"Jane!" my mother yells from the hallway of her family pod. "Get your but out of bed or you're going to be late!"

"coming..." I moaned half heartedly. I had already been awake for the past two hours,too frozen with fear and anticipation to budge from my green camouflage comforter. It's finally here, I thinks to myself. My first day of high school. Life is finally beginning.

Judging from the clanks and sizzles and occasional yelps from the other room, am guessing that my mom is attempting to make breakfast which, in itself, is a momentous event. She's usually much too busy in her laboratory cooking up the newest batch of life saving serum to bother with actual food.

"Rise and shine, soldier!" The captain of the zeta sector military police force stands at attention in my bedroom doorway, his silhouette blocking most of the light from the hallway. "You need to be out the door by oh-six-Hundred hours."

"Yes sir."

I sat up and felt under my bunk for my slippers.

"Aw, don't be nervous, pumpkin. You'll do fine." He pats me on the head as I pass him on my way to the bathroom. "Just be yourself."

Surprisingly, my mom's pancakes turn out to not be half bad. After inhaling a stack and downing a glass of protein drink ,I grab my backpack and head for the door. Along the way,I pick up my trusty .22 caliber pistol ( nicknamed "Opal" after the white iridescent inset on it's handle), double-checking the barrel and the side pocket of my pack."Well, I'm off. Wish me luck."

"Where do you think you're going with that ,young lady lady?" my mom asks with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" she says. You're actually going to send me to school all alone with no protection?"

She stands patiently in front of me with her hand out, she's late for work,but she looks like she could wait there all day.

As far as mom's go, her's is alright, although she's a stickler for the rules and the sector law says that the only weapon children under eighteen are allowed to carry in public is a crowbar.

"You're the boss, mom, " I say as I extend the pistol almost into my mom's waiting palm. "But since it's my first day and all, how about a little extra bullets for some dessert at lunch or something?"

My mom glares at me for a moment and then cracks a smile. She fishes in her pocket. She hands me a bullet as I hand her pistol. My mom then hands my crowbar. It's painted green and spans the length of my forearm. And its way too boring to have a nickname.

"Now, " my mom adopts her motherly tone."I know school can be cliquey.But don't limit yourself to on group of friends. You're pretty, you're smart, and you're athletic, so it's not fair to restrict yourself to a single label. Be nice to everyone, and try not to give in to peer pressure."

"God, mom, " I groaned. "You sound like one of those lame after school specials you and dad are always watching on the retro channel."

My dad laughs as he hands my mom her briefcase. "Well, those were the good old days."

The year is 16A.Z , sixteen years since the beginning of the world wide VM pandemic. VM stands for Victus Mortuus, the clinical name for the living dead. But they go by many other names too: Meatbags, Bags, un-Ds, Trips(For the awkward way they stumble around), Fectos(The low level infected who still have a chance of recovery), 20's(The worst of the worst-level 20 infection), and sprayers (For the big green mess that 20's brains make on the walls when you shoot them).

Before the VMs wiped out most of the world's population, a handful of survivors were able to find safety underground. At last count, 72,641 Americans occupied the twelve high-tech military bunkers built below Seattle sometime in the 2000s. Jane's sector, zeta, is somewhere beneath what used to be Tucson. The government had plans to expand farther underneath the entire country to create a safe haven in the event of a major terrorist event, such as nuclear fallout or bioterrorism. But no one ever expected that these plans would be interrupted by something straight out of an old zombie movie.

My mother was six month pregnant with me when she and my father entered zeta sector. Thanks to their medical backgrounds, they'd been recruited soon after the infection was discovered simultaneously in Shanghai, Mumbai, London, Johannesburg, Rio De Janeiro, Sydney and New York City. I was born in the zeta sector hospital, and I have spent everyday of my sixteen years of life safely tucked away in its residential zone.

According to sector law, all children under sixteen must be homeschooled, either by tutors or various sector-sponsored under-net site's. After that everyone is required to attend public sector high school for three more years. The best and brightest students enter either the military or the medical fields. The average citizen might accept teaching, janitorial, or service positions- either marry someone in the first two categories and start a family, or earn food vouchers by volunteering for medical experiments.

For me and my generation, it's always been this way. My only memories of the B.Z. world come from movies made long time ago in some place they used to call Hollywood. Now, the newest media personalities ( Mostly boy bands and reality television personalities) come out of Alpha sector. Movies don't get made much anymore, so me and everyone else my age obsess over old classics like Grease, Mean girls, and High school musical. And though I know they're all just stupid fantasies from a long-dead era, I still hope that Zeta high will have maybe just a fraction of their awesomeness (Except maybe for kids busting out into songs in the hallway, that I could live without).

I give my parents one last hug goodbye and head down the corridor to meet up with my best friend, Chase. Well, at least he was my best friend before he entered high school last year. I had grown apart a little bit since then, but now I hope it's going to be just like old times again. Plus , it would be great to have someone close by to show me the ropes and give advice.

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***The door of chase's pod swings open "Yeah ,ma, " he says over his shoulder as he comes out into the corridor."She's here right now."

"Good luck , Jane!" chase's mother calls from inside, and I wave thanks. Chase pushes his sandy brown bag out of his blue eyes with an impatient flick of his wrist, pulling the door shut behind him. He smiles and flips his own green crowbar up into the air and then slides it deftly into the side pocket of his cargo pants.

"Ready to go, bait?"

I hate this nickname for all first-year students, even if it is true that eighteen percent of them don't survive to their third year. "Shut up, " I said elbowing him in the ribs.

"Relax, " he says, elbowing me back." You know I'm just kidding."

I guess chase could be described as cute, but I've also known him since I was four years old. I've shared baths and chicken pox, and I've tormented countless babysitters and tutors together. I've come to think of him solely as a brother. Any thought of romance between the two of us makes me queasy.

The two of us follow the east corridor to the subway, joining the mass of other students and workers along the way. A colourful mural celebrating Dr.Ethan Ehrlich's early antidote research adorns the stone walls. The heavy scent of spray paint filled my nostrils and I noticed that someone graffitied . "Death to all Fectos." and "Meat bags suck." across the doctor's oversized beaker of AZ-214. Suddenly, the foot traffic in front of me comes to a halt.

"Looks like a bottleneck up at the eye scanner, " chase says, craning his neck above the crowd. " They must have caught a fecto." In a few moments, the crowd slowly starts to move again, and I finally make it to the eye scanner. I walked through it, careful not to blink, as a heavily armed military policeman watches the computer screen. It flashes green and he waves me through the gate. Me and chase arrive at the platform just as the subway does, and I hustle inside to find a sit together with chase.

"So, did your mom freak this morning when you left?" chase asked.

" Nah, she was fine. She just gave me some cliché advice about avoiding peer pressure and cliques."

"Well she's right about that."

"Ugh," I groaned. "You too? You can't be serious."

"I am," he says, scanning the car anxiously before sitting back in his sit, "The Zeta High School scene is brutal. It's the best to avoid it altogether."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you not listened to a word I've said this past year?" asks chase. I shrugged and chase sighs. "Okay,"

he continues. "Listen up. First you have the baggers. They're all meatheads and steroid cases, if you ask me, all they care about is killing Meatbags."

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"More like a 22/7 testosterone fest. When they're not bragging about their kills, they're obsessing*** ***about their next workout or the newest energy drink. So boring. Most bagger guys date royalty- the cheerleaders and all of the other spoiled pretty princesses. Fortune trophy wives, I like to call them. Next, you have the Ehrlich's. These are smart kids, obviously, and they are also totally lame. All they do all day is study and brown-nose the teachers for extra bullets, which they immediately hand over to the baggers to protect their scrawny butts."

"That's pretty nice of them," I said, relieved that I won't be witnessing any revenge of the Nerds-style bullying for being smart.

"Whatever. They're still major wads. But non of them are as bad as a kid A."

"Who's that?"

"Every years got one," chase says, raising his voice to a mocking pitch. "The guy who's sooo smart, sooo strong, and sooo brave. All the girls drool over the kid A."

"Uh-huh," I said. "Jealous much?"

"As if." chase leans back and crosses his arms .

"Is there ever a female kid A"

"I've never heard of one. It's always been a guy." He gives me his patented smart-aleck look. "Why? You think fit the bill?"

"No, just curious," I say with a shrug. "It seems like you have everyone else figured out. where do you fit in, exactly?"

"I don't fit in, thank you very much." He shifts uneasily in his seat and avoids my gaze.

"You're a rat!?" I asked, eyes wide with disbelieve. "How come you never told me?"

"I'm not a rat. I hate that label. I'm just one of the few kids who refuses to be sucked into the whole fascist system."

I consider this for a moment ."At least baggers and Ehrlich's and royalty all have a purpose for the greater good of society. What's yours?"

"Do you hear yourself?" chase huffs, his face suddenly turning red."You sound just like those stupid public announcements on TV. Do you really think everyone had a purpose back before this all happened? What's wrong with just wanting to be a kid?"

A man sitting across from me peers at chase over his news paper. Chase sighs and looks over the window at the passing advertisement along the subway tunnel wall. I noticed that there's going to be a John Hughes movie marathon all next weekend, and I make a mental note to DVR it."Look," chase finally says."It's not like I'm planning to donate my body to science or anything. But sometimes I just get sick of all the crap. I'd just rather play Resident evil than actually live it you know?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Just then, I noticed a group of teens entered my train car - one guy and two girls. Based on chase descriptions of high school social structure, I'd guess that this guy is a bagger. His broad shoulders, cocky expression says it all. The two girls are definitely royalty- Beautiful, poised, and possessing obvious fashion sense.The three of them are chatting and laughing with one another.

They haven't noticed me or chase on the other side of the crowded car.

Chase is a rat, the least popular of the social cliques at the school.

Chase is my childhood friend! I admonish myself for even thinking of selling him out. Beside.... The gaggle of Populars appear to be too engrossed in each other to notice me. Isn't that the way it usually goes?

The two of us continue talking about what to expect for the day ahead.

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A tone dings twice over the speaker system, signaling the next stop. Chase reaches for his backpack."Just remember one thing: the less you call attention to yourself at this school,the easier it'll be, trust me."

I followed chase out of the subway car and join a few dozen other kids walking towards a set of heavy grey doors . Above them hangs a plaque which reads "ZETA HIGH SCHOOL- ESTABLISHED 2 A.Z." I entered a wide hallway lined with lockers, passing small clusters of squealing girls, guys horsing around with their buddies, and silent kids with their nose already buried in thick medical volumes. I follow chase around the corner, eventually approaching three kids who all great him with smiles or slaps on the back.

Guys,meet Jane," chase says. You smile as Nick, Tatum, and Caroline introduce themselves.

"Howdy," Tatum chips. Her strawberry blood hair is lacquered into short spikes all around her head, and her ears are pierced with about a dozen earrings each."Chase told us all about you . If you want to stash your stuff in my locker, that's cool. I have plenty of room."

"Oh, thanks," I say. "But I think first years are all assigned lockers over the west hall?"

"It doesn't matter," Nicky says. His black t-shirt has a white skull with MISFITS written in green across it's forehead. He's also missing a tooth behind his left canine."No one ever checks.I've had the same locker for the past five years."

"Five?"

Caroline snorts and puts her arm around Nick's waist. She's wearing an ill fitting green cardigan and a plaid skirt and thick yellow glasses."He's joking. He's only been held back once, and that's only because he spends most of his time in detention."

I laughed politely as a speaker bolted to the ceiling crackles with static.

"Attention all students: please report to the auditorium in five minutes for principal Gupta's orientation speech," a booming voice announces."This is mandatory. Thank you."

"This is mandatory, thank you," Nick repeats mockingly, and Caroline snorts again.

"Wonder if old Gupta has any new materials this year?" Tatum asks no one in particular, checking her tongue ring in her locker mirror.

"Doubt it," Nick scoffs. He reaches over to put Caroline in a playful headlock.

"Hey!" she wiggles away and hip checks Tantum."Can I borrow your Chapstick?" The girls fiddle with their make up as chase and Nick make bored small talk. No one makes any attempt to join the rest of the students milling towards the auditorium.

"Um, maybe we should get going," I said nervously.

"You're not really going to go to that are you?" Chase asks."It's so totally boring. Besides we have other plans."

"Like what?"

Tatum pulls a blue card out of her back pocket and waves it under my nose."Like, I pinched this from my dad this morning."

"What's that?"

"A key, dummy. My dad's a janitor. That means full access to the school." She slips the card back in her pocket, a self satisfied gleam in her eyes."And rumour has it that there's a cage full of trips somewhere in the south corridor. Like total 20s."

"Aaarrrgggghhh!" Nick lunges at Carolina's neck and she dissolves into giggles before locking lips with him in a sloppy exchange of spit .

"Isn't that dangerous?" I asked."I don't want to get infected. I hear getting an antidote shot totally sucks. And it doesn't even work most of the time."

Tatum rolls her eyes and slams her locker."Oh,c'mon. Live a little. Besides , it's totally safe. My dad cleans in there everyday and he's a total wuss."

"I don't know," I said, biting my lip in hesitation."That orientation sounded pretty important....I mean it's my FIRST HOUR at this school and I immediate break the rules?" I asked incredulously."As mom says, don't break the rules until you know the rule of the game," I think to myself, although am careful not to declare my mom's advice out loud.

"You know what? I think I'm gonna stay behind and go to this thing," I said. "I'll catch up with you guys at lunch."

"Aw, come in!" Tatum says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Don't be a lame-zilla."

Chase stands up a little straighter next to me, his big brother instinct kicking in."Hey, I'll go with you, Jane."

"Really?" Tatum is scowling now."You said it yourself that it's a waste of time,Chase."

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind. Besides, I really don't need to start the year off with another detention. You guys go on."

Nick shrugs and throws his arm around Caroline."Whatever, man. See you at lunch." Caroline gives me a little ware and the three of them take off down the hallway.

"Whoa, Tatum is kinda intense, huh?" I asked when she was out of earshot.

"I guess." Chase shoves his hands in his pocket, usually means he's pouting the about something.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Let's go."

Most of zeta high's three hundred students have already packed into the school auditorium, but me and Chase managed to find sits together in the back. A short Indian man stands at a podium in the middle of the stage and taps on the microphone.

"Attention, everyone. Let's take our seats and get started." He waits a moment for the murmur of the crowd to die down."I'm principal Gupta, and welcome to another year at our esteemed Zeta High!" The audience emits a few whistles and claps, followed by a low mooing sound coming from off to the side. Principal Gupta frowns and shuffles through his note cards."In a moment, I'll be going over the school rules and regulations. But first I want to introduce Dana Blair, who will talk you about the Friday homecoming scrimmage"

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