Dying Light - Tennessee Gays Edition 1

At about two in the afternoon, pale light filters through the drapes and the broken blind slat. Charlie clears a space on the floor for an inventory.

Thomas, Maya, Evan, Priya, Daniel, Lauren, and Marcus contribute backpacks and dorm supplies. Together they find several crates of bottled water, packaged food, first-aid materials, and two flashlights.

The count grows more precise. Charlie’s toolbox holds wrenches, sockets, screwdrivers, and loose hardware; the room also contains kitchen knives, a heavy desk lamp, and improvised barricade materials.

Thomas checks the attached bathroom while Maya gathers empty bottles, cooking pots, and cleaned storage containers. The cramped room quickly becomes an improvised water station.

Water rushes into bottles and plastic bins. The sound seems unnervingly loud in the dorm room, but nothing shifts below, and the barricaded stairwell remains quiet.

By the time the tap slows to a trickle, the group has filled the available containers and stacked them beside the food. Their water reserve is visibly larger.

Charlie relaxes and eases down onto his bed, careful not to disturb the labeled water containers. Around him, the survivors settle into the first quiet pause all day.

Priya and Lauren choose manga, while Daniel and Marcus gather a board game from the room’s shelves. The survivors arrange themselves in a loose circle around the cleared floor.

Charlie grins and deals a hand around the circle, cards sliding softly across the cleared floor. The labeled water containers remain safely out of reach.

A few quiet laughs loosen the room. Priya and Lauren lean over their cards, while Daniel and Marcus set the board game aside to watch the negotiations.

Charlie checks his cards, studies the quiet circle, and plays a card onto the floor. The others follow, keeping their voices low and their supplies untouched.

The round passes without raised voices or careless movement. Cards trade hands, small jokes circulate, and the room’s tension loosens another notch.

Charlie places his final card. A brief silence follows as everyone compares the table, then several faces turn toward him with reluctant surprise.

Charlie giggles silently, shoulders bouncing once as he gathers the cards. The small gesture draws a few relieved smiles around the circle.

The rules settle quickly: Charlie may assign a reasonable dare instead of a chore, provided it remains safe, quiet, and practical. Thomas studies him with theatrical suspicion.

Thomas retrieves a loose pair from his bed, checks the room with exaggerated dignity, and pulls the boxers over his buzzed blonde hair like an absurd cap.

The elastic snaps against his forehead with a sharp twang. Everyone jolts, and a muted impact answers from somewhere below the dormitory.

The room settles into restrained snickers as Thomas keeps the boxer shorts perched on his head. Beyond the door, the group listens for another impact.

Charlie grins and winks at Thomas before gathering the deck. The gesture earns a few quiet chuckles as Thomas adjusts his ridiculous boxer-short cap.

Charlie deals another round across the cleared floor, keeping the cards low and the soft rhythm steady. The survivors lean closer, careful not to disturb the water containers.

Thomas studies his hand beneath the improvised hat while Priya and Lauren exchange amused glances. Below, the dormitory stays quiet, leaving the room briefly in control of its own mood.

Charlie raises his eyebrows at the suggestive wording. Thomas freezes with his cards halfway lifted, while the boxer-short cap tilts dangerously over one violet eye.

A ripple of restrained laughter moves around the circle. Thomas steadies his ridiculous cap, then lowers his gaze to his cards as though concentrating can protect him.

Charlie’s tone makes the teasing clear. Thomas’s violet eyes widen, and the boxer-short cap slips sideways as several survivors clamp hands over their mouths.

Charlie plays his cards onto the floor, one after another, keeping the motion controlled and the edges from snapping against the boards. The round tightens around the final plays.

Thomas lowers his cards and shifts the boxer-short cap back into place. The room’s amusement softens into something warmer, a promise of an ordinary tomorrow amid barricades and infected below.

A dull scrape travels through the dormitory ceiling, followed by a heavy bump somewhere beyond the blocked stairwell. Every smile fades, and the cards stop moving.

Charlie opens the toolbox without letting the hinges scrape and pulls out a sturdy hammer. He grips it in his bandaged hand, keeping the head low beside his knee.

Maya picks up a kitchen knife, Evan takes a heavy flashlight, and the others quietly choose improvised weapons. Water containers and cards remain undisturbed behind them.

The group goes still. Through the ceiling, a dragging step crosses the second floor, pauses, then shifts toward the stairwell with a faint scrape of furniture.

Charlie lowers the hammer and eases the door open. Thomas follows close behind with the desk lamp raised, while the others hold position inside the room.

They step into the hallway without breaking the silence. The dim corridor is clear, and the stairwell entrance stands visible at the far end, its door ajar.

Charlie shifts his bandaged hand around the hammer. The gauze pulls tight across the cut, and a small spot of blood seeps through, but his grip holds.

From below, furniture scrapes across tile. A slow shape passes behind the stairwell’s wired glass, then stops beneath the landing, listening.

Charlie flattens himself against the hallway wall, keeping the hammer close and his breathing quiet. Thomas mirrors him beside the open door, lamp raised but unlit.

Through the stairwell’s wired glass, the shape resolves into a Biter dragging one leg across the landing. It pauses beneath the stairs, head twitching toward the dormitory.

The Biter shuffles around a toppled chair, fingers brushing the railing. Its cloudy gaze never reaches the hallway, and the group remains hidden without making a sound.

After a long pause, the Biter turns toward the lower corridor and drifts out of sight. The stairwell falls quiet, leaving the door ajar and the landing visible.

Charlie crosses the hallway slowly, keeping the hammer low. He reaches the stairwell, steadies the ajar door, and eases it shut until the latch settles without a click.

The Biter’s dragging footsteps continue below, muffled now by the closed door. Its fingers scrape once across the other side, then the sound fades toward the lower corridor.

Thomas lowers the desk lamp but keeps both hands around its base. He glances toward the dorm room, where the others wait in tense silence behind the open doorway.

Behind them, Evan silently gestures toward the scattered tools and the dorm’s spare chair. The hallway remains clear, while the closed stairwell door holds the Biter below.

Evan retrieves the spare chair and positions it beside the stairwell door, testing its angle against the handle without letting the legs scrape. The retreat path remains clear.

Maya quietly signals the others to remain inside the dorm room. Evan settles beside the stairwell, chair in hand, while Charlie and Thomas face the second-floor landing.

Thomas eases the stairwell door open a fraction. Dusty daylight cuts across the lower steps, revealing an empty landing and a dark corridor beyond it.

Charlie follows Thomas through the narrow stairwell, placing each shoe carefully on the dusty steps. The hinges stay silent, and the daylight reveals no movement above.

They reach the second-floor landing together. A dark corridor stretches toward closed classroom doors, with overturned trash cans and scattered papers marking a hurried evacuation.

Thomas leans out just far enough to inspect both directions. Charlie checks the landing and the nearest doorways without touching anything, while faint dragging sounds continue below.

A door at the corridor’s left end hangs open. Inside, overturned chairs surround a vending machine, but the room is empty. No fresh movement disturbs the dust.

Charlie nods and follows Thomas back toward the stairwell. The corridor remains empty, papers whispering under their careful shoes while the dragging sounds below stay muffled.

At the landing, Charlie and Thomas ease the upper stairwell door shut and brace its handle with a fallen chair, leaving a clear path for retreat.

Thomas tests the chair once, then lowers his desk lamp and starts down. Charlie follows closely, placing each step softly as dust drifts from the railing.

The closed door settles behind them without a click. Below, the Biter drags itself along the lower corridor, its uneven footsteps easier to track through the stairwell.

Charlie and Thomas reach the third-floor landing, where Evan keeps the spare chair ready beside the dormitory entrance. The others wait inside, armed and silent.

Agree on how to handle the Biter