Jamie grumbled as faint screams broke her sleep that Jan. 26. God damn drunk college girls, she swore as she crawled out of bed. Stepping over her chemistry book, a blanket, and various other things that had been discarded uncerimoniously on the floor, she reached the window and tiredly pulled back the blinds.
Blinking, she saw the Apocalypse. The four riders stood on the top of Costello Sports Complex looking down at the carnage. Many of her fellow classmates now walked inanimately, scruffling forward, falling on their victims (or once be friends), and beginning to rip flesh off them, eating as if Aramark food had really been that bad. Half devoured bodies lay broken in the streets, bits of flesh and blood spalttered all over the Philippi Hall sidewalk and on. People ran screaming up the snowy hill hoping to reach the Bailey building and boarding the bus before the thousands of undead feasted upon their entrails, but of course, the bus was late. Fourty-five to be exact, and the bailey sanctuary’s doors wouldn’t hold up long. Outside her room was a faint knocking… but not the knocking of a conscious friend.
Grabbing her cell phone, she quickly dialed the school cancellation number, praying that even though we could get 20 inches of snow without school canceling, just maybe an apocalypse would get school canceled. This is what she heard.
“Today, Wednesday, January 26, at the university of southern maine, all classes, events, and activites are on as scheduled” the blood drained from her face as she listened to the humor in the recordings voice. “All university offices are open.”