Shownotes Transcript
Four years. That's how long it took Democrats to ruin our economy and plunge our southern border into anarchy. Who helped them hurt us? Ruben Gallego. Washington could have cut taxes for Arizona families, but Ruben blocked the bill. And his fellow Democrats gave a bigger break to the millionaire class in California and New York. They played favorites and cost us billions. And Ruben wasn't done yet.
We'll be right back.
Carrie and the Republicans will secure the border, support our families, and never turn their backs on us. Carrie Lake for Senate. I'm Carrie Lake, candidate for U.S. Senate, and I approve this message. Paid for by Carrie Lake for Senate and the NRSC. Church's original recipe is back. You can never go wrong with original. Still tastes the same like back in the day. Right now, get two pieces of chicken starting at only $2.99 or 10 pieces starting at only $10.99. Church's. Offer valid at participating locations.
Donovan's phone chimed as a text came in from his mother. "D, someone is outside the house. They're trying to get in." It read. It got worse. Before Donovan was able to respond, a second message appeared. "Emergency alert! Environmental hazard warning in effect! All residents are ordered to stay inside until further notice." Phones throughout the classroom chimed over and over as Donovan's classmates received the same message.
"Okay, okay, phone's away," Mr. Herman said from behind his desk in the front corner of the classroom. He stood up and showed everyone his phone. "I'm getting the same messages, so I'll make sure we are all properly informed as new alerts come in." With the windows behind him and to his side, the morning light backlit Mr. Herman, so his 6'3" frame looked even more imposing than usual. His phone was just a rectangular silhouette,
He shook that silhouette for emphasis, then sat down. "Get back to the quiz," he said. "All of you. I am sure everything will be fine. Probably an accidental sewage dump into the Townsend River. The county commissioners need to start spending some of that tax money and finally upgrade that facility. I swear, every time I drive by the plant it stinks like-" Two quick chirps erupted over the school's PA system.
Mr. Herman had just settled into his seat, but his back went ramrod straight after the chirps. "Miss Hollis," Mr. Herman said, speaking directly to Tina, the girl who sat at the desk closest to the classroom door. Tina sprang from her seat and locked the classroom door then pulled the shade down over the inset window. She hurried back to her desk and sat there, her eyes wide, her hands shaking. Donovan's hands were shaking too as he tried to text his mom back.
"What's going on?" he texted. "There's a woman outside." His mom texted. "She looks like me and she's trying to get in the house." Donovan read the text a couple of times before responding. "What do you mean she looks like you?" he texted. The three dots floated and floated. "She looks exactly like me. She's even wearing my clothes. The ones I have on right now." "Call 911." Donovan texted. This wasn't the first time his mom had a mental freakout.
Donovan's dad called the moments "her fragile state." Donovan sent three question marks when his mom didn't respond. "911 won't pick up. The line just rings." "Call dad," Donovan replied. "I'm in the middle of a quiz." Not that Donovan or anyone in the classroom cared about the stupid quiz anymore. Half the class was talking back and forth, comparing texts as they received information from outside the high school. Donovan waited, no response from his mom.
"Did you call dad?" He texted, then waited some more. Again, no response. Donovan could vaguely hear Mr. Herman giving the class instructions, but he couldn't focus on that. His phone was his world at that moment. He sent another row of question marks. Nothing. There weren't even the three wiggly dots telling him she was trying to respond. It got worse. "Mr. Benoit," Mr. Herman called out. Donovan looked up and half the class was looking at him.
as was Mr. Herman. The other half of the class had their faces buried in their phones.
Mr. Benoit and everyone else, Mr. Herman said. Please, put your phones away. My dad says people are acting strange. Missy Collins announced, holding up her phone. My big bro is saying the same thing. Daniel Otwako said. He's the assistant manager at the stop and save on Morgan Street. They are closing down and locking the doors after the manager went nuts and trashed the chip aisle. There's a fire at the gas station on Crown Boulevard. Tim Verdun said.
He leaned closer to his phone. "What the fuck? My sister just sent a picture of herself outside our front door!" "Hey!" Mr. Herman shouted. All eyes went to him. "Put the phones away! Now! We do not need rumors spreading!" "Mr. Herman, these aren't rumors!" Missy said. "My dad is saying the same thing. There's some guy outside his office that looks just like him, and more people are showing up."
She read from her phone. "Everyone outside looks like someone from the office. We're locking the doors. Please stay safe." She looked up and around. Tears filled her eyes but hadn't spilled over yet. "Okay, okay," Mr. Herman said. "I understand everyone is emotional and on edge. Lockdowns can be scary, but I assure you that there is a logical explanation for everything."
"Yeah? What's that, Mr. H?" Max Kinnaman asked. "Tell us the logical explanation." Max was the kid that sat in the back of every class. He was the kid everyone at Dorchester High School both feared and admired. No one messed with Max. But then, no one really hung out with Max either. Eyes went from Mr. Herman to Max, back and forth, until Mr. Herman said, "We'll know more soon. Principal Gordon is gathering as much information as possible.
When he understands the situation and feels it's appropriate to inform the staff, then I will pass on whatever pertinent information I can. So you don't know shit, Max said. Just say that. There were a few snickers, not many. Most of the kids were more than freaked out, Donovan included. He held up his phone. Mr. Herman, my mom texted me, but now she's not responding. Can I call her? That set off a tsunami of requests to call parents.
Most of the class held up their phones and tried to shout over each other for permission to get a hold of their families. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" Mr. Herman shouted. "Put your phones away, people! Let's see what we can learn before we all panic!" Donovan's phone chimed. "Mr. Benoit!" Mr. Herman said firmly. Donovan ignored the man and read the message. Then he read it again.
"She's in the house!" the text read. "Mr. Benoit!" Mr. Herman shouted. "I have to call my mom!" Donovan said and pressed the call button. Mr. Herman stalked down the aisle toward Donovan. "I literally just said that everyone needs to-" Mr. Herman said. But Donovan tuned him out the second his mom picked up. Donovan's mom said, "I'm locked in the bathroom! She's trying to break down the-" "Who is, Mom?" Donovan replied.
His mom shouted. "It's me!" "Mr. Benoit!" Mr. Herman said, standing next to Donovan's desk with his hands on his hips. "Give me that phone!"
Donovan held up a finger. "Mom, that doesn't make sense." Donovan replied, his finger still held up. "It must be some homeless lady that looks... Give me that!" Mr. Herman said and yanked the phone out of Donovan's hand. "Hey!" Donovan protested, but Mr. Herman was already walking off, the phone to his ear.
"Mrs. Benoit?" Mr. Herman asked into the phone. "I am sorry, but we have a lockdown situation that we are dealing with. I am sure it's nothing for you to be alarmed over as soon as..." The man stopped, then held the phone out. He studied the screen and could see that the line was still active. Then Herman put it back to his ear. It got worse. "Mrs. Benoit?"
"Are you still there?" he asked. "What's going on?" Donovan asked, jumping up from his seat. "Miss Benoit? Yes, I can barely hear you. What is that noise? Are you in any..." He stopped talking, and his entire frame went rigid. Donovan reached him and tapped him on the elbow. Mr. Herman turned around, and Donovan took two steps back, nearly tripping over his own feet. Mr. Herman's face was pale and his eyes were wide.
Then he slowly took the phone from his ear and pocketed it. "What did she say?" Donovan asked. Mr. Herman swallowed hard, then went and sat behind his desk. Donovan looked around, confused. He saw the same confusion on his classmates' faces. "What's got your panties in a wad, Mr. H?" Max asked from the back of the room. "Nothing," Mr. Herman said. He shifted his focus to Donovan.
"I'll hold onto your phone for now, Mr. Benoit. Everyone else, please put yours away, or I will confiscate them." "What did she say?" Donovan asked again. "What's going on? Sit down, please, Mr. Benoit," Mr. Herman said. Donovan did not sit down. He approached Mr. Herman's desk. That's when he got a good look at just how pale Mr. Herman had gone, and beads of sweat formed on the man's forehead.
"Give me my phone," Donovan said. "Sit down, Mr. Benoit," Mr. Herman said, but his voice was less than convincing. "Give it to me," Donovan insisted. "Now, goddammit!" A girl in the third row started crying. That set off three other students. Mr. Herman looked shell-shocked and completely at a loss as to what he should do. "Keep your voice down," Mr. Herman said to Donovan. "And do not take that tone with me, Mr. Benoit."
I'll let it go this time due to what I just... Donovan waited, but Mr. Herman did not continue. Give him his phone, Mr. H! Max called out from the back of the classroom. Sit down, Mr. Benoit. Mr. Herman said once more, ignoring Max. Now, please. No. Donovan said. Give me my phone. I need to call my mom back. Mr. Herman swallowed hard and shook his head. You should go sit down.
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$5 first deposit required. Bonus issued is non-withdrawable bonus bets which expire seven days after receipt. Restrictions apply. See terms at sportsbook.fanduel.com. Gambling problem? Call 1-800-NEXT-STEP or text NEXTSTEP to 53342. Missy Collins stood up from her desk and walked toward the windows. Miss Collins, Mr. Herman shouted. You need to sit back down. Everyone, sit down. What's Principal Gordon doing? She asked.
The whole class turned to the classroom windows that overlooked a huge common area. Standing in the middle of the commons was a man dressed in a blue suit, just like the one Donovan had seen Principal Gordon wearing that morning as he greeted the students when they arrived and walked through the front doors. But there was something wrong with the suit. "What's he got all over him?" Boyd Tustin asked.
Boyd was a linebacker on the football team, so when he stood up, everyone behind him shouted for him to sit down and stop blocking the view. He shrugged and sat his huge bulk down. "Fucking hell!" Max said. "Mr. Kinnaman!" Mr. Herman shouted. "Language! Fuck language!" Max said and stood up. He pointed out to the commons. "That's fucking blood all over his suit!" The entire class went into a panic.
Half of them got on the ground and under their desks. The other half stood up and moved closer to the windows for a better look. Donovan joined the students at the windows. "Everyone, please!" Mr. Herman cried out, but it had no effect. No one was listening to him anymore. It got worse. The students at the windows gasped and backed away almost in unison. Some had their hands to their mouths. Some had their phones up and were immediately recording.
"That's fucking weird," Max said, standing right next to Donovan. "I didn't know Gordon had a twin brother." "A what?" Mr. Herman asked, and finally joined the students at the windows. "He doesn't. Principal Gordon has a sister, and she lives in Oklahoma." "Tell him that," Max said and pointed out the window. Principal Gordon stood in the middle of the commons, his body still, his blue suit covered in dark stains.
From the east side of the Commons, a man moved slowly toward Principal Gordon. The new man looked exactly the same, except his suit wasn't stained at all. "To Gordon, see?" Max said to Mr. Herman. "Oh shit," Donovan said. "He's right. You think, Benoit?" Max responded. "That's, uh, strange," Mr. Herman said. He was no longer focused on the class.
His attention was solely on the two principal Gordons as one approached the other. "What's he saying?" Donovan asked as the approaching Gordon spoke to the one standing still. "He looks just as confused as us. Clean Gordon is our Gordon," Max said.
"What does that even mean?" Daniel asked from Donovan's other side. "Use your eyes, that wocko," Max said, pointing out the window. "One is covered in blood and standing there like a fucking zombie, and the other one is not covered in blood and is acting like Gordon should act." "He doesn't have a twin," Mr. Herman mumbled. It got worse. "Yeah, well, these fuckers do," Boyd said, holding up his phone so everyone close to him could see the video.
"This is happening at the Burger Shack. People are fighting each other. Like, fighting themselves." "Jesus Christ!" Tim said, staring at the screen. "That's Eloise Buntner! She graduated last year, and look, she's-" Those looking at Boyd's phone screamed, and all took an involuntary step back like the phone itself would attack them. "She popped her fucking head off!" Tim said, and sat down hard in the closest chair.
"Her head, she just popped it off!" "No," Mr. Herman said, shaking his head back and forth. "No, it's a TikTok prank." "Yes, TikTok, that's the problem. I think-" "Mr. Herman?" Missy said, putting her hand on his elbow since she couldn't reach his shoulder. "Why don't you sit down, Mr. Herman?" Missy steered the stunned teacher back to his desk.
"Good thing it's not an active shooter," Daniel said, watching Missy walk Mr. Herman back to his desk. "Because Herman has already checked out. We're on our own." "No shit," Max said. He laughed. Then he stopped. "Oh man, the Gordons are facing off. This should be good." Clean Gordon had reached Bloody Gordon. Clean kept a good couple of feet between them, but was actively talking to and gesturing at the other man.
The students could see Clean Gordon's mouth moving, but couldn't hear anything he was saying. "Gotta be weird to see yourself covered in blood," Max said. "What the hell do you think he's even saying?" Daniel asked. "Oh, fuck!" Donovan shouted. Bloody Gordon lunged at Clean Gordon and grabbed him around the neck with one hand. Clean Gordon shouted and swatted at Bloody Gordon as he was lifted up off his feet. Clean Gordon's face turned bright red, then dark purple, then snapped.
Suddenly, at a very wrong angle, Clean Gordon's head wobbled onto his right shoulder. The whole class screamed. They weren't the only ones. Other classrooms that looked out onto the commons could be heard screaming too as they witnessed the brutal death of their principal. Bloody Gordon kept squeezing and squeezing until the dead principal's neck was completely crushed into mush. Then with a flick and twist, the dead man's head popped off and went flying across the commons.
When it hit the ground, it rolled and rolled, lost from sight directly under the row of windows that Donovan, Max, Daniel, and the other students were staring out of. Bloody Gordon shook Gore from its hands, then slowly turned toward the classroom. He cocked his head and smiled. Before anyone could say a word, the man sprinted straight for the windows, mouth agape as an unearthly noise burst from his throat.
Students scrambled backwards, bumping into desks and overturning chairs in their mad escape away from the windows. Even Donovan, Max, and Daniel retreated as the crazy man raced toward them. Then slam! Bloody Gordon crashed into the windows at full speed. His forehead met reinforced glass and his skin split open wide. Blood poured down his face and into his still wide-open mouth.
The students clapped their hands over their ears as the unearthly noise penetrated through the glass and entered the classroom. "Fucking hell!" Max shouted over the noise, his palms firmly pressed to the sides of his head. It got worse.
Bloody Gordon began to pound his fists against the glass. In seconds, cracks appeared. His fists hit the reinforced window over and over and over, turning the pane into a shattered mess of cloudy glass and quickly bending wire. "He's getting in!" Daniel shouted, hands to his ears. Donovan looked about the classroom. Most of the students were huddled against the far wall, desperate to get as far away from the windows as possible.
A few eyes met his, but most were closed as students muttered prayers or comforting words or whatever to themselves. Donovan tore his eyes from his fellow classmates and continued to look about the classroom. Then he saw it. He ran to the paper slicer tucked on the far side of Mr. Herman's desk. Donovan barely gave his teacher a second look as he grabbed the slicer's handle, lifted and twisted. The moment he stopped covering his ears, intense pain filled his head.
He let go and stumbled back, both hands back in place instantly. "We're gonna need that!" Max yelled. Donovan turned around and couldn't believe his eyes. Bloody Gordon had shoved the broken window pane out of its frame and onto the classroom floor. Max, Daniel, and Missy just stood there, hands clamped over their ears, all looking at the crazy man struggling to crawl through the window as the broken pane lay at their feet. Max reached behind him and snagged the backrest of a chair.
He immediately cried out, but he didn't stop. He dragged the chair forward, lifted it into the air, and brought it down on the top of Bloody Gordon's head. The unearthly sound abruptly stopped as Bloody Gordon's face smashed into the top of the low bookshelves directly under the window. The crazy man paused, then gave his head a hard shake. When he looked back up, his nose and most of his teeth were shattered, adding to the blood already pouring from the man's forehead. And he smiled.
"Oh fuck!" Max said and retreated quickly. Daniel joined him but Missy was too slow. A hand shot out and grabbed her by the back of her skirt as she tried to turn and run. Bloody Gordon pulled Missy to him and his other arm reached up and wrapped around her throat. It got worse. "No!" Donovan shouted. With the unearthly noise over, Donovan returned his attention to the paper slicer. He pulled and tugged, but the blade wouldn't come loose.
Then Donovan lifted the whole thing over his head and brought it down as hard as he could against the floor. Industrial tile cracked and splintered as the heavy body of the slicer finally separated from the blade. Donovan turned back just as Missy's head popped off like a dandelion. Bloody Gordon started screaming once again, and it took all of Donovan's willpower not to drop the blade so he could cover his ears.
He ran to the window, raised the blade up over his head with both hands, and brought it down with every ounce of strength he had. Bloody Gordon's head split right down the middle. The two halves fell to either side, but were still attached by flesh and sinew. Donovan struck again, and again, and again until he hacked the two halves completely off.
Benny dropped the blade into the mess of blood and flesh around him and stumbled backward before reaching a chair he could collapse into. "Fucking hell," Max said. "Remind me not to fuck with you, Benoit." "He killed Missy," Daniel whispered. Donovan's eyes slowly moved from the headless corpse of Bloody Gordon to the headless corpse of Missy Collins. Then he turned and threw up. He wasn't the only one. A good quarter of the students pushed out of their protective pack in order to empty the contents of their stomachs.
Phones were blowing up. With the unearthly noise gone, the sound of message chimes and ringtones filled the silence. Students scrambled to pull phones from their pockets and backpacks and purses. Everyone was suddenly talking over each other as they announced what they were learning. "The National Guard is barricading roads!" "The police station is on fire!" "Smoke is coming from the hospital!" "My dad's not picking up! He's not answering!" "My mom says she killed something that looks like my baby sister!"
It got worse. "Look!" Donovan said to Max and Daniel as movement outside caught his eye. "That's Mrs. Herndon!" The 10th grade social studies teacher was running across the commons with her own doppelganger right on her ass. She didn't make it very far. The doppelganger caught her by the ponytail and pulled back so hard that the skin around Mrs. Herndon's throat split in front. The teacher clasped her hands to her throat as she fell onto her back.
Then the doppelganger leaped into the air and came down with both feet onto Mrs. Herndon's face. The sound of the woman's skull caving in echoed across the commons and into the classroom. There was a lot of screaming and even more throwing up. "My mom!" Donovan said and stood up. He raced to Mr. Herman's desk and held out his hand. "Give me my fucking phone!" Mr. Herman looked up with dazed and bloodshot eyes. "What?" he asked. "My phone! Give it to me!" Donovan shouted.
Almost robotically, Mr. Herman reached into his pocket and pulled out Donovan's phone. Donovan snatched it away from the man and dialed his mom's number. When she didn't pick up, it went to voicemail. "Mom!" Donovan shouted into the phone. "Call me back! Please! Fucking hell!" Max said.
While Donovan kept trying to call his mom, he turned back to the windows and was stunned by the horrifying sight of half the staff running outside into the commons as they were chased by their doubles. Coach Carpenter, Mrs. Thomas, the receptionist, what's her name? Miss Lipton, Big Joe the custodian, so many more. The adults were desperate to escape. None of them did.
While the kids stared in horror, the adults' heads were popped, torn, ripped, and even bitten right off their necks. Pop, tear, rip, bite. Gone. It got worse. The commons had become a bloodbath. But even as open necks still spouted blood, it looked like it wasn't enough for the doppelgangers. As one, the group of doubles turned in different directions and looked toward the classroom surrounding the commons. Then they ran straight for the windows. That unearthly noise blaring from their open mouths…
The students in Mr. Herman's class screamed, but all seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. One of their windows was already broken in. Without saying a word to each other, instead of covering their ears, the students began barricading the windows with their desks and chairs. Then they pulled the heavy cabinets and bookshelves over. They had just gotten the last piece of movable furniture in place when bodies slammed into the windows outside.
Somehow, a hand managed to reach through the broken window and squeeze through a crack between bookshelves. Donovan instinctively picked the paper slicer blade back up out of the gore and slammed the edge down on the hand's wrist. "Nope, definitely won't be fucking with you, Benoit," Max said as the bloody stump retreated back from the gap between the bookshelves. Boyd and Tim shoved the shelves together. Closing the gap, it got worse.
Something smacked against the classroom door's window. "They're inside!" Daniel said. "You think?" Max snapped. "We just watched them chase half the fucking staff out into the commons. Where the fuck did you think they came from?" "Yeah, idiot. I'd say they're inside." Max looked at the blade still in Donovan's hand. Donovan looked down at the blade and then over at the classroom door. The smacking grew louder and more insistent. So did the unearthly noise.
Tim Verdun coughed hard then fell to his knees. He had his hands over his ears, but blood started to seep from between his fingers. "Oh crap!" Boyd said just before he fell to his knees. The door window cracked, crumbled, and then was shoved out of its frame just like the other window. Bloody hands tore the shade off and tossed it to the ground. Faces peered in through the open space.
Recognizable faces. Faces that looked exactly like many of the students cowering in the corner, staying as far away as possible from the wall of windows and the classroom door. The mouths of the faces peering in opened wide, and the faces screamed that unearthly noise. Students fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Donovan stumbled against Max. The two boys held each other up and staggered to the one place left to hide, the closet behind Mr. Herman's desk.
The teacher was catatonic. He sat there in his desk chair and stared at the barricade as it shook and shuddered. The pieces of furniture began to teeter and scoot. Then a bookshelf toppled over and a head appeared. "Mr. Hermanns!" The man in the desk chair screamed. His double screamed back.
Max and Donovan shoved past Mr. Herman and yanked the closet door open. They rushed inside and slammed it closed. "Let me in!" Daniel cried from the other side. "Guys, let me in!" Neither Max nor Donovan let the other boy in. Instead, they bolted the closet door from the inside and retreated as far back into the closet as they could. "No!" Daniel screamed from outside the closet. The scream was cut short.
A second later, there was a thunk. It got worse. Blood seeped from under the door, and Donovan watched the pool get bigger and closer. He lifted himself up onto a short filing cabinet and tucked his knees up under his chin. Max did the same on a different filing cabinet. The two boys looked at each other in the dim light the edges of the closet door provided. "Good thing there's a lock," Max said. Donovan nodded. Then the boys jumped as Donovan's phone rang.
He tugged it from his pocket and nearly started crying when he saw "Dad" on the screen. "Dad!" He cried as he answered it. Donovan winced as noise filled his ear. A faint voice called. "D, can you hear me?" "Dad?" Donovan replied. "I can barely hear you." "The National Guard has the town cordoned off. I can't get home." Donovan's dad shouted over the phone. "I can't get a hold of your mom. What is going on?"
"I don't know," Donovan said. "People are killing each other, and they look just like everyone else." "He's not going to understand what you mean," Max said, knees to his chin, eyes on the blood still pooling from under the door. "Listen, Dad, if you see someone that looks like…" Donovan started to say. "Holy God!" Donovan's dad interrupted. "What is that? There's something in the sky over the town!"
The man's voice was drowned out by a combination of unearthly screams, soldiers shouting and giving orders over bull horns, and then gunfire. A huge explosion filled Donovan's ear and the phone went dead. Max's head shot up. "What was that?" Max said. "Something blew up," Donovan said. "You think?" Max replied. He shook his head. "Sorry, what did your dad say?"
"He was talking about something over the town. Then there was that explosion," Donovan said. Another far-off explosion reached their ears. The school shook, and dust rained down from the ceiling above their heads. Both boys looked up at the ceiling, then looked at each other. "Oh, fuck," Max said. Donovan's eyes went back to the ceiling, and he slid off the filing cabinet. The blade lifted to shoulder height. Max slid off his filing cabinet too, and frantically searched the closet.
"What are you looking for?" Donovan asked. "What do you think?" Max snapped. "A fucking weapon!" He opened a plastic container and found several pairs of heavy-duty scissors. "This will do," he said, and pulled out eight pairs. He carefully staggered the pair's handles on his fingers and gripped tight. "Fucking hell," Donovan said. "You look like that goth guy in that old movie. Maxwell Scissorhands," Max said, and held up his hands in front of his face.
In each hand he gripped four pairs. The handles staggered so that they overlapped, turning his hands into spiked weapons. Then he joined Donovan and stared up at the ceiling. Another explosion rocked the school, and more dust rained down. But the dust didn't stop falling after the explosion had settled. The two boys looked at each other and nodded. They knew what was up there. They waited and waited.
It got worse. The closet door was ripped off its hinges. The bolt snapped in half. Donovan and Max's attention was pulled from the ceiling into the doorless opening. Half the football team stood outside the closet. They'd shoved Mr. Herman's desk away for more room. All of them were coated in blood. A figure slipped through the mob and smiled at the two boys. It was Boyd Tustin. Or, Boyd Tustin's double. And the double was just as huge as Boyd, of course.
Fucking hell! Max said and took two steps back. Donovan didn't. He turned and squared off with the boy double. Fuck you! Donovan said. Blade held up. The boy double's smile widened. The doubles of the football team opened their mouths and screamed. Donovan cringed at the unearthly sound. Fucking kill it, Benoit! Max shouted. Do it! Before Donovan could strike, the ceiling exploded into a shower of broken mineral fibers. Max cried out.
Donovan couldn't help himself and glanced over his shoulder. Max was pulled up into the ceiling, kicking and screaming. He punched upward over and over with his scissor fists, and blood sprayed down into the closet. Then he was gone, and his screaming suddenly stopped. Max's head fell from the open ceiling and landed at Donovan's feet. Hands yanked Donovan from the closet and tossed him across the classroom. He slammed into a desk and fell into a heap. When he tried to stand up, he realized he'd lost the blade.
He also realized that the room was filled with headless corpses and bloody doppelgangers. Donovan was only able to get to one knee as the unearthly sound tried to beat him down. Warmth dripped down Donovan's left cheek and jawline. He realized he was bleeding and couldn't hear out of that ear. His eardrum must have burst. But Donovan also realized that the pain from the unearthly sound was less. A lot less.
Without hesitation, Donovan snagged a stray pencil from the floor and jammed it into his right ear. Pain exploded and he cried out as he pulled the pencil free. The unearthly sound became a whisper. Donovan stood up. The boy double crossed the room. The copies of the football players right behind him. Donovan sprinted to where the blade lay and threw himself at it. He slid in an inch of blood and gore and just managed to snag the blade as his ankles were grabbed and he was pulled to the center of the classroom.
Without even looking, Donovan whipped his arm back and the blade came to a shoulder-jarring stop. Although still a whisper, Donovan could hear the unearthly screams intensify. He was lifted off the ground and spun around, his face coming nose to nose with Void's double, the paper slicer's blade embedded in its rib cage. Donovan knew what was going to come next. He'd watched it happen to his classmates. He'd feared it had happened to his mother, possibly his father.
Donovan refused to let it happen to him. He pulled the blade free just as the boy double's other hand closed around his neck. The pressure was intense and Donovan's airflow was instantly restricted. With black motes swimming across his vision, Donovan lifted the blade up and then hacked and hacked and hacked with what strength he had left. He fell to the ground hard and he would have been knocked unconscious if the thick carpet of gore hadn't lessened the impact.
The boy double stood over him, one arm missing, as well as most of his face. The football doubles pounced, but Donovan wriggled his way out of their clutches. He was coated in so much gore that the doubles couldn't get a solid grip on him. With no other option available, Donovan slashed with the blade again and again, then slipped and slid his way to the wall of broken windows. He threw himself outside into the commons and rolled for several feet before getting back up and limping toward the east hallway.
Navigating the corpses and body parts that blanketed the commons was not easy. Donovan could hardly take a step without risking being tripped up by severed heads and limbs. He finally reached the far side of the commons and pulled open the hallway door. Inside was nothing but a sea of blood and awful that came nearly up over his ankles. Donovan waded in and waded through, doing more slipping than walking. When he reached the front office, Donovan risked looking back over his shoulder.
The football doubles stood at the doors to the outside commons, watching him. "Fuck you!" he shouted. And even in his own head, the words sounded like he was screaming through thick cotton. The football doubles didn't move an inch. Donovan wasn't about to waste the opportunity. He fled past the office and out the school's front entrance. Blade held out like it could ward off the devil himself. The scene outside was nothing short of pure chaos. Crashed cars filled the parking lot, as well as the street out front.
Parents were either running for their lives, screaming for their children, or fighting versions of themselves. A few students had made it out of the school like Donovan had, but they were quickly overpowered by either their own doubles or doubles of their parents, or just random doppelgangers who were happy to pop the heads off anyone they could capture. Donovan turned and ran.
He sprinted around the crashed cars. He dodged and avoided doubles that jumped out at him from behind crumpled fenders and stacks of dead bodies. He raced past a woman punching her double in the face over and over. He skirted a mob of doubles that had a hold of Coach Wilson's arms and legs and were pulling in opposite directions. Donovan ran and ran. When he was finally several blocks from the school, he slipped into an alleyway between a hardware store and a hair salon.
Explosions and gunfire filled the air from the town limits, intense enough that even Donovan could hear them. The boy stood there in the shadows of the alley, his body waving back and forth, and he just stared out into the street. More crashed cars, more dead bodies, but luckily, no doubles in sight. Donovan took a deep breath and knew what he had to do. He needed to get home. But before he could leave the alley, a black sedan screeched to a halt, blocking his way.
The driver's side window rolled down and Donovan's dad began shouting at him. Donovan hesitated. He hadn't seen any of the doubles drive cars, but then he'd been trapped in a classroom all morning, so he had no idea what the things were capable of. When Donovan didn't move, his dad opened his car door and stepped out into the mouth of the alleyway. He gestured wildly for Donovan to come to him, but before he could take a step, he was tackled to the ground. That got Donovan moving.
He sprinted to the rolling, fighting forms on the ground and raised the blade over his head, then paused. He had no idea which was which. One was real, and the other was a double, but they were so intertwined in their fighting that Donovan couldn't tell the difference. Before he could act, a massive shadow overtook the street. Donovan looked up and gasped. He didn't know what he was looking at. Whatever it was, it was covered in lights and spires and spikes and flaming quartz.
The unearthly screams the doubles made started to make sense to Donovan, or as much sense as anything could make. A hand grabbed Donovan by the shoulder and whirled him around. The blade was knocked from his grip. Donovan could only stand there, stunned. As he stared into his own face, it got worse.
