When one door closes another opens. I find that to be complete BS. When one door closes you shut it, or someone shuts it for you and that’s all. This isn’t physics class where every action causes a reaction. Someone has to open or shut the next door, simple as that. I know, it’s more of a parable, or metaphor, or whatever. But when faced with a bunch of doors, I found myself upset that one didn’t simply open for me. 

I led a normal life, I think. Grew up, did okay in school, met an amazing woman, spit out a couple of kids. Worked my 9 to 5. Saved money to grow our nest egg. Got old. Went to bed. Woke up in this stupid room. At least that’s what I thought happened. It was a little fuzzy. 

Pretty sure I died and went to purgatory or something. Because I wasn’t being tortured and wasn’t surrounded by angels. Purgatory was really the only option left that made sense. Around me was a large room about 20 feet by 20 feet. Black walls with 12 doors on the perimeter that led somewhere. The doors appeared to be red, there was red emergency lighting over each one, so they could have been white and the lights made them look red. 

3 doors on each wall, they sat menacingly silent. The only sound in the room was the electric hum from the red lights over the doors. I had awoken a little over an hour ago on the hardwood flooring and had been debating what to do next. 

Looking down at my body I appeared younger than last I remembered. Shorter too. I should have been about 40 years old, little bit of a beer gut, graying arm hair. Now I was shorter, slimmer, and from what I could see the hair on my head was back to it’s long unruly style. Pulling a tuft it looked the same as when I was a kid and still had kind of a curl to it. 

Grinding my teeth I wasn’t liking this. Didn’t like this room. Didn’t like the lack of information or the ambiance of the creepy doors staring at me. Didn’t like that my body wasn’t the flabby husk I had groomed over decades as I became complacent with my life. 

Letting out a long sigh I decided to just go for it. No more second guessing myself. Since all the doors and walls looked the same I needed something to anchor myself. Some sort of reference to know if maybe I was thrown back in the room, or got turned around I wouldn’t take the same door again. After a life of anime and fantasy books it was very possible. I was in a very lucid fantasy already, might as well try to establish some normalcy. 

Looking down at my body I was wearing simple jeans and a black T-shirt. Digging through my pockets I found my normal everyday pocket fillers. Keys, wallet, no cell phone, but better than nothing. Finding a key that I couldn’t remember where it went to I twisted it off the ring and chose a door at random. I began to think of this wall as North and the door was the North-north-west door or NNW. 

“Wait no,” I said, looking around. “12 doors. Like a clock. I’ll call this one 11 o’clock.”

Laying the key down in front of it I gripped the brass door knob and walked through. I was met with black nothingness. The door and room behind me disappeared. I panicked a little, but as I blinked the room brightened. Lights and shapes quickly appeared as I was revealed to be standing in a classroom. 

All eyes upon me I blinked rapidly. I had never been in this room before. Easy to distinguish as a classroom with the desks and students, it was not one from America. It was way nicer. Windows lining the walls there were desks and students sitting in rows on either side of me. They all appeared younger, perhaps 16 years old. Some had an Asian look, but there were interesting hair styles and colors that made them familiar but not real. 

“Mr. Watanabe,” a voice said. Looking up I saw an older teacher. With some weight on him he gave me a very angry stare. Unsure what else to do I dropped down into the chair underneath me. Blushing from all the stares I was finally met with some information. 

“Fuck,” I whispered. I was stuck in some sort of game. I probably had a System watching and controlling everything. I was about to bring up my status screen when another pop-up appeared. 

The name finally registered with me. High School of the Dead was a manga/anime where there was a zombie outbreak. Only about 30 chapters, it had a huge following but dropped off the map without an ending or real solution to the zombie problem. It followed different groups of high school kids dealing with drama and trying to survive the apocalypse. 

The real issue was, this was not a safe place. People died all the time in the manga, even if people liked them. Well, except for the disproportionately stacked beauties anyway. But the guys died. And I was a guy. I began to sweat as I looked around. My leg tapping quickly I needed information. I needed a weapon. I needed everything. 

Without a word I got up from my desk. People staring at me again, I walked out without a word. The teacher or whoever yelled at me but I ignored him. My eyes scanning I found a restroom closeby. Stepping in I found a mirror to look at myself. I was about 16 again. A pimple on my chin I instinctively moved to pop it. 

My unruly mop of hair was still on my head, just like in my last life. Pale skin, no real muscle to speak of, I was my younger self. As I studied myself in the mirror a sharp pain bloomed in my head. Wincing I held my hand to my head as memories began rushing in. 

I was Weston Watanabe, or Watanabe Weston, however the hell they did things in Japan. My dad was Japanese and my mom was American, which wasn’t true in my last life. I had a normal school life, did average in school, I was being bullied, but spent my time jerking off or studying. 

Images of the life continued to flash through my mind. My eyes shut trying to process it all. I had cursory understanding of this body. The pain increasing it hit me harder and harder then was gone. In an instant I was fine. Staring at myself in the mirror again. Breathing in and out I said what I needed to. “Status.” 

“Damn,” I said. I was hoping for levels and stats. Not this lackluster of information that I already knew. I guessed the Memory Meld was what I just went through. Either time in the world, or staring at myself in the mirror must have been a trigger for it. Feeling better as I became more confident with my current body I turned to the door as it opened. 

Expecting the teacher I was unpleasantly surprised to see my first zombie. Blood pouring down the man’s face he was missing a chunk of his cheek. Pale gray skin, scuffed and tattered clothing I was very unlucky. How the hell had no one yelled or done anything while this guy walked the halls?

The zombie noticed me. Growling it began to shamble toward me. No weapon in sight, panicking, and ready to be done I ran into the bathroom stall. Locking it the door rocked as the zombie hit it. 

“Fuck this. World Escape,” I said aloud. Then everything turned black once more.