Theresa kicked the door open with a fierce, sharp crack and stepped onto the rooftop where she had spotted movement moments ago. But the space was deserted. There was not a soul in sight. Her eyes scanned every corner, sharp and restless. Suddenly, the low rumble of her Zombie Reaper echoed from below. She rushed to the edge and spotted a few teenagers gathered near her vehicle. Two boys swung stools wildly, smashing metal and glass with savage energy. "Hey! Cut it out!" Theresa yelled, voice sharp and commanding. The teens glanced up briefly, then dove right back into destruction. A girl raised a ragged cloth with words scrawled boldly across it: "Get lost now or we'll turn your ride into junk!" Theresa's blood boiled, heat flaring through her veins. Perfect. They were looking for a fight. Grabbing Quentin's arm, she spun around, ready to hunt down these troublemakers. Then, the school bell rang sharply, slicing through the tense air like a blade. The kids froze, their faces paling like they'd heard a ghost. Stools dropped with a clatter. They bolted toward the school building behind them, feet pounding the pavement. Theresa's eyes darted around, watching as zombies stirred in every nearby building, drawn like ants to spilled honey. They converged relentlessly on the school. The swarm poured in from every side, a tidal wave of decay and hunger. A powerful tremor rippled through the horde. "There's a zombie king close, Beautiful," Quentin said, eyes narrow and alert. "Level 4 or above." Theresa stared down at the massive throng swirling below like birds circling prey, her gaze snapping upward toward the invisible presence controlling them. She'd never sensed anything like this before. Level 4 zombie. So, this was what that meant. Her heart hammered with fierce excitement. She reached out with her mind, searching for the zombie king's position — Then the pulse vanished, like a candle snuffed out. Gone? she thought. She blinked, confused, and looked down again. The low-level zombies still clung to the school's perimeter, unmoving and waiting. Her brow furrowed in suspicion. "We need to check it out." Theresa grabbed Quentin's hand and headed down the stairwell without hesitation. Taking Quentin along was a smart move.In moments like these, with danger thick in the air, Theresa often thought about pulling back. But with Quentin beside her, she felt no fear at all. Neither one of them flinched at the undead. They just had to stay sharp and focused. Theresa unleashed her senses as they moved down the fifth-floor corridor. Her mind swept through the classrooms, each filled with lingering presence. Every room held zombies. Her frown deepened, and she squeezed Quentin's hand tighter. At the window of the first classroom, the sight hit her like a punch. The room was packed to the brim. Rows of students sat rigidly in their neat uniforms. Every single head turned in unison toward Theresa, revealing hollow, rotted faces. It was a whole classroom of zombie kids. At her gaze, they erupted in a chaotic frenzy. They surged toward the back door, pounding on it with savage, desperate force. The old wooden door shuddered violently, as if it might shatter at any moment. Dust cascaded down like dead leaves in a dry autumn storm. Faded yellow paint cracked and flaked, shedding years of neglect. Theresa caught every detail, every small sign. Something was definitely wrong.That door had to be locked tight. It swung outward, so it couldn't be locked from the inside. Her eyes fixed on the lock. Under Quentin's watchful gaze, she pressed down hard on the handle. "Beautiful, I'll—" Before Quentin could finish, a solid click echoed. Theresa's test was over. She met firm resistance. The door was locked. She had been right all along. Locked tight. Looking at the desperate zombie students trapped behind the wooden barrier, Theresa turned sharply and strode purposefully toward the front entrance.