Rohan

Tuesday, March 22nd, 2022 (The day of the Shutdown)

Studying them for any indication of why they were here, Rohan noticed many of them were out of breath with sweat visibly glistening on their foreheads.

Hostilely eyeing the law enforcement officers, the 30 remaining students collapsed in the ring of flashlights that had been set up in the area. If the police and firemen were offended by the gesture, they didn’t show it.

The one in front cleared his throat. “First off, I want to apologize for keeping you here and coming this late. We understand that many of you want to go home, most” — waving to a couple who were clutching their stomachs — “are likely starving. Actually… I’ll start this off with why we’re late.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued. “The entire 401 highway is backed up from Kingston to Richmond Hill. And I don’t mean that it's a simple case of heavy traffic, but cars have completely stalled. A few informed us that they’d purchased their vehicle within the last week and even still it seemed to completely break down.”

“We’re seeing similar cases across the region,” a stocky soldier beside him took over, rubbing the stubble framing his prominent chin.

Nodding for him to proceed, the stout man grimaced, “And there’s no clear indication as to why. For now, things are being left to speculation while our superiors consider all alternatives. We want to assure you that the government will be able to resolve this. And swiftly.”

Unconsciously, Rohan’s hand drifted to his left arm. No, they won’t.

A blonde-haired freshman Rohan hadn’t seen before spoke up, “When will we get to go home?”

“Yeah, and what are we supposed to eat while we wait for you guys?” a voice behind him called out.

The crowd stirred, many raising their voices in agreement and asking similar questions. The two soldiers shared a look of concern, but Mrs. Crouch, who had been absorbing their words silently saved them from embarrassment.

“For now, we’ll move students to the gymnasium where we’ll set up some sleeping areas. That should be sufficient for our current needs. But for food, Mr. Langley will shortly open up the food pantry in the cafeteria and you can then get your dinner.”

Mr. Langley, who was dozing off, jolted up at the mention of his name. Cowering under the piercing look of Mrs. Crouch, he grumbled and walked towards the cafeteria, fiddling with his keys.

The soldiers and firemen gave her a nod of gratitude which she returned.

“We'll be back in the morning and decide what to do. For now, we ask that students remain on the high school's premises,” the first soldier said, while the others began packing the large flashlights, leaving one behind for students’ use.

Leaving through the main doors, while the rest of the students were ushered into the cafeteria Rohan stayed behind, watching the soldiers become pinpricks of yellow in a lightless world. Many whispered to one another, probably about their version of what was happening, but he was too exhausted to pay attention.

Grabbing a bowl he slowly filled his mouth with the cold soup left behind from the school day. The chunks of beans and vegetables provided some relief to his aching stomach.

Gym mats were arranged on the floor to serve as their mattresses for the night. A nervous excitement filled the cavernous gym at the prospect of staying overnight.

Flashlights were held by the teacher to make sure that everyone was settling in comfortably, their rays barely reaching the dark corners of the cavernous ceiling.

He watched them for a while from where he sat in the center of the gym. Others would call him paranoid but he’d chosen his position carefully. If there were any dangers in the night, any fantastical monster that broke down the door would target the students closest to the doors first.

Jake had collapsed on the mattress next to his, already snoring. Yet, even when others eventually succumbed to their fatigue, Rohan continued to stare out into the dark.

If I close my eyes, will it find me again?

That terror that had etched itself into every fiber of his being left him trembling with apprehension once more. He heard the light passing of gas from one of the students but no one complained.

He was the only one awake.

He tried counting sheep and when that didn't work, forcefully held his breath to get his heartbeat lower. It was only when the dawn rays peeked through the exterior gym doors that his body finally relaxed.

Wednesday, March 23rd, 2022 (1 day after the Shutdown)

"OWWWWW! STOP WITH THE FUCKING KICKING!" he bellowed, forcefully awoken by a shoe digging into his spine.

"LANGUAGE!" Mrs. Crouch cried indignantly, her wrinkled face glaring in disapproval.

Serena scampered away before he could catch her. Chortling at his misfortune, she joined Laura who was talking with a few others.

Sunlight was slipping under the gym doors, informing him it was morning. Rubbing at a crusty eye, he looked over at Jake who shook his head groggily at him and collapsed back onto the gym mat.

What’s wrong with her? he thought, glaring at her from across the school gym. Psychotic piece of human trash.

He didn’t remember falling asleep but was glad that he did. His paranoia had left his body feeling hollow and brittle from forcing himself to stay awake. Also with his emaciated physique, he wasn’t sure if he could tolerate an all-nighter.

Mrs. Crouch, who’d realized what Serena had done, directed him towards the dining hall where the other students had started their breakfast. Walking outside in the hall it dawned on him that despite having slept, the monstrous serpent hadn't haunted him which baffled and elated him in equal measures.

But it's not something that I'll complain about.

Thinking about the "why" for a bit more, he suddenly stopped as he stepped into the atrium.

The front doors and the walls adjacent to them were made of glass to allow natural light to enter the building, but that's not what caught his attention.

Mr. Langley was trying to enter his car, repeatedly pressing his keys to open the door. After a few more attempts, he slammed the hood of his car in frustration and walked back towards the main door, crossing the parking lot within a couple of strides of his long legs.

Quickly hiding behind a trophy case that bordered the square-shaped atrium, he listened as Mr. Langley muttered to himself, “20,000 dollars for it and it doesn't work. Goddammit! Useless piece of a s—”

His words were cut off as he entered the cafeteria.

“...”

Was he trying to leave? Rohan didn't want to outright believe that Mr. Langley was ready to quit on them, yet he couldn't really blame the man if he wanted to. He was supposed to be at home, brewing himself a soothing batch of coffee but because of his chosen profession, he had to babysit a bunch of high schoolers.

He could've also been trying to confirm if what the soldiers said was tru— he flinched. Soldiers… why… They were supposed to be here in the morning.

He walked towards the administrative sector of the school and looked into the large room. The receptionists that usually were at the front desks weren't there and even the school's principal, infamous for his strict punctuality, hadn’t shown up.

The large analog clock that hung on the side wall displayed 8:04 a.m. which meant that they should've returned to rescue them. Checking to make sure no one was around, he pulled back his sleeve.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The tattoo of the snake had grown longer from the night before and was blissfully slithering around his arm. "Is this your doing as well?"

“…”

I would’ve shat myself if it answered. Overnight, his skin had grown thick with grime again for reasons he still didn't understand. He'd have to check that out later.

It was three hours later when Mrs. Crouch had gathered the students in the gymnasium, Rohan realized the soldiers weren’t coming that day.

***

One teacher had managed to make their way to the school and was surprised to find teachers and students just sitting around. After discussing the situation with Mr. Langley and Mrs. Crouch, they’d agreed to simulate a school day, leading the 30 remaining students through Biology, Maths, and Design Technology.

Rohan noticed the behavior of the students had adapted quickly to the new format. Most of them had seemingly forgotten about the incident with the sky yesterday, and now productively spent their time grumbling about the current situation to one another.

“Why the hell are we the only ones at school?”

“Dude, there shouldn’t even be school! I thought the military would’ve taken us out of here by now.”

“I’m leaving the first chance I get. We can take bikes outside and make it across.”

Listening to them, Rohan pursed his lips.

Now there’s a thought.

The protests echoed around the empty school as Rohan made his way to the library. To limit the number of students wandering around the school, the three teachers restricted them to the gym, visiting the school’s library, or remaining in the atrium which possessed the most natural light.

When it came to him to choose, he chose to go to the library which made Jake shoot him a quizzical look. Replying with a shrug, he followed Mrs. Crouch and two others to the library. Without any electricity to power the lights, the vast majority of it was hidden in shadows.

“Since it's just the four of us, please select your book and then we’ll head outside. There’s not enough light for us to properly immerse ourselves,” Mrs. Crouch called out as the three of them began exploring the library.

Outside, he thought grimly to himself. Is it safe there? Shouldn’t we stay within the school where it’s safe for us?

He remembered the World Serpent, as he decided to name it, had ripped itself free from the heavens so Rohan highly doubted a few blocks of concrete and rebar would shield him.

Or… I’m still hallucinating. There’s no proof that he’s a physical being…

Taking comfort in the idea, he was too distracted to notice Mrs. Crouch approaching him.

“Please choose your book. The others have finished their selection,” she said with pursed lips.

Mumbling an apology, he started shuffling through the books when he hit upon an idea.

“Mrs. Crouch…” he started, unsure of how to frame the question. “In your professional judgment as a biology teacher… if I wanted to start learning about agriculture and different plants and their uses, which book should I start with?”

As an afterthought, he added, “For complete beginners.”

Raising a manicured eyebrow at the question, she newly appraised him and a trace of a smile shone through her naturally inscrutable face.

“What a peculiar question. Where did this interest come from?” she lightly asked, her tone transitioning to becoming more welcoming.

“Ummm… just curious.”

“Ah, I see,” she replied, clearly disappointed in the lack of depth of his response.

The trace of a smile waned and she turned to the shelf they were both standing by and quickly pulled one out. Handing it to him, Rohan noticed the different flora on the cover, and above it in large white text, it read, “Native Plants of North America”.

Thanking her for the encyclopedia, he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and followed the rest of the students outside.

The way the architects had designed the school was in the shape of a large letter “H”. With two floors, the right-wing was heavily focused on academics, lining with his program’s STEM ideals. The left side contained the Arts and the gym, with the atrium situated between the two wings. The backfields, as the name suggested, were located behind the school and included a large running track and football pitch, which he’d become all too familiar with.

It was outside the right wing of the school that Rohan noticed a vibration emanating from his arm. Reflexively dropping his book, he grabbed his arm, squeezing it until it stilled for a moment, before resuming its erratic behavior.

Hiding his arm behind his back, he asked to use the washroom and walked into one of the seven entrances to the school. When he was certain that no one could see him through the doors' windows, he ran up the stairwell to the second floor. Running past Room 212, he crushed wrappers underfoot as he entered the bathroom.

Ripping off his shirt, it took him a moment to realize what he was looking at.

The snake had grown.

Not just in length or whatever intricate designs had adorned its body. No, this time it was growing outwards like a malignant tumor, pushing against the confines of his skin. Writhing like it was in insurmountable pain, it began to melt into his body, until it left behind stretch marks.

Instantly, his humerus snapped away from his shoulder blade, splintering into fragments until his upper arm decomposed into a sack of flesh. Falling limp to his side, his muscles contracted without his consent and bent, in the wrong way.

His eyes widened. Collapsing to his knees, a ghastly screech flew out from deep inside him, scarring the linings of his throat until sound no longer came out. Disorientated from the sharp intensity, he didn’t notice the bile rising in his throat, flowing out his orifices.

Half-blinded, he could make out the tattoo of the serpent moving past his shoulder blade which had been its last barrier, now having free reign of his entire body.

Stopping over his lungs, it froze for a brief second before circling it like a vulture, till it too faded into his body. He groaned and clawed at the floor, tears streaming from his eyes. A cold knife through his heart and his will finally gave out.

The ground raced up to meet him.

Jake

Being in 12th grade had many perks, including his larger physical presence. Which made absolutely crushing 9th graders in a game of dodgeball a walk in the park.

But even that source of entertainment dried up. Everything was starting to merge into one long school period.

Without any clock to keep track of the time, his gym session seemed to drag on until he got himself knocked out so he could sit on the bench. Lying back on the gym mats, his head lolled back and he relished in its coolness.

The thrill of staying behind at school vanished when the teachers had the brilliant plan of teaching four grades simultaneously. The only one who seemed to share his thoughts was Mr. Langley, but that man had the emotional range of a 6-year-old. Glaring at passing students, his mood had been off since the morning.

Despairing that nothing exciting was happening, his source of entertainment came from an unexpected source.

It was a bloodcurdling scream that reached into his body and took hold of his heart.

Students stopped mid-throw, balls slipping from their fingers to randomly fly all over the gym. Mr. Langley looked up in exasperation, yet as the scream dragged on, his face turned to concern.

“Everyone stay here and continue t— Just play dodgeball! No one is allowed to leave!” he yelled, abruptly standing up, the magazine he was browsing falling onto the floor.

The screaming continued, leading more students to unconsciously move away from the sound, tripping over balls that had been rolling on the ground. Despite his clear orders, students looked at one another and followed him, pushing past the gym doors.

Jake was among the crowd. Walking through the atrium to the right wing of the school, students who’d been lounging in the couches near the ceiling-to-wall windows were staring at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint the scream. Noticing the wave of students following Mr. Langley, a few joined the crowd, swelling the ranks. The screams of terror stopped as suddenly as they started.

Taking stairs at a time, Mr. Langley was halfway down the corridor, struggling to open a bathroom door.

Slamming his palm, he cried out, “Are you okay? This won’t be tolerated if this is a joke!”

Noticing the students at the end of the hall, a flurry of expressions flashed through his face: anger, frustration, and unease. Putting out his hand to signal for them to stop, he put his ear to the door, anxiously trying to make out sounds beyond it.

Jake was at the forefront of the crowd, attentive to Mr. Langley’s expressions. Not being able to make a distinctive sound, Mr. Langley started fumbling for the correct key.

As if that was a signal, the crowd of students surged forward to the door entrance.

Stepping foot within a 3-meter radius, Jake gagged. The sickly scent of rot and decay hung heavily in the air, warning them from coming closer.

Holy mother— what the hell is that smell?!

Eyes narrowing at the students, Mr. Langley ordered them to get another teacher, and one student at the back peeled away to obey his instructions.

Gazing past the door frame, Jake did a double take when he saw the student sprawled on the ceramic tiles. With his shirt off, and his body contorted into an inhuman position, Rohan was hardly recognizable.

Foam and saliva spilled from the corners of his mouth onto the floor. Mr. Langley, undeniably unfit to administer First Aid, tried splashing water onto his face but Rohan didn’t even flinch when it collected on his face, streaming to join the pool of salvia around his head.

Putting two fingers to his neck, a palpable silence fell over the students, crowding outside to await Mr. Langley’s verdict.

1 second…

2 seconds…

3 seconds…

…

49 seconds…

Pale-faced, he turned to Jake who’d been holding his breath.

“I… I can’t find a pulse…” he croaked.