ON-JO: Then we go down. Fire escape.

Metal door to the roof. Pushing against it from the inside is CHEONG-SAN (18, brave, impulsive) and ON-JO (18, practical, terrified). Behind them, the hallway is filled with HORDES of zombies—students in bloodied uniforms, snapping jaws, milky eyes.

Beat. The name hangs. Gyeong-su turned an hour ago. Cheong-san had to push him off the railing.

FAR BELOW, sirens wail. Distant. Not close enough.

CHEONG-SAN (cold): I’m not him.

CHEONG-SAN: (straining) The lock’s rusted. It won't budge.

As he steps onto the roof, Na-yeon turns the scissors toward him.