Looking out the windows of the hallway, the situation is dire. Four hundred or so children are fighting a horde of four hundred undead. While the numbers are equal now, time is on the side of the dead. With each second, the kids tire while the numbers of the undead are bolstered by the fallen. A few zombies and skeletons patrolled the hallway I was in for new victims but their senses are barely functional so I go unnoticed. Unless I am just a few meters in front of them, they would not recognize me. I activated my “sneak” skill for good measure however.

  Slowly approaching one zombie, I waited for it to turn around before backstabbing it with my dagger. Fool. It let out a deathly scream as it fell to a critical hit alerting the rest of the undead of my existence. I regret calling it a fool now. The only silver lining of this situation is that I finally leveled up, but that is cold comfort for someone who is about to be ganged up on by a bunch of undead. It seemed that I finally had to use my secret technique developed by ancestors since the start of humanity. Only this technique would allow me to survive this situation. I posture myself in preparation of this sacred inheritance. I can only hope that I can successfully execute it.

  I glared at the undead as they readied their weapons. It is all or nothing. I swiftly turned around and started running. Fuck that shit! I am booking it! Seemingly taken off guard by my legendary technique, they simply stood there in shock before chasing after me clacking their teeth in fury. You will never catch me, you halloween decorations! I went into thinking about a better insult but I set those thoughts to the side to focus on the life and death situation unfolding right now.

  Ever so slowly gaining on me, the undead look as if they want to rip me apart. I have to do something. I get to a door in the hallway and suddenly stop. The bag of bones at the front of the charge looked confused but realized my plan as I swung open the door right in front of its face and used my arms to brace the door for impact. The unfortunate skeleton could not react in time and a crack appeared across its skull upon meeting the door. My arms felt like jelly after resisting the force on the door. Two of its fleshy comrades fell over it as it was sprawled across the ground in a daze. With the front of their charge blunted to an extent, I go back to sprinting.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The formerly angry horde has now turned so blindingly enraged that they were being stopped by a seemingly seven year old kid that I can almost feel the heat radiating from them. Sorry, but I want to live. Why should I care about your hurt pride?

  With an idea in mind, I stop aimlessly fleeing and select a specific place in mind, the infirmary. There should be something there that could get me out of this, holy water. It is typically used for healing and coating weapons in preparation to fight against the undead. I doubt any of the children has managed to get there. The priest in charge of the infirmary should be there along with many injured soldiers. If I can get their help and secure a lot of holy water, this should be a win.

  Losing my stalkers by taking many turns around the halls of the children’s wing, I finally arrive at the infirmary. Contrary to the sounds of talking and clatter, it is muted by any noise. Carefully nudging open the door, I see no one, not even a recovering soldier. The untidy beds show signs of use but nothing. Maybe they were already fighting. That has to be it, right? But then why did I not see any adults outside fighting alongside the children? Were we abandoned? I do not get it.

  The cabinet of the holy water bottle looked to have been untouched by anyone. Only a few bottles were missing which is both fortunate for me but worrying as well. Grabbing as many bottles as I can and putting them in a box, I shamble outside the door barely keeping hold of it from the weight. I need to get these outside.