The rain hammered against the windows like a relentless army. Water streaked down the glass, turning the world outside into a blur of grey and motion. Inside the classroom, the old ceiling fan spun lazily, barely cutting through the restless energy buzzing among the students of Class 12B.
That morning had seemed ordinary.
But it wasn't.
It was the prologue to the end.
At the back of the room sat a group of eleven students — six boys and five girls — a tight-knit circle bound more by chaos than common sense. We called ourselves The Bunker Squad. It started as a joke. We skipped classes together, backed each other up, and survived the battlefield that was school life.
We didn't realize back then how prophetic that name would become.
I remember glancing down at the first page of my notebook. Bold letters stared back at me:
THE BUNKER SQUADAyush, Kartik, Shivam, Lucky, Dev, Manish, Ananya, Ayesha, Isha, Sanaa, Nisha.
Each name held a memory, a moment, a bond.
By lunchtime, the rain had intensified, pounding the canteen roof like a warning drum. The scent of hot food mixed with damp uniforms and worn-out books. We had split into two tables — boys on one side, girls on the other — but conversations flowed easily between us.
"Bro, Lucky missed passing by two marks," Kartik said with a laugh. "That's not a fail — that's a betrayal."
Lucky shrugged, unbothered. "Teacher just doesn't like me. Simple."
"Karma for copying Vijay's answers," Dev added, grinning.
Laughter echoed through the canteen. A few of the girls turned their heads, smiling at the noise. Across the room, my eyes met Ananya's. Just for a moment. She held the look, calm and unreadable. I looked away first.
"You'll have to tell her someday, bro," Kartik murmured, nudging me. "Before it's too late."
He always said things straight. Even when I wasn't ready to hear them.
Later that afternoon, silence fell over the classroom like a curtain.
Then, all at once, our phones buzzed.
Heads turned. Screens lit up. A breaking news alert flashed across each display:
"Unknown virus outbreak in parts of India. Infected show violent, aggressive behavior. Investigation ongoing."
"Viral prank or marketing stunt," Suraj scoffed.
"Bet Netflix makes a doc about this in three months," Manish replied.
We barely had time to process it before the loudspeaker crackled to life.
"All students stay in classrooms," the principal's voice announced. "This is not a drill. Doors will be locked. Parents are being contacted."
A pause.
The room went dead silent.
Teachers moved quickly, locking doors, drawing curtains, whispering among themselves. Fear crept in, quiet and cold.
That's when the joke stopped. That's when it got real.
By evening, the entire school had been moved into the auditorium. Over two hundred students sat shoulder to shoulder on the floor, some in silence, some in tears. The teachers tried to keep order, pacing nervously, whispering into their phones, eyes flicking toward the doors.
The power flickered.
That's when Kartik stood up, his voice calm and firm.
"Panic helps no one," he said. "Stick together. Stay calm. We've got this."
Even the teachers nodded. Some students cried more quietly.
I scanned the room until I found Ananya. She wasn't crying. She wasn't shaking. She was observing. Calm. Calculating.
She wasn't scared.
She was ready.
The next moment shattered everything.
A scream tore through the auditorium.
The doors slammed open.
Mr. Sharma, our school security guard, stumbled in, blood pouring from his shoulder. Behind him limped a girl — her skin pale, her eyes lifeless.
She lunged.
She bit into his neck.
Screams erupted.
People ran in every direction. Chaos swallowed the auditorium whole.
"Move! Side exit!" Kartik shouted. "Ayush! Shivam! Let's go!"
I didn't think. I grabbed Ananya's hand and pulled her with me.
Ayesha, Tanya, and Bhargav joined us. Bhargav held a wrench like a weapon, knuckles white.
We reached the science lab. Barricaded the door with heavy shelves. Everyone was panting, faces pale, eyes wide.
"This isn't real, right?" Lucky whispered, his voice shaking.
"We saw it," Ayesha said flatly. "It's happening."
Tanya's voice came quietly from the corner. "My uncle's in the army. He warned me months ago. Said something was spreading. Slowly. They thought it was contained."
"You knew?" Dev asked.
"Not that it'd reach us," she replied. "Not this soon."
Distant screams echoed down the corridor.
That's when it hit me.
We weren't just students anymore.
We were survivors.
The room had quieted. Some prayed under their breath. Others sat frozen. Kartik watched the door, his jaw set.
I opened my notebook. Wrote down one name. Underlined it.
Ananya.
Some people get warnings before their world changes.
Others just wake up to an ordinary day…
…that ends with the end of childhood.
[End of Chapter 1]