Chapter 21: Arrival at Lexington Academy
The car’s engine hummed steadily as we wound through the abandoned streets, following Rachel’s careful directions. Forty minutes had passed since we’d left the relative safety of our temporary shelter. Nobody spoke much during the drive—each of us lost in our own thoughts about what we might find at Lexington Academy.
When we finally crested the hill overlooking the school, I couldn’t help but let out a low whistle.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, pressing my face against the window.
Lexington Academy sprawled before us like something out of a fairy tale—if fairy tales included zombie apocalypses. The massive stone buildings rose from manicured grounds, their Gothic architecture complete with soaring spires, ornate gargoyles, and stained glass windows that caught the afternoon light. Ivy crawled up the walls of the older buildings, while newer additions gleamed with modern glass and steel. The whole complex was surrounded by wrought iron fencing that looked more decorative than defensive.
"It’s more like a castle than a high school," I said, still staring in awe.
I’d seen pictures of elite prep schools before, but seeing Lexington in person was something else entirely. The main building alone probably cost more than most people’s houses. Hell, it probably cost more than most people’s entire neighborhoods. This was where the children of senators, tech billionaires, and Hollywood royalty came to get their education—a world so far removed from my public school experience that it might as well have been on another planet.
"Welcome to how the other half lives," Sydney said dryly, though I caught her glancing at the impressive architecture with something that might have been envy.
But our awe was short-lived. As we drew closer, the true horror of our situation became clear.
The infected were everywhere.
They stumbled across the pristine lawns, their designer uniforms torn and bloodstained. Some pressed against the windows of the main building, their faces smeared against the glass as they searched for prey inside. Others wandered aimlessly through the courtyard, their movements jerky and unnatural. Through the ornate iron gates, we could see more of them moving through the corridors, dark shapes shuffling past the windows.
The silence in the van was deafening.
Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth, and I saw her shoulders begin to shake. Beside her, Rebecca had gone completely pale, her eyes fixed on the scene before us with a mixture of horror and recognition. These weren’t just random infected—these had been her classmates, her teachers, people she’d sat next to in class just days ago.