It was a wonderful morning, as always. There was no sight of any desecrated corpse of any kind anywhere near the school. The morning bell rang as usual, and hordes of students ran into the classrooms, knocking down several unfinished cookies the kids brought for breakfast, some kids and maybe a teacher or two as well.
But entering the classroom was the most civilized they could be. The classrooms were still buzzing with interesting gossip about that hot teacher who just joined or the release of a new action blockbuster or just about anything kids could talk about.
Let's focus on a particular class. 10-F, to be precise. The boys in this classroom had somehow started an intense debate on whether blue eyes are more appealing than green-colored eyes. One boy even declared that green hazel eyes with platinum hair were the ultimate delight.
Amidst the boys who were busy stating various instances of their preferred eye type appearing in the media, one boy who actually sat on his seat was busy with work. His brown eyes stared into the book he was copying hurriedly with scraggy handwriting.
His dark soot hair reached just above his eyebrows, looking quite uncombed. His mouth was constantly muttering out words he had to write. His looks were just average, with little delightful inconsistencies like a beauty mark right below his delightful peach blossom eyes.
He occasionally spoke of movies with chicks having blue eyes, but never really made active participation.
With all the noise in the atmosphere, a sound more prominent than the others was heard. A teacher had entered the classroom, banging a textbook loudly on the desk, letting everyone know that they had to be silent now.
The boy, who had just finished writing, kept his pen away and stood up with everyone who had rushed into their seats to greet the teacher.
"Good morning, class. Take your seats." He spoke with a slightly unwell tone before writing 'English' on the board with chalk.
"Submit your notebooks at the end of class. Now turn to page 184. Jeff, start reciting."
A boy, quite tall for his age and quite handsome with light brown hair and light blue eyes. You could even see some girls staring at this boy's chiseled jawlines rather than their textbooks.
After the long and boring lesson on the poem which took almost an hour, the teacher sat on the chair.
The students realized that this was their cue to submit their notebooks and started stacking the notebooks on the table.
"Mark, still scribbling like always, huh?" The teacher let out a guffaw, staring at the notebook written just this morning.
Mark, returning to his seat, managed to reply with a "Yeah" and a dry laugh.
"At least it's legible" The teacher spoke receiving a book from another kid.
After all the books were gathered, he stood up, gathering the books in his arms. Or at least tried to, when he suddenly started coughing loudly. The books toppled down on the floor, but he could not stop coughing.
Now, a sensible student opened the teacher's water bottle and another started picking up the books. The teacher tried to drink the water, but most of it ended up spilling on himself and the chair.
The class was obviously shocked. Some students whispered among themselves as to what was happening whereas some ran up to the teacher to help him.
The teacher had started choking and clasping his hands near his chest, gasping for breath as hard as possible.
"Jeff, quick, go call someone from the infirmary." A boy, who had been trying to lay down the teacher on the floor yelled out.
With a quick yes, Jeff ran out of the classroom. The sounds of footsteps grew softer and softer.
The teacher's gasps turned into a short rhythm of inhaling noises until it entirely stopped. The teacher lay there, on the floor, drenched in water, looking lifeless. His pupils were dilated, his self unsure of its death or life.
By now, the classroom had quietened down to a library. Everyone could hear Mark, who was already next to the boy holding the teacher's wrists.
"How is he? Should I go call a teacher?"
The boy replied, moving his hand up to the teacher's face to check his breathing.
"I'm not sure. I can't-"
But before he could complete his words, the entire classroom with 28 breathing students could hear footsteps from the hallway.
"Is that Jeff? How did he go to the infirmary so fast?" The boy holding the teacher turned his head towards the door.
That door was pushed open with a force that could exceed a bullet train and was shut just as fast.
The boy was bewildered.
"Jeff! Where's miss Katelyn? And why'd you close-"
"Shut up, George." Jeff addressed him sternly before taking a deep breath.
The other kids were just as shocked, but they did not want to talk against Jeff, the perfect student, who had never made a mistake or got on the teacher's wrong side. He was the apple of every teacher's eye, after all. They didn't want to get on his bad side, and even if he did screw up, maybe the teachers would stop praising Jeff so much.
Poor George, now much more surprised, couldn't speak since he was cut short by Jeff again.
"Everyone, stay away from him. And Mark, redistribute their mobiles. Fast." And Jeff took out his phone from a pocket, though nobody was surprised. After all, the teachers never collected Jeff's phone during classes.
"Uhm, Jeff, but-" Mark began to question him, not quite understanding anything.
"Mark, just do as I say." Jeff sounded exasperated and threw his phone to Mark which the latter promptly caught.
Mark took a peek at the phone, let out a short yelp, and dropped the phone. Thankfully, the phone survived. He then picked it up and threw it at George.
George took a peek at the phone, let out a short yelp, and dropped the phone. Thankfully, the phone survived.
The scene was pretty comical as someone even let out a chuckle.
It was definitely not me.
Most boys and girls now crowded around Jeff's phone to look at the "amusing" content that made people yelp.
By then, Jeff hurried to the teacher's sprawled body. He took off his tie and started tying the teacher's legs.
"Is that... real?" Suddenly, a face popped up in front of him. George took off his tie and handed it to Jeff.
"Tie his arms as well. But not the mouth. He might not be a Zombie."
"Sure. And it is real." Jeff took them and started working on the arms as well.
By now, the class had passed around the phone several times and were now silent, except for the tiny whispers and the kids occasionally asking Jeff if this was real.
And if the teacher is a Zombie now.
