of the road. A pale shape briefly limned in the snow. My breath caught. I blinked, and it was gone.
I swallowed and leaned forward. "Did you see that?" I asked Max.
He glanced back. "See what?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Probably my eyes playing tricks."
But deep down, I knew the things weren't done with us. They were hungry. And we were running straight into their frozen lair.
Suddenly, the headlights illuminated a corpse-like figure standing in the middle of the road: a tall, thin shape draped in a tattered teacher's coat. Its arms hung awkwardly. Snow gathered in its hair. Black eyes reflected our lights.
Max yelled and slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded and slid to a halt inches from the figure. I slammed my hand on the dashboard, tried the door handle—it was stuck. The thing raised one arm slowly.
I felt nausea rise. I reached for the staple gun strapped to my belt—a makeshift weapon. But Max yanked me back as the creature stepped forward. Its jaw clacked open in a silent scream.
The truck's horn blared, echoing against the spruce. The creature recoiled, then lunged at the driver's window. Coach Roberts slapped the glass. "Drive, Max!"
Max cranked the wheel and punched the gas. The truck lurched forward, fishtailed, then roared past the thing. Snow and debris puffed in its path. I saw its head twist unnaturally as we sped by.
Branches scraped the sides of the truck. I closed my eyes, praying we'd make it. My heart hammered. The engine's roar drowned everything.
After what felt like forever, Max slowed, finding firmer ground. The screaming figure was gone from the road. We all sat in stunned silence, blood pounding in our ears.
I exhaled, hands shaking. "We… we have to keep moving," I whispered. "It's just the start."
Nika squeezed my arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't—"
I shook my head. "We can do this. We have to."
Max nodded. "I know a shortcut. Past that fallen tree, then through the open field. We'll be at the cabin in an hour if we're lucky."
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Let's go."
As the truck rumbled on, the forest closing around us, I stared out at the darkness. The road ahead was uncertain, frozen, and full of monsters. But behind me, the warmth of other survivors gave me hope.
For now, we were alive—and together. But with Ulzakar's hunger stalking every frozen mile, I knew this night would last forever.