Apocalypse Rising: Brains After Brains

CRYSTALLINE UNIVERSITY

OUTER COURTYARD - LATE AFTERNOON

"But I think we just missed yearbook photos."

For a second, Xenia couldn't help it. Her brain froze on the absurdity of it all. Photos. Gowns. Smiles. A final page in the Crystalline yearbook that would never be printed now. She let out a dry laugh.

"Well," she muttered under her breath, mascara still intact despite everything, hair now a wild halo from the wind and panic, "none of it matters anymore."

And then she saw what Rafe saw.

The world outside had shifted. It wasn't the sunlit courtyard she'd walked through hours earlier with her heels clicking and her valedictorian sash fluttering. The sky was no longer soft blue—it was bruised. A furious grayish-blue, thick with storm clouds and smoke. The kind of color the sky only got when something unnatural was bearing down on the city.

The parking lot looked post-apocalyptic. Cars were twisted together in impossible shapes, like metal had melted and slammed into itself. A bus was on its side, its wheels still spinning like a cruel joke. Flames licked up from a toppled sedan, casting eerie shadows on the campus gates. One lamppost had snapped in half and lay on the pavement like a broken bone. And hanging from a strip of barbed wire was a single red graduation tassel, gently swaying in the breeze, mocking the entire occasion.

And the worst part?

The things out there.

They moved like humans but weren't. Their limbs jerked at impossible angles. Their jaws hung open, unhinged, gaping. Eyes rolled like marbles in cracked sockets. Some were missing patches of skin. Some dragged themselves on twisted ankles. All of them radiated one thing: hunger.

"Holy crap," Xenia whispered, voice barely a breath.

THUD.

Rafe dropped her.

No warning. No ceremony. One moment she was in his arms; the next, she hit the pavement hard. Pain shot up her spine like a lightning bolt.

"What the hell?!" she yelped, scrambling back onto her elbows.

Rafe was already grabbing her hands to pull her upright. "I panicked. I... I saw someone actually on fire. Like, walking. Like that's just their life now."

Xenia wobbled to her feet, robe torn at the knees. "So your first instinct was to throw the me at the ground?!"

"I strategically lowered you at an unsafe velocity."

"Oh, so we're doing sarcasm now. During the apocalypse."

Behind them, a familiar shriek echoed across the courtyard.

"OH MY GOD, this is divine punishment for every time I ghosted a group project!" Jecipher wailed, stumbling out from a wall of smoke. His glitter eyeliner still flawless. "I should've confessed. Or stopped stealing popcorn from the dorm. Or stopped mentally undressing Professor Lysandros during stretches."

Rafe blinked. "What—?"

"Respectfully," Jecipher raised a finger. "But let's not pretend you didn't cradle Xenia like a Wattpad love interest."

Rafe turned crimson. Xenia cleared her throat. "Focus. Please."

Rafe spun around. "We need to move. That gated path, east side. There's a way through."

They didn't make it three steps.

A girl in a red gown ran past, heels clicking frantically on the broken pavement. Her sash flapped like a flag behind her. Behind her, a man with a mangled mouth and shredded robes sprinted... yes, sprinted... like rage itself was propelling him.

Graduation Apocalypse: Part Three - Afternoon, Outside Crystalline University

This time, Rafe snatched Xenia's wrist—gentle but firm, the kind of grip that said, I won't let you fall, but I will drag you if I have to. She didn't argue. Not when the world was collapsing in stages behind them, and especially not when screams had turned into gurgles.

They ran.

Xenia's bare feet smacked the busted pavement, every step a jolt through her body. Her once-pristine robe flapped wildly behind her like a cape made of regret. Beside her, Jecipher careened along in shiny oxfords that looked like they'd been made for a drama club gala, not a full-blown undead apocalypse.

"Why did I go with real leather?!" he wheezed. "I should've worn sneakers. Or Crocs. Or full medieval chainmail! Fashion's gonna get me killed!"

"Save the runway commentary for later," Xenia snapped, ducking a swinging electrical wire that looked like it wanted to audition as a guillotine.

The path ahead? Utter carnage. Folded plastic chairs lay scattered like confetti from hell. A hotdog cart had toppled sideways, oozing a sinister trail of mustard that gleamed like slime in the sunlight. A banner reading CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 2025 was tangled around a lamppost, flapping like a flag surrendered to madness.

They dove behind a battered vending machine half-buried in rubble. The metal casing was scorched and dented. Shards of broken Coke bottles crunched under their knees.

Xenia landed hard, sucking in air like it owed her money. Her robe was torn at the knee. Her valedictorian speech was still clutched in her hand like a relic from a better universe.

She peeked out from the side. Her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay... what causes this? Virus? Brain-eating amoeba? A cursed PowerPoint from the bio lab?"

"Could be a rogue AI that hates graduation," Jecipher muttered.

"No way this is random," she said. "Maybe a mutated strain of something—rabies? Weaponized fungus? Someone opened the wrong file?"

"Xenia," Rafe interrupted, crouched beside her, his eyes razor-sharp. "Less science fiction. More staying alive."

"That is how I stay alive!"

"Y'all can theorize later," Jecipher chimed in. "Maybe write a thesis: Zombies and Zero Sleep: How Final Exams Prepared Us for the End Times."

Rafe peeked over the vending machine's bent top.

What he saw made his jaw tighten. A girl in a red sash was being mauled by one of them. The infected man—no longer fully human—bit into her neck like she was an entrée. Her scream fizzled out like a broken fire alarm.

"Don't look," Rafe warned.

Xenia looked anyway.

The world turned sideways. Her stomach knotted. The blood, the tearing, the sound—too visceral, too close.

"Oh my god," she whispered, trying to swallow bile. "This isn't a prank. This isn't a test."

"I'm gonna hurl and cry at the same time," Jecipher muttered, gripping his knees. "Who made multitasking a thing?!"

They dropped back down. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and burnt rubber.

I wore setting spray for this," Xenia said with a shaky laugh. "Eighteen-hour matte finish—thanks to Zoe. I can barely put on mascara without poking my eye, and now I'm out here dodging zombie blood with a full glam look like it's fashion week."

Rafe blinked, then said earnestly, "It's holding up."

She stared at him.

He shrugged. "Just saying."

Jecipher panted beside them, his dress shoes scuffed beyond redemption. "This is how I die? In off-brand oxfords? I deserve sequins (a small, shiny metal or plastic disc sewn onto clothes for decoration) ."

A screech rang out in the distance. High, unhinged. Not mechanical. Something... human adjacent.

Rafe's body tensed. "We have to move. Now."

Xenia offered a rapid plan. "My dorm's closer. Westburned Hall. North side. Old gate. Reinforced door, emergency lock."

Rafe shook his head. "Too crowded. We'll get stampeded. My place is six blocks. Gated. Reinforced. Second floor. We can barricade."

Jecipher blinked. "You live that close to campus?"

"I teach 7 A.M. PE. You think I fight traffic at dawn?"

"Hot and efficient. That should be illegal."

Then Rafe said it again.

"Let's move."

Xenia rolled her eyes. "Is that your apocalypse catchphrase?"

"Yes," he said flatly, already rising.

They zigzagged through the maze of chaos. Xenia's robe snagged on a broken folding chair, tearing another chunk off the hem. Jecipher muttered a prayer to whatever fashion gods might be watching.

The trio ducked through an alley behind the chemistry building. The late afternoon sun cast long, gold shadows against the graffiti-tagged brick. Somewhere, a fire alarm was still going off in looping agony.

A shadow moved.

"Down!" Rafe shouted, pulling them into a storage closet lined with forgotten janitorial supplies.

They waited. Held their breath. A pair of infected passed the alley, sniffing the air like wolves.

When they were gone, Jecipher whispered, "What do we even call them? Zombies? Biters? Brain tourists?"

Xenia shook her head. "Whatever they are, they weren't born. They were made."

Rafe didn't respond. He was listening. The kind of listening you do when you're used to danger.

"Alright. This way."

They emerged from the alley into a backlot filled with dumpsters and shattered glass. Ahead: the fencing around campus. Beyond it, the city... or what was left of it.

Smoke spiraled from a flipped bus. A news van burned on the corner. Helicopters hovered in the sky, aimless and distant.

And still... people ran. Screamed. Bled.

"Gate's open," Rafe noted. "That's not good."

"Define 'not good,'" Jecipher asked.

"Means they're already in the city."

They crossed into the street, weaving through frozen traffic and discarded phones.

Xenia's foot landed on a glittery graduation cap. Someone had written Finally Free! in silver Sharpie.

She looked up. "I really thought this day was going to be my beginning."

Rafe slowed just enough to glance back. "It still is. Just not the way you imagined."

"Do I still get my diploma?"

"You get something better. You get to live."

Jecipher grunted. "Speak for yourself. I just inhaled a bug."