Watching Miranda disappear down the hallway, Brian turned and gave one last glance at the classroom Sarah had entered before stepping into his assigned room.
Inside, children laughed and played, completely indifferent to the new faces among them.
After all, there were about a hundred or two hundred students here. With only a week of coexistence since arriving at the school, how could they possibly remember everyone's face? Plus, seats were not fixed — each day brought different classmates, making it even harder for anyone to form real connections.
Brian casually scanned the room but didn't rush to find a seat. Instead, he looked up toward the ceiling and corners. As expected, small surveillance cameras were installed in each corner, silently watching everything that happened inside the classroom.
Satisfied with this observation, he continued walking until he reached the back of the room, where a neat row of bookshelves stood.
He examined the books from left to right — textbooks, world classics, various encyclopedias, comic magazines… practically every genre was represented, though the quantity wasn't large.
Even more surprisingly, he spotted a few fashion magazines with provocative covers — half-naked models striking seductive poses. The pages showed signs of missing issues, indicating that someone had already taken them.
This discovery made Brian raise an eyebrow in silent disbelief. He couldn't quite understand why such material would be placed here. After all, this was a school full of energetic teenagers. Someone really wasn't thinking straight putting these kinds of books out in the open.
Other sections like comics or novels were also heavily browsed, while academic materials and encyclopedias remained largely untouched.
His eyes moved carefully across the shelves until he found just two books worth reading — one on human anatomy and another on close-quarters combat techniques. In this post-apocalyptic world, time to study was precious, and he needed to use it wisely to grow stronger as quickly as possible.
Holding the books tightly in his arms, he walked over to a spot near the back of the room, close to the window. There were no other students nearby — perfect for quiet reading.
Placing both books neatly on the top-left corner of the desk, Brian instinctively reached for the combat manual first… but hesitated halfway through the motion.
After a moment's pause, he instead pulled out the anatomy book. At thirteen years old, his body hadn't developed enough to truly benefit from martial arts training. Even if he read the techniques, his physical strength and endurance wouldn't allow him to practice them effectively. And besides, there was no immediate need for combat skills right now.
Instead, understanding human anatomy seemed more practical. Beyond the commonly known weak points — eyes, throat, kidneys — he wanted to learn what other vulnerable areas existed. Knowledge of these could help identify places that could instantly disable an opponent.
Flipping through the pages, Brian focused on the anatomical diagrams connected by black lines labeling each part of the body. He located the relevant pages and began reading intently, gradually getting lost in the information.
Before long, a middle-aged man stepped into the classroom, holding a newspaper. His gaze swept across the noisy students still chatting and playing.
The moment he entered, those kids immediately returned to their seats, though some whispered to each other under their breath.
The man didn't seem to care. He sat down at the frontmost seat near the door, crossed his legs lazily, and unfolded his newspaper. He was just here to maintain basic order — anything beyond that, he clearly didn't want to deal with.
As the wall clock ticked forward slowly, two hours passed without notice.
When the hands neared three o'clock, the man finally lifted his head from the paper, checked the time, and put it away. Then, wearing a slightly amused expression, he announced:
"The afternoon physical training is about to begin. Head to the courtyard."
Although formal lessons hadn't started yet, all students were required to undergo daily physical conditioning.
This was the apocalypse. Outside the quarantine zone, the infected roamed freely. Whether they became soldiers or civilian workers later, they would eventually have to leave the safety of the campus for short periods. Having a strong body capable of outrunning danger was essential.
"Ahh—!"
At his words, a chorus of groans filled the air. Brian almost chuckled — it reminded him of the old days, when gym class got canceled for boring lectures.
Slowly lifting his head, he watched as the students rose from their seats and rushed toward the two exits at the front and back of the classroom.
He marked the page he was reading, folded the corner gently, and tucked both books into his desk drawer before standing up and following the crowd outside.
The campus had two exercise yards. One was next to the academic building — Brian noticed the younger children, mostly under ten years old, heading there.
That made sense. Younger bodies were still developing, so their physical training must be moderate — nothing too intense.
The second yard was beside the cafeteria. If you could even call it a yard, it was more like a simplified military-style stadium. Bleachers lined the sides, capable of seating thousands. Unlike the smaller yard, this one was clearly meant for older students.
All snow and ice had been cleared, revealing a wide, flat space. In the center stood several soldiers in uniform, their expressions stern as they waited for everyone to gather.
Students slowly formed groups in the center of the field, grouping by their classes. Brian gave a rough estimate — around fifteen clusters, each with about a hundred students. Totaling no more than four thousand here alone. Adding in the younger group, the entire student population likely didn't exceed six thousand.
This number shocked him slightly. Atlanta once had nearly six million people, yet now, the only school in the quarantine zone held less than six thousand students.
It suddenly clicked in his mind — no wonder Atlanta was labeled a high-infection zone. This place must have been built under extreme hardship. Only a tiny fraction of survivors managed to reach and enter the zone safely.
Now, the number of civilians was probably even lower than that of the soldiers. With so much land and so few people, it wasn't surprising they needed reinforcements from other zones.
The training wasn't special — standard military routines: warm-up exercises, followed by a 5000-meter run. Fortunately, Brian had maintained a running habit since the outbreak, so this was easy for him.
But then came push-ups, sit-ups, parallel bars, and pull-ups. Though common exercises, the volume was significantly increased. Still, considering the need for gradual improvement, it wasn't unreasonable.
Even so, the routine drained Brian completely. He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath and wiping sweat from his forehead.
Now he understood why everyone groaned when hearing "go to the courtyard." It was exhausting.
And this was only the third day of the program. Most students hadn't adapted yet — hence the constant complaints.
While resting, Brian suddenly felt a familiar warmth rising from his abdomen, spreading throughout his body. It was oddly soothing.
He pressed a hand against his stomach, surprised by the sensation. Since his first run in Dallas, this strange energy had appeared after every workout. It flowed through his limbs, subtly boosting his stamina and strength.
At first, the effect was barely noticeable. But as he kept running every morning, the heat flow weakened and eventually vanished. He assumed it was because he needed better nutrition and heavier workouts to trigger it again.
Yet during their final escape, when he carried Sarah and pushed himself to the limit, the warmth returned — stronger than ever. That time, the feeling was incredible, like soaking in a hot spring. All fatigue and discomfort disappeared, leaving him refreshed.
Looking down at his hands, Brian muttered to himself:
"What the... What exactly is happening to my body?"
He thought hard but couldn't figure it out. Eventually, he filed it under "weird side effects from being reborn in this world."
"Could I actually be the main character in one of those novels I used to read?"
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he briefly indulged in fantasy. For the first time in a long while, he let his imagination wander.
But Brian was a rational person. After a brief distraction, he shook off the thoughts, stood up slowly, stretched his stiff muscles, and started scanning the exhausted, complaining crowd for Sarah.