Michael was staring out the window when it happened.
The class he was currently in, Calculus Basics, was boring. The teacher always went over every topic more than a dozen times, using examples and memory hooks to make sure that everyone understood.
Unfortunately for Michael, he was smart. That meant that he understood the concept far faster than anyone else. He had finished the homework a few minutes ago, and now was bored out of his mind.
He glanced surreptitiously at the back corner. Luke was there, half-asleep, as always.
It wasn't that he was a bad student. In fact, he was a good student. But that was exactly the problem.
Like Michael himself, the class was too simple for him. The problem was, as freshmen, they could only enter a certain level of math class, never mind that Luke was proven to be smarter than most of the seniors.
There was probably some reason, but Michael didn't see it. Besides, it was most likely a political thing. Seeing as how they were attending the most advanced academy in the world, it wasn't difficult to assume that the administrators of the facility were constantly under pressure from every corporation and reformist party there was.
Michael absently turned his head back towards the window. There wasn't much out there, but anything was better than just looking at the professor. Even he was bored by this class, Michael could tell. Every time Luke disparaged him, Michael felt a bit uncomfortable, because he knew that he felt the exact same way as they did. Most people didn't have Michael's eye for... well, people.
It wasn't easy, but he saw more-
His thoughts cut off as shocks spasmed his body. The figure he had been watching shuffle by out the window wasn't just an elderly person who was trying to keep up their health. It was Professor Ivan.
Professor Ivan was only thirty-six.
"Michael, try not to fall asleep in my class," Professor Langston said. "It is acceptable to be tired, but it is unacceptable to disrupt class by doing it."
"Um, professor?" Michael asked, staring out the window.
No, the figure out the door was not Professor Ivan. At least, not anymore. The left arm was drooping out of place, clearly a dislocated shoulder, probably from being wrenched downwards by something. His right pant leg was soaked in a dark red, and the face was scratched by something in a vicious claw-like pattern, as though some big cat with dull claws had ripped off most of his flesh. Michael had only been able to recognize him because of his signature blue-striped shirt and long tan-grey pants, curled up at the bottom.
Michael knew what this was. Every fiber of his being vibrated with excitement and horror. He had played games with images like this for a large majority of his life. Blood everywhere, limbs and flesh torn, limp, and out of place.
It was a zombie.
Zombie.
The word didn't belong to this world.
It was a fantasy word. No one bothered giving it any weight, because it held none. At least, it wasn't supposed to. Because there was no way that it could be real. It was like magic missile, or elves, or dragons.
Impossible.
Yet here it was, right in front of him.
Michael briefly wondered if he was an NPC in some sort of horror game, but then he shook his head.
This was real, and this was right in front of him. Real life. No respawns.
"What is it, Michael?"
The professor's tired voice cut into Michael's thoughts.
He couldn't speak. His lungs tightened up and his heart pounded.
All he could do was raise his hand and point.
And that was enough.
Professor Langston's eyes instantly sharpened, and he straightened.
"Class dismissed," he said immediately, then moved over to the door.
Unfortunately, it was too late.
As a creature from straight out of a horror show lurched out of the hallway and grabbed Professor Langston, biting into his extended arm, there was a peace-shattering scream.
A strong hand grabbed the back of his shirt as the beast stumbled into the room, and Michael scrabbled for purchase as he was hauled backwards.
There was no one else who even knew how to deal with it. They would all be useless.
The entire class was transformed before Michael's eyes, and he barely held back a scream.
The entire class except for one person.
Michael turned around, and Luke stood there, his hand still bunched in the back of Michael's shirt.
It was the first time Michael had seen him with focused eyes.