"Okay, here's the plan," I began, "Luke, you open the door on my count to three. I will enter first, and Logan will follow behind. Yousef, have that fire extinguisher ready. It'll stun them for a little while, giving us enough time to take them out. Luke, you'll be the last. Keep the door open behind us in case we need to retreat. Then, we take out what's inside if even those things are in there. Got it?"

"If we get back here, won't we get trapped?" Luke asked.

"Well, let's hope our luck won't fail."

"It hasn't turned on us," Logan added.

"Yet." Yousef finished with a grumble.

"It'll be so depressing if we die this way," Logan said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "God, not you, too."

"Can't help it, Bren. I haven't gotten laid in weeks."

The rest of us stared at him like a hawk. He stared back at us and shrugged. He frowned, said, "Come to think of it, I might not be getting laid anytime soon now that I'm planning on breaking up with her. Although, break-up sex wouldn't hurt..."

I smacked him on the back of the head. "Is this conversation really necessary? Put your game faces on. We're about to face possibly a dozen of them in there."

Logan sneered at me. "Let a man dream for a second before he bites it, jeez."

"Then, don't break up with her. There. Problem solved. You get laid after."

Logan looked at me, shocked. "Are you really telling me not to break up with Nat?"

"So?"

"You hate her. Ever since sixth grade when she put that ice-cold punch down your pants..."

"So that you can stop your whining about your little friend down there. Now, how about you concern yourself back to the real situation, which is how to fucking get out of here. Hm?"

"Careful. I'm holding a gun."

"So do I, and you aim like shit. What's your point?"

Logan gripped his rifle tighter and nodded, dropping it finally. Yousef readied his canister, aiming the nozzle toward the door. Luke raised his ax, playing with the weight as he took a step back, ready to engage once the door opened. I aimed my weapon at the door, taking my position at the front while Luke moved toward the doorknob. I made a single nod at him. Luke opened the door.

Swiftly, I moved in, finger at the ready, and Logan did the same. Darkness greeted us once we entered. Every corner was covered in pitch black, and I couldn't vouch how far the theater extended. The emergency lights within the hall were disabled; our flashlights were the only source of light. Yousef followed after, aiming the fire extinguisher as he took the space between Logan and me. He fired a short burst into nothingness, but when he realized there was no one there, he let go of the handle. Luke trailed last and stood beside me, ready to hack his way out.

The room lay empty. We waited for a few seconds longer, expecting a couple or so to pop out and attack us. I took a tentative step forward. Logan glanced at me hesitantly, but when nothing happened, he took one, too.

"Eyes sharp," I told them.

"I'll take the back," Logan said.

We formed into a single line with me at the forefront. Luke followed my trail with Yousef behind him. We approached the red theatrical heavy curtains hanging from the side, blocking our view of the main stage. Various props and sets were set aside, all in the Victorian era, with a dozen or so costumes placed in a rack closer to the stage. On the walls, flyers for the spring school play advertised it at the end of April.

We paused behind a curtain. I looked at the others, and they nodded back at me. I stepped out onto the stage. The stage wasn't empty.

More set pieces littered the stage—some halfway done while others remained in disarray. Large posters and banners advertising the school play left undone on the stage floor, and a couple of cans of paint got knocked off, spilling their contents right on top of the banners. At the front of the stage was a clump of school bags in varied colors and sizes left untouched. Half-eaten food on paper plates lay on the floor, and at the middle was a single-end table with at least five boxes of pizza stacked on top of each other; The top part had a single slice left. It was as if people left in a hurry. And I knew why.

There were two dead bodies—a young man and a woman—at the foot of a living room set at the far right of the stage. Both their jaws were ripped wide open, exposing their tongues and upper teeth. The young man wore a standard suit you'd see in the 1900's complete with one-eyed spectacles, a fake mustache under his nose, and a pocket watch peeking out of his tailored brown and yellow tweed suit. The woman, however, was only in a white nightgown. They were theater kids stuck in Saturday rehearsals.

Unlucky for them.

"There's more," Logan whispered. He aimed the rifle's flashlight along the two aisles splitting the audience section.

Dozens of bodies littered the floor, arms were torn off, bellies ripped open, and some with their head missing. One man had an ax caved on his head. Blood and guts were all over the seats and walls. What surprised me was the lack of smell. With these many dead, it should've assaulted our nostrils the moment we stepped out of the door. And I realized why. These bodies were fresh, maybe dead less than three hours ago.

I approached the woman who was closest to me and gently kicked her heels. I aimed my shotgun right on her head, but she didn't move. "I don't think they're coming back. They're legit dead."

A stack of food was at the opposite side of the stage we entered. I walked over to them and checked them out.

"They must've taken this from the cafeteria. It looks like they were hiding here," I said. "That big vector must've come from here."

"And ripped them apart, it looks like," Luke finished.

"They're kids. I can't begin to imagine..." Yousef trailed off.

I knew what he meant, and I frowned. Most of the dead were closer to my age.

It could've been me.

I unzipped my bag as I picked up the canned goods. "Alright, let's salvage what we can with the food into our bags, and—"

Suddenly, Logan had his hands around my mouth, and he pushed me to the side until my back hit the curtains, and we were behind them. With his other hand, he blocked the flashlight's light and pressed the off button. He did the same to his.

"What are you—"

Logan held a finger up to his lips. Fear brimming in his wide eyes.

I glanced back and saw Luke and Yousef rushing toward the living room set. It was too dark to see their expression, but I recognized their silhouette and how their bodies hunched over with terror as they hid behind a couch.

Logan brought his lips up to my ear and whispered, "Sound stage windows, above the audience."

I nodded. Cautiously, I peeked from the curtain and looked up. An exit neon sign dimly illuminated the sound room, revealing a shadow standing with its back against us through the windowpane.

A small shadow.

A child.

The vector ambled mindlessly around the room. Sometimes, I lost track of his silhouette as it veered into the shadows, but it would walk back to the same spot over and over.

"What's it doing?" I asked out loud.

"I don't know. It looks like it's waiting for something," Logan said.

I glanced down into the pitch darkness below the sound stage room where the entrance doors into the theater would be. "Our exit is that way."

Logan hesitated, watching the shadow lingered above. "We can't use our flashlights. So, we stick to the wall, follow it to the door with our backs against it, and keep one eye upward. Sound good to you?"

"It's a good plan as any."

"Right. I'll let the others know. Wait here."

Logan crouched down and slowly moved toward Luke and Yousef. He would pause every time the vector would twitch or move, and I would hold my breath, thinking it would spot him. I heard their faint whispers through the dark. They were too far out to make out what Luke and Yousef thought of the plan, but then their hushed talk dropped, and Logan came to full view once again, back to me. He pointed at something just beyond my right side. I looked over and saw the stairs leading to the audience section, realizing what he meant.

With my shotgun raised, I moved toward the stairs. The surface was made of concrete, so I didn't have to worry about our creaky steps. We hurriedly pressed our backs against the wall, glancing once in a while to the window above. The vector remained oblivious.

"I'll take point. Put your hands on my shoulder," Logan said.

With Logan's hands pressed against the wall and a rifle raised with the other, he followed the length of it. The hall extended farther than I realized. We walked slowly, watching our every step. Logan halted abruptly, and I banged my head against his hardened back; a dull pain spread across the bridge of my nose. Yousef gasped. I whirled around to face him, and his eyes widened, chest heaving as he stared upward, and I followed his gaze.

The shadow in the room was gone.

I stood, frozen. The darkness converged around us, constricting every muscle and raised all my hairs that I was helpless but tremble. It was as if the silence was a low rumble against my ears, drowning my senses into overdrive as I frantically searched where the vector could've gone.

The sound of a door opening and slamming echoed across the theater, but I didn't know where. It was hard to point it out when the entire hall was basically a big echo chamber.

I remained against the wall, gripping tightly onto my shotgun. This was a kid we're facing. I've never encountered an infected child before face-to-face. And infected children weren't like the others...

Suddenly, a finger tapped my shoulder. Logan pointing forward. I wanted to. My brain tried to order my legs to move, but they firmly stayed rooted on the ground. I shook my head to Logan. The kid could be waiting outside.

Logan, sighing as he pursed his lips, extended his hand out, and grabbed my arm.

Something wet landed on his wrist. It was still dark to see clearly, but there was a black spot that landed on his forearm once I looked close enough as my eyes continued to adjust in the darkness.

Then another.

Then three more black drops.

Logan pulled his hand back in disgust and wiped those things off of him, although he only made it worse as the thick, coagulated substance smeared all over his skin.

To my horror, I realized what it was.

Blood.

I looked up. Of all the stupid things that I could've done, I made the mistake of looking up instead of running for the door. Without thinking, I pointed my shotgun upward and turned on the flashlight.

The face of a bloodied child sat perched on the railings of the catwalk, sneering right at us.

And before I could move, it vaulted off the railings toward me.