CHAPTER 39: ESCAPE FROM THE LIBRARY

"We have to get out of here!"

"But how?! This is the only entrance and exit!"

The library had become a prison. What was once a safe place for everyone had transformed into a death trap, filled with the terrified voices of the fellow Lexington Charter students.

Outside the barricaded doors, the infected continued their relentless assault. The sound of their fists and bodies slamming against the heavy oak was like a grotesque drumbeat, accompanied by their inhuman snarls and the occasional crack of splintering wood. We’d managed to pile tables, chairs, and bookcases against the entrance, but it was a temporary solution at best.

"Ryan!" Sydney’s hands gripped my shoulders with surprising strength, her fingernails digging into my shirt as she shook me. "Get yourself together!"

I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at the barricade with a kind of horrified fascination, watching it shudder and buckle with each impact. The infected were getting more aggressive, their attacks more coordinated. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

"Y...yeah," I nodded quickly, pulling my bag over my shoulders and forcing myself to focus on the present rather than the nightmare pressing against our defenses. "Yeah, you’re right."

Around us, chaos reigned. Students clustered in small groups, some crying quietly, others frantically looking around for a magical door.

"What do we do?" Daisy muttered her face so pale it looked almost translucent. She stood huddled between Elena and Alisha.

Elena’s eyes met mine across the room, and I could see fear yet trust there—the expectation that somehow, I would find a way out of this mess.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I surveyed our options with growing desperation. The library occupied the entire third floor of the academic building, its ceilings and grand architecture normally a source of pride for our prestigious school. Now, those same features felt like the walls of a tomb.

The main doors were obviously out of the question—even if we could somehow fight through the infected in the hallway, there were dozens more throughout the building. The windows offered a view of the courtyard below, but it was a three-story drop onto concrete, with more infected wandering the grounds like hungry vultures waiting for prey to fall from the sky.

Are we going to die here?In the library of Lexington Charter Private High School?

No. Absolutely not.

I forced myself to think, to push past the paralyzing fear and focus on solutions. There had to be something—some option we hadn’t considered. My gaze drifted back to the tall windows, their ornate frames and thick glass designed to withstand decades of weather and the occasional baseball from the athletics field below.

Wait. We didn’t need to go down. We needed to go up.

I found myself rushing toward the largest of the grand windows, my footsteps echoing off the hardwood floors. I grabbed the nearest chair—a heavy wooden thing with the school crest carved into its back—and dragged it across the floor with a screech that made several students wince.

"What might you be doing?" Liu Mei’s voice held its characteristic note of amused curiosity. She’d been sitting in one of the reading chair, apparently absorbed in a thick volume of classical literature even as chaos erupted around us. Her composure was almost weird—as if she found our life-or-death situation merely entertaining rather than terrifying.

"You better move back," I said, hoisting the chair above my head and testing its weight. It was solid oak, heavy enough to do some serious damage.

Liu Mei’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she didn’t question my demand. Instead, she gracefully closed her book, marked her place with a silk ribbon bookmark, and glided several steps away from the window with the fluid movements of someone trained in dance or martial arts.

"Ryan?" Rachel called me confused. "What are you—"

I was already in motion. Gripping the chair by its legs, I swung it with all my strength against the window.

CRACK!

The impact reverberated through my arms, sending vibrations up to my shoulders. A spider web of fractures appeared in the thick glass, but it held firm. The window was designed to be sturdy—possibly even reinforced—but it wasn’t unbreakable.

Every pair of eyes in the library turned toward me, conversations dying mid-sentence as students tried to process what they were seeing.

"What is he doing?!" Someone screamed from across the room.

"Has he gone completely insane?!" Another voice added, pitched high with hysteria.

I ignored their cries and wound up for another swing. The chair felt lighter now, my body responding with the enhanced strength that had been growing within me since my awakening. The fractures in the glass spread like frozen lightning, beautiful and deadly.

This time, I put everything I had behind the blow. The chair connected with a thunderous crash, and the entire window exploded outward in a shower of glittering fragments. The chair itself splintered in my hands, leaving me holding nothing but broken wooden legs.

Several girls screamed at the sudden violence of it, and I felt a few small cuts open on my hands and arms where flying glass had found its mark.

"You have a plan, or are you just having a breakdown?" Christopher appeared at my side. B

"Yeah," I said. "Our only way out is through the emergency stairs on the rooftop—the ones that lead down the back of the building. Remember what we discussed yesterday?"

Recognition dawned in his expression. I had talked them about our plan to leave yesterday night and now it was becoming useful.

"Right, but why did you break the window?" He asked, gesturing at the gaping hole I’d created.

"I’m going to jump up to the floor above us," I explained, moving closer to the broken frame. "There should be a classroom directly overhead. Once I get inside, I can lower something down to pull the rest of you up."

Christopher’s jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

I could understand his disbelief. To anyone watching, it probably looked like something straight out of an action movie—the kind of impossible stunt that worked on screen but would get you killed in real life. But I wasn’t just anyone anymore. The changes in my body, the enhanced strength and reflexes, made what seemed impossible suddenly achievable.

"This is the only way," I said, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as I could muster.

Christopher leaned through the broken window, craning his neck to look upward. About eight feet above us, a narrow decorative ledge jutted out from the building’s facade. It was made of wrought iron painted black, probably intended to hold flower boxes or serve some other architectural purpose. The metal bars looked sturdy enough to support a person’s weight, but reaching them would require a significant vertical leap.

"Are you sure you can make that jump?" He asked, doubting.

I looked at the distance, calculating angles and force in my head. It was definitely a challenge, but within the range of my enhanced capabilities. "I can do it. But once I’m up there, we’ll need some kind of rope to pull everyone else up."

"I don’t think we have any rope in here," Christopher said, glancing around the library.

"What about our blazers?" I suggested. "If we tie them together strongly enough, they might work as a makeshift rope."

He considered this for a moment. "The fabric isn’t designed for that kind of stress, but if we braid them properly and distribute the weight... yeah, it might work."

"Then I’m leaving that to you," I said, already moving toward the window. "I need to go now, before that barricade gives way completely."

The sound of splintering wood punctuated my words, and we both turned to see one of the table legs crack under the relentless pressure from outside.

"Be careful, man," Christopher said.

"Yeah," I managed a smile that I hoped looked more confident than I felt.

"Hey everyone! Listen up!" Christopher’s voice boomed across the library as he began organizing the other students, explaining our escape plan and directing them to remove their blazers.

I tuned out the resulting commotion and focused on the task ahead. Stepping carefully through the broken window frame, I gripped the edges and positioned myself on the narrow exterior ledge. The wind at this height was stronger than expected, tugging at my clothes and hair with invisible fingers.

Three stories below, I could see infected wandering the courtyard like lost souls, their movements jerky and unnatural. If I fell, there would be no second chances.

I looked up at my target—the wrought iron ledge that would either be my salvation or my doom. The distance seemed even greater from this angle, the metal bars dark against the morning sky.

Taking a deep breath, I bent my knees and felt the enhanced strength coiling in my leg muscles like compressed springs.

I launched myself upward with explosive force, my body cutting through the air with surprising grace. For a heartbeat, I hung suspended between floors, gravity and momentum locked in their eternal struggle.

My hands slammed into the iron bars with a metallic clang that echoed off the building’s facade. The impact sent shockwaves through my arms, but my grip held firm. I hauled myself up, muscles straining against my body weight, until I could hook my elbows over the ledge.

Immediately, my head bumped against something solid—the window of the classroom above. Through the glass, I could see rows of computer desks and workstations, their monitors dark and keyboards covered in a thin layer of dust. Maybe computer lab, probably used for programming classes and digital media projects.

The window was my next obstacle, and unlike downstairs, I didn’t have a chair to use as a battering ram. I would have to rely on raw strength and hope my enhanced abilities were enough to break through.

"This is going to hurt," I muttered, pulling back my right fist and focusing all my strength into a single point of impact.

BANG!

My knuckles connected with the glass in an explosion of pain that shot up my arm like lightning. But the window cracked—a network of fractures spreading outward from the point of impact like a frozen web.

My fist was already turning red and purple with bruises, and I could feel small cuts where the glass had bitten into my skin. But there was no time for hesitation.

BANG!

The second punch shattered the window completely. Glass fragments rained down around me, some embedding themselves in my hand and forearm. I gritted my teeth against the pain and pulled myself through the opening, feeling more cuts open as I scraped against the broken frame.

Behind me, I could hear voices calling up from the library—Christopher organizing the makeshift rope, other students asking if I was okay, the continued sounds of the infected trying to break through our barricades.

"Grrr!"

The guttural snarl yanked me back to the present. My heart pounded in my ears, but my grip on the knife was steady—too steady, almost unnaturally so. I turned on my heel and rushed toward the Infected staggering toward me, its eyes wild and lifeless, its mouth agape with hunger.

In one smooth motion, I ducked low, sidestepped its flailing arms, and drove the blade up into its throat before twisting free. It let out a rasping growl, but I didn’t stop—I moved behind it and slashed clean across its neck. Blood sprayed, hot and sharp-smelling, but I barely flinched. With a sickening crack, the creature’s head lolled, then detached and tumbled to the ground.

I stood over the twitching body, breathing heavily, staring at the blood dripping from my blade. My hands didn’t shake.

"It’s like the first day all over again," I muttered under my breath, my eyes locked on my bloodied fingers. Something inside me had shifted. My body felt light, fluid—every move I made came without hesitation, as though I’d stepped into a state of pure instinct. I wasn’t thinking—I was acting, and that scared me more than the Infected ever could.

It was like I awakened once again...

I didn’t have long to dwell on it.

"Hey!" Christopher’s voice echoed from below, snapping me out of the trance. "Heads up!"

I looked down over the ledge just in time to catch the bundled-up ropes he tossed toward me. Three makeshift ropes, fashioned out of jackets and blazers, tied tightly with duct tape and what looked like strips of torn curtains. Smart. Just one rope wouldn’t have been quick enough. They’d thought it through.

I tested the ropes with a strong tug. The knots held. Good. I could feel the tension in the fabric and the way the tape gripped. It would hold, but still—I wasn’t trusting my life to it, not without testing it more.

"You ready?" I called down.

Christopher looked up at me, confused. "What? Me?"

"Yeah, I need you to help pull people up, faster," I said, wrapping one rope securely around my wrist.

Christopher blinked, then nodded. "Right! Got it. Just drop the rope, man!"

I laughed lightly, trying to hide the pressure gnawing at my chest. From up here, I could see them all below, their faces turned skyward, anxious and tense. Cindy stood near the edge, her eyes darting around nervously. When she saw me, her lips parted like she wanted to call out, but instead, she simply clutched the rope Christopher held.

"Hold tight!" I shouted, lowering the rope slowly.

Christopher took a deep breath and grabbed the line. He was heavier than I expected. My arms strained as I pulled, but I kept going, teeth clenched. I wasn’t going to let go—I couldn’t let go. The rope creaked under the weight, but the knots held. I felt the tension with every tug.

"Almost there!" I grunted.

With a final pull, Christopher scrambled over the ledge, panting hard. "Hell... that was intense."

I clapped him on the shoulder. "We’re just getting started."

He didn’t need telling. Without a word, he grabbed another rope and threw it back down.

"Alright! Let’s move!" I shouted, waving at the people below. "Come up one at a time! Quickly!"

Cindy climbed next, clinging to Christopher’s rope. Her hands trembled slightly, but she kept going, inch by inch. I kept an eye on her, ready to leap in if she slipped. Beside me, Christopher tensed.

"Come on, Cindy, you got this!" He called.

She reached the top and Christopher caught her wrist, pulling her up and over.

"Thanks..." She said.

"Stay low," he said. "Help the others."

On my rope, a woman began climbing—but before she could even get a good grip, Desmond shoved her aside.

"Wait, I was first!" He yelled.

"Seriously?" I muttered, biting back the urge to kick him off.

Still, I pulled him up. No time for drama now.

"T...Thanks!" He stammered as he clambered over.

"Next!" I called.

One by one, they came—two on each rope, cycling through fast. My muscles burned, but adrenaline kept me going. Rachel, Rebecca, Sydney, Elena, Jason, Daisy—they all made it up.

Then came Alisha.

She hesitated at the edge, her injured ankle making each movement agonizingly slow. I moved forward, stretching my arm down toward her.

"I’ve got you!" I said.

She looked up, uncertain. "It’s... it’s risky."

"I don’t care. Grab my hand."

She did. I locked my grip around her wrist and heaved her up carefully, bracing her weight against mine. She nearly collapsed once she was over, but I steadied her.

"T...Thank you," She whispered.

"Rest," I said softly, already turning back.

Only about ten remained below.

Then—crash!

"Kyaaa!" Someone screamed.

"They’ve broken through!" Another voice cried.

Chaos erupted. The library doors burst open and the remaining survivors below panicked. They rushed for the ropes, shoving, clawing at each other.

"Move, I’m next!" Someone shouted.

"Stop! Don’t go two at a time!" Christopher yelled.

But it was too late.

Two students grabbed his rope at once, pulling against each other.

"Damn it!" I growled. I turned to my rope—same situation.

I tried to haul both of them—but then, snap.

A knot tore loose.

I saw their faces as they fell—wide eyes, mouths open in silent terror.

Then the screams came, and I’ll never forget them.

They were devoured before they even hit the floor.

Silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of snarling below.

I couldn’t move. None of us could.

We’d lost them.