The cold air in the dormitory room was thick with unease. The four girls—Katharina, Monika, Henriette, and Seraphina—huddled together, their eyes darting nervously to the door as the sound of scraping fingers on wood faded. Their bodies ached from the physical and emotional toll, and the silence around them only seemed to intensify the weight of their situation.
Katharina's hand was still gripping the metal rod, her knuckles white. Monika clung to her side, her tear-streaked face buried in her sister's shoulder. Henriette stood near the window, eyes scanning the yard below, restless. Seraphina, on the other hand, had retreated to a corner, staring at the floor, her mind lost in the heavy thoughts of what they'd just done.
Then they heard it.
A soft thud followed by another—so quiet it almost sounded like a dream.
Seraphina's head jerked up.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.
The sound repeated itself. A soft shuffle, like someone stepping carefully on the carpet, muffled by distance.
Katharina motioned for the others to stay low and quiet. They knew the zombies could hear any noise, and they'd been lucky enough so far not to attract any more.
But these sounds—these weren't the footsteps of the infected. They were too deliberate. Too controlled.
Henriette narrowed her eyes. "Whoever that is, they're not undead."
Katharina nodded, glancing at Monika. "Stay close."
Seraphina quickly grabbed one of the chairs and propped it against the door, just in case. The last thing they needed was another fight.
Another thud, closer this time. Then a voice, soft but unmistakable.
"Hello? Is anyone in there?"
The voice was… uncertain, shaky, but alive. Real.
Katharina exhaled sharply and moved towards the door. The others followed, tense but eager for any sign of life.
She opened the door slowly, just enough to peek outside.
At the far end of the hall, near the last dormitory, two figures emerged from the shadows.
One was a girl with short, messy brown hair, dressed in a simple blouse and dark pants. She was holding a half-closed suitcase, her eyes wide and fearful but determined. This was Jocelyn Weiss—a student from a more normal background, her expression filled with raw, undeniable fear.
The other was tall and striking. Elvira von Silberberg stood a few steps behind, her aristocratic features sharp even in the dim light. She wasn't dressed like most of the girls here; her clothes were more elegant, an air of untouchable nobility hanging about her like a cloak. Her eyes were piercing, though, and the way she carried herself—calm, controlled—told a different story. She didn't appear shaken. In fact, her presence felt oddly unsettling.
She wasn't scared. But then, she probably had more reason to be.
Jocelyn's eyes locked onto Katharina's as the door opened further. "You—you're alive?" Her voice was a mixture of relief and disbelief.
Elvira didn't speak at first. Instead, she scanned the room, her sharp gaze resting on each of the girls in turn. Her expression was unreadable. Then, she stepped forward, her eyes still sharp as knives. "We heard… noise. Fighting."
"Yeah. We had to deal with them," Henriette said, her voice low but steady. "The zombies."
Jocelyn flinched at the word, her grip on the suitcase tightening. "I thought— I thought we were the only ones left. Everyone else… they're gone. Everyone's gone."
Elvira folded her arms, her gaze flicking to the barricaded door. "Seems they've found their way into this building as well."
"We didn't know anyone else was still here," Seraphina added quietly. She had stopped crying, but her voice still wavered with fear.
Jocelyn let out a breath, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion. She shuffled into the room, glancing over her shoulder as if she half-expected to see something following her. Elvira remained by the door, her eyes still alert, scanning every shadow.
"I thought…" Jocelyn started again, her words unsteady. "I thought we were all gonna die in there. It's just... it's hard to believe anyone else could be alive."
Elvira's gaze softened just slightly—only enough to show the faintest hint of understanding. "It's a miracle, I suppose, that any of us are alive."
"We need to stick together," Katharina said, stepping forward. She tried to push aside her own doubts, focusing instead on the girls standing before her. They needed allies. They needed help. "You're welcome to stay with us. We've been planning to find a way out of here, but we have no idea where to go next."
Jocelyn nodded, swallowing hard. "Anywhere but here, honestly."
Elvira glanced around, her expression unreadable. "Wherever we go, we need supplies. We need food, weapons. We're sitting ducks if we don't prepare properly."
Henriette looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Weapons? You planning on fighting?"
Elvira's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I don't fight because I have to. I fight because I can."
Katharina's eyes narrowed. There was something about Elvira that unsettled her. It wasn't just her calm demeanor—it was her presence. She felt different from the rest of them. But, for now, they needed whatever help they could get.
Jocelyn swallowed again, her hands trembling slightly as she set the suitcase down. "We don't have any weapons," she said, voice breaking. "Only what we could grab before we left."
"Better than nothing," Henriette muttered, glancing at the window once more. "We'll make it work."
They stood in the silence of the dorm, uncertainty hanging in the air. No one spoke for a moment, the weight of their situation settling in.
But in the end, they were together. Alive. And that had to mean something.
"Let's get moving," Katharina said finally. "We can't stay here much longer."
Jocelyn and Elvira exchanged a glance. Then, wordlessly, they nodded.
And together—survivors, for now—they prepared to face the horrors lurking just outside their door.