His monotonous voice dulled me, as well as most of my peers. The chalk scraping across the board bored into my head, and resonated against my teeth. My ears wandered around the room coming to rest back on the teacher. He was facing me now, advancing, his chalk having become a detonator of some sort.

            I sprung up onto my feet, reaching for my trusty AK-47. I released a few bursts onto his chest, just like they had taught me in the military. The look of surprise on his face was priceless as his body arched back across his desk. In what I thought would be his final moments, he squeezed the trigger.

            The world around me exploded, shrapnel instantly scarring my body. I came to my senses quickly, as only an ex-marine would. A quick damage assessment showed the explosion came from my right and had ripped a hole through the side of the classroom. The teacher was on his feet now, holding my AK. He grinned through bloody teeth and was still bleeding from the array of gunshot wounds, most of which should have been fatal.

            Confused I fumbled my way away from the danger and hid behind a pile of rubble that used to be a wall. I unholstered my glock and unsheathed my combat knife. My training from Vietnam flooded back to me and I smiled wryly as I knew what do. Springing up from cover, I threw my combat knife at my fleshy target. It hit the zombie-teacher squarely in the eye, just as I had planned.

            As he was reeling I aimed, and fired off three rounds, two to the forehead and one hitting the knife, twisting it to reveal skull and brain matter. The beast howled in pain and rage firing off a dozen shots at a time from his stolen weapon. The bullets ricocheted around the now poor excuse of a classroom. Unscathed due to ducking to my trusty cover I racked my brains for what to do.

            The monster had gained his senses by this time, or whatever sense it ever had, and ran towards my cover. On the spur of the moment I decided I would meet him halfway and charged at him. Predictably, he raised the AK-47 to gun me down but I was too quick. Grabbing his arm to change the direction of his shot, I forced him, and myself, out of the gaping hole of the classroom. Four floors seemed an age to fall. Our eyes locked and we fought both mentally and physically.

            The ground hit me hard, pain searing through my back and head. I howled in agony. The fiend loomed over my broken figure.

“James,” it said, in the voice of my maths teacher. “James.” My name rang through my ears.

“JAMES!” the teacher yelled. I was back in the classroom though carnage still rang through my head. Quickly, I scanned the blackboard.

“X is 6,” I stated confidently. The teacher sighed.

“I only asked you to open the window.”