AN: I have returned! And I have changed my account's username again because people kept bugging me about how weird the last one sounded, and it did sound weird, so now it's gone! Anyway, I would like to apologize for the weeks that went by. After my trip to the hospital, I had to catch up with school and a couple of other things. And also, I needed to concentrate on exams, which are now over and done with! Hooray! So, I'm going to try my best to get these chapters rolling again! I'm also shocked at the amount of favorites and follows this story received, and it touched my heart that people are enjoying the story and are not worried that I may one day decide to massacre the entire classroom with the snap of a finger...but that might not happen...but it could since this is a zombie apocalypse AU. Anyway, the long wait has ended, so I hope you're all set and ready to dive back into some AssClass zombie fun! Might be some grammar errors.

Chapter 3...

Written By: DoubleBarreledShotgun

"Why do you think the old stories tell of men who set out on great journeys to impress the gods? Because trying to impress people just isn't worth the time and effort."

- Henry Rollins

Hours later...

The small group of zombies dragged their tainted bodies across the floor, leaving a disturbing trail of both blood and intestines spilling out. Some were still unimpaired, but their shredded knees and bullet-riddled legs spoke otherwise. The bastards continued pulling themselves as though they were chained to a heavy iron ball. Ryoma Terasaka's stomach was churning like a machine agitating milk and cream in order to produce butter. Seeing the crimson path formed made the zombies look like massive disfigured snails without a shell protecting their backs. A situation where your pushed into a corner, running low on ammunition and having to prevent a horde of undead from tearing you asunder was conventional. However, shooting an undead that can't walk made aiming for the heads much easier.

The sound of door bursting open behind him nearly caused Terasaka to jump straight into the zombies' clutches.

His two friends, Takuya Muramatsu and Taisei Yoshida, were finished with knocking down the stupid thing that isolated them from escaping. Without any verbal responses the four dashed down the hallway and bolted for the staircase as they avoided the limping zombies that came out from the rooms looking for a snack. They could hear the moans and growls fading as they entered the third floor. A trip to the hospital to collect medical supplies was merely a recipe for disaster. Undead doctors, nurses, surgeons, and patients swarmed the building like bees swarming their hive, but they weren't intimidated by numbers. They were working as a solid team together: coordinated, communicating, and efficient. Two months is all it took for them to overcome their initial horror and disbelief. They were each assigned a specific job suitable for their individual talents: plan, defend, or gather. All this training they had received to kill a octopus creature that became their teacher was being utilized appropriately.

Thud, thud, thud.

Someone, or something, was bumping against the inside of a sealed surgical room repeatedly like there was no tomorrow. The sound echoed around the empty halls that they cleared out: all those creatures rhythmically throwing themselves into the doors. Terasaka decided to call out to see if anyone was still alive, but they only heard the thumping grow faster and frantic. The hallway was littered with abandoned clipboards and paperwork. A few stretchers carried mangled and decomposed corpses, some wearing oxygen masks. The lights illuminating their route were beginning to flicker which gave a creepy and ominous ambiance. They passed the nursery where the babies were kept, and could hear the snarls of newborn zombies tossing a storm in their bassinets. Dread powdered their emotions. Infants don't deserve such terrible fates like this. Reaching the hallway's end, they found a security guard sprawled across on his stomach drowning in a pool of blood. Chunks of flesh had been torn off his face and his torso.

"I'll go," Terasaka said reloading his pistol with a click. He stepped past the others and slowly approached the corpse, carbine trained directly on its occiput. The dead man's eyes fluttered open and he coughed violently, blood sliding down his chin.

"He's alive," Muramatsu cried before Terasaka accidently pulled the trigger. "He's still alive!"

"Terasaka, don't delay our time." Hazama abruptly said. "Do it."

"Right..." he said, as his stare interweaved with the security guard's pleading eyes. Obviously he was infected. The evidence was visible all over his body. They could not estimate the time he had remaining, but they knew he would undergo that twisted transformation sooner then later. Besides, seeing how he struggled onto his side made it crystal clear that he was already shuffling off his proverbial mortal coil. The signs were written on him. His breathing was very labored and his skin took on a pale, pallid tone. They assumed he had nightmares in his sleep and was delirious when awake. Putting him out of his misery would be a merciful option, yes.

Muramatsu, however, didn't agree.

He started forward, but Yoshida placed a hand on his chest. "We can find a doctor! We can..." Muramatsu tried getting past Yoshida, who was forced to shove him backwards onto his ass.

"Don't interfere," he said harshly. "This new world consist of two things: life and death. We'll need to adjust to these conditions and remove our previous identities. We're no longer going to be afraid of killing an actual human in order to survive... not when he is already lying on his deathbed. Understand? We need to become adults."

"Bullshit!" Muramatsu retorted scrambling to his feet. "We are all going up to that conference room and we're going to find a doctor! Terasaka, you of all people should know this is morally wrong! You stopped Nagisa from killing that lunatic Takaoka, remember? Why won't you stop yourself from killing someone who has done no harm?"

"Don't remind me, Muramatsu. I don't need you to give me a lecture. But to answer your little question, the only reason why I will not stop myself is because Nagisa was alive and had a lot to lose. This guy seems to have already lost everything precious to him, including his life. We can't do anything to help him."

"But you don't know that!" Muramatsu slipped between Yoshida and Hazama. Terasaka aimed the pistol at the security guard's forehead, distracted by his monotonous gasping. Muramatsu threw himself at Terasaka, tackling him into the wall and caused the gun to discharge into the ceiling. They struggled for a minute, with Terasaka having the upper advantage, until Yoshida appeared behind the distressed teen and grabbed his arm, bending his wrist painfully toward his forearm until he collapsed to his knees. "Damn it!" he cried. "You can't do this! You can't!" But he knew they wouldn't listen. His attempts at stopping them proved fruitless as trying to squeeze silver from a silverfish.

Hazama sighed as she watched Muramatsu break. She understood his reasons, but they could not follow through. Picking up the pistol, she turned to Terasaka and handed him his weapon. "Shoot." she said coldly that it could almost freeze his ears. "We should not overstay our visit here at the hospital. All the doctors are clearly dead, and I do not want Muramatsu dragging a zombie's corpse over here just because it's wearing a white coat."

Without giving her a verbal response, Terasaka took aim and fired two shots into the security guard's head. Blood oozed out the wound from where the bullet penetrated through his skin. His eyes were white as an albino stag beetle. Suddenly, the surgical doors were busted open. A multitude of zombies streamed out and drunkenly hobbled toward the group, attracted by the pistol's noise. Yoshida released Muramatsu and lifted him off the floor. Not a single word was said, but Muramatsu was quiet after that, and refused to look his friends in the eye. The raving zombies were getting warmer and they couldn't waste another second. They grabbed their bags packed with medical supplies and ran like the wind as the zombies pursued them.

They proceeded to the stairs and found a tangle of heavy furniture blocking the access to the next floor below. Muramatsu and Hazama stood guard as their muscle boys removed enough furniture so they could squeeze past the barricade and make a beeline to the next floor. They prowled the second and first floor, finding it was still deserted except for the zombies tied to beds. Their growling and thrashing was getting tiresome, but the team didn't have the ammo to perform euthanasia on all of them.

As they were about to exit the hospital, a zombie they had thought was dead reanimated and latched a hand onto Hazama, yanking her to its height. The zombie exposed its yellow, rotting teeth. Hazama squirmed and wriggled like a worm trying to reclaim the gun that was knocked away from her. As the zombie prepared to chomp off her nose, a bullet slammed straight into its mouth. The zombie dropped silently onto her chest as she pushed it off with great disgust. Muramatsu stood over her and extended an arm.

"Come on! We need to go!" he said hoisting her up.

"We've got company!" Terasaka yelled readying his pistol as zombies outside slowly entered the hospital through the entrance doors. The group stood together, shoulder by shoulder, as they fought for their survival. Taking out every single zombie that thought it had a chance of killing them. Within minutes, the zombies had been slaughtered. They raced past the bodies and immediately breathed in the fresh evening air as they finally escaped the damn hospital. The declining sun that seemed to be spreading across the sky like a poisoned egg was mixed between yellow, orange, and a tint of pink. When night struck zombies were very dangerous.

If they came late, everyone would probably worry and send Korosensei, or Karasuma-sensei, to find them. Thankfully, that wouldn't be necessary because they were freed from that hell.

Sitting on the rooftop on the building across the hospital, a man carrying a sniper watched the group as they fled down the dead street with bodies laying here and there through his scope. He wore a commercially manufactured ghillie suit augmented with scraps of foliage from the area to blend with the loose strips of burlap on the garment. Since they entered the hospital, he had been waiting patiently to see whether they would return alive or be eaten by the big onslaught rumbling inside. His dark pair of sunglasses absorbed the fading sunlight as he had nested their comfortably, listening to the gunshots. He was surprised to see them unharmed without missing any body parts, or receiving any fatal injuries. That confirmed they were not ordinary students. They were definitely assassins; ones that could become a potential threat.

"Unfortunate..." he muttered as he departed.