Time moved like a sluggish tide, slow and suffocating.

The classroom, once filled with whispers and hushed arguments, had now fallen into a tense silence. The only sounds were the occasional creaks of shifting bodies and the dull, rhythmic ticking of a broken wall clock. The air was thick with anticipation, fear, and something far more dangerous—hope.

They were waiting.

Waiting for news.

Waiting for any sign that the five who had left would return.

A Plan for Survival

Before their departure, they had laid out a plan—one that was far from perfect but at least gave them a sliver of control over the situation.

1. Communication:

Each of the five had been given a phone, one that still had battery life. The idea was simple: they would call or message if they found food, a way out, or if they were in danger. The classroom, in turn, would keep their own phones on hand, ready to respond if anything went wrong.

But even this plan had its flaws. How long would the batteries last? How reliable was the signal in this twisted apocalypse? And most concerning of all—what if they needed help but couldn't make a call in time?

2. Makeshift Weapons:

Without real weapons, they had to improvise. Metal rods from broken chairs, sharp wooden splinters wrapped with cloth for grips, pens with their sharp points exposed—anything that could be used to fight, to stab, to wound.

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The weapons weren’t ideal, but they were light enough to carry and wouldn’t slow them down if they had to run.

Ash had watched as Allen and his group tested them, their faces grim with focus. No one here was a trained fighter, but desperation could push people to do things they never imagined.

3. Emergency Entry:

If things went wrong, the classroom door would be opened immediately. No hesitation. No questioning.

Nick, surprisingly, had volunteered to be the one to open the door if the group came running back.

The decision had been met with brief silence.

Nick, the same person who had scoffed at the idea of leaving. The same person who had argued against risking their lives. Now volunteering to hold the door open?

Ash didn’t know what to make of it.

A part of him wanted to believe that Nick had simply stepped up, that he had realized the importance of teamwork. After all, no matter their past disagreements, they had been classmates for years. There was a bond there, however weak.

But another part of Ash couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

Was Nick really willing to help?

Or was he ensuring that if things got bad, the door would remain closed?

Ash shook the thought away. No. I can’t think like that. Not yet.

As the hours passed with no news, Ash quietly pulled his closest friends aside.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a few biscuits and candies—just enough to give them a little energy. It wasn’t much, but in this environment, even a single bite felt like a blessing.

Their eyes lit up. The hunger had been gnawing at all of them, their bodies sluggish and their minds foggy. When Ash handed them the small portions, there was no need for words—just quiet gratitude.

"Keep it down," Ash murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is all I have left. Make it last."

That wasn’t entirely true. There was still one more biscuit and a few candies in his bag, but something in him hesitated.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t kindness or survival instinct.

It was greed.

An unconscious, deeply ingrained fear that if he gave everything away now, he would regret it later. That if the worst came, if starvation pushed people past their limits, he might need that extra bit of food for himself.

He swallowed hard. Is this what hunger does to people?

He had never considered himself selfish. But now, when it mattered, he was hoarding. Just like the monsters that lurked outside, driven by nothing but base instinct.

The thought unsettled him.

A Night of Dread

The night dragged on.

Mia had tried calling the group multiple times, but no one answered.

Each failed attempt tightened the invisible noose around their throats, the uncertainty of what had happened gnawing at them worse than hunger ever could.

Occasional noises echoed from the distant hallways—unidentifiable rustlings, faint metallic clatters, and once, a sharp, abrupt thud that sent their nerves into overdrive.

But none of them dared to move.

No one slept soundly that night.

Not with the fear that their five classmates might never return.