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Description
           The merry band of travellers swerved into the room, and fell back upon the door with commendable synchronisation. After a few tense seconds the battering ceased, and the confused grunts faded slowly away. We turned around and saw that it was Rambo‘s lair; room 207. Clustered within were Rambo and the remainders of our crew; Pat, Alix, Eve, Matt, Luke, Jake, Saoirse and I.

           Jake, characteristically, was the first to speak. ‘Alix?’ he asked plaintively between grateful whoops of  air. ‘I know you like genetic engineering and stuff, but did you have to make them evil experiments?’ We all dissolved into hysterical laughter. Once we had composed ourselves, Alix answered, very seriously, ‘It’s all very odd! I only have one current experiment….Didn’t you notice your gills, Jake?’ Cue more laughter.

           ‘Glory be to God, people!’ interrupted Rambo’s stentorian voice. ‘Pull yourselves together!’ A habitual, almost inaudible chorus of ‘Yes, miss’ arose. ‘Well? What do you think it is?’ she imperiously asked, pointing at me. ‘Um…APRIL FOOLS!’ I shouted as inspiration struck. ‘Idiot!’ Jake stuck out his tongue at me. ‘It’s November!’ ‘Yes, but’, I defended my idea, ‘I only meant it could be a prank….’ ‘Right’ interrupted Rambo once more, writing it on the board. ‘What other possibilities are there?’ Eve started crying quietly. Matt raised his hand, then lowered it, looking sheepish. To continue the agricultural similarity, he gave a horsy laugh before suggesting hypnosis.

           Eve’s sobbing grew louder, and she hiccupped out ‘I-I-it’s z-zombies!’ We looked uneasily at each other. ‘Lets proceed on that supposition,’ our revered teacher instructed: ‘How? Why? When?’ ‘Colonel Mustard, in the Well, with the zombie virus’ Luke quipped. ‘What does it matter? We have people/zombies who appear to want to kill us, and we are stuck in a science lab, with only a t-square to defend ourselves with!’

            ‘Zombies want brains, right?’ said Saoirse nervously. ‘In horror books, certainly,’ I agreed. Saoirse was a Goth, so was always pale, but at this she went ashen. ‘We are the school geeks.’ she pointed out, and the rest of us managed to match her pallor instantly. ‘They can’t smell brains, can they?’ The intercom crackled to life. ‘Braaaaainnnnnnns’ something droned eerily. ‘Oh, balls!’ cursed Jake. I heartily concurred.

Description
           The merry band of travellers swerved into the room, and fell back upon the door with commendable synchronisation. After a few tense seconds the battering ceased, and the confused grunts faded slowly away. We turned around and saw that it was Rambo‘s lair; room 207. Clustered within were Rambo and the remainders of our crew; Pat, Alix, Eve, Matt, Luke, Jake, Saoirse and I.

           Jake, characteristically, was the first to speak. ‘Alix?’ he asked plaintively between grateful whoops of  air. ‘I know you like genetic engineering and stuff, but did you have to make them evil experiments?’ We all dissolved into hysterical laughter. Once we had composed ourselves, Alix answered, very seriously, ‘It’s all very odd! I only have one current experiment….Didn’t you notice your gills, Jake?’ Cue more laughter.

           ‘Glory be to God, people!’ interrupted Rambo’s stentorian voice. ‘Pull yourselves together!’ A habitual, almost inaudible chorus of ‘Yes, miss’ arose. ‘Well? What do you think it is?’ she imperiously asked, pointing at me. ‘Um…APRIL FOOLS!’ I shouted as inspiration struck. ‘Idiot!’ Jake stuck out his tongue at me. ‘It’s November!’ ‘Yes, but’, I defended my idea, ‘I only meant it could be a prank….’ ‘Right’ interrupted Rambo once more, writing it on the board. ‘What other possibilities are there?’ Eve started crying quietly. Matt raised his hand, then lowered it, looking sheepish. To continue the agricultural similarity, he gave a horsy laugh before suggesting hypnosis.

           Eve’s sobbing grew louder, and she hiccupped out ‘I-I-it’s z-zombies!’ We looked uneasily at each other. ‘Lets proceed on that supposition,’ our revered teacher instructed: ‘How? Why? When?’ ‘Colonel Mustard, in the Well, with the zombie virus’ Luke quipped. ‘What does it matter? We have people/zombies who appear to want to kill us, and we are stuck in a science lab, with only a t-square to defend ourselves with!’

            ‘Zombies want brains, right?’ said Saoirse nervously. ‘In horror books, certainly,’ I agreed. Saoirse was a Goth, so was always pale, but at this she went ashen. ‘We are the school geeks.’ she pointed out, and the rest of us managed to match her pallor instantly. ‘They can’t smell brains, can they?’ The intercom crackled to life. ‘Braaaaainnnnnnns’ something droned eerily. ‘Oh, balls!’ cursed Jake. I heartily concurred.