AB Chapter 17: I Want to Call the Police
Benny groaned, scalp tingling, turning to his buddy with wide eyes.
“We're surrounded by zombies!”
Michel sighed. “We should’ve expected this. Looks like I’ll have to get out and walk. Once I leave, they’ll stop crowding you and you can drive the car in.”
Benny said, “But…”
He was worried Michel would get trampled by the mob the moment he stepped out.
Michel was just as concerned.
His hand hesitated on the door handle. Truth be told, facing such a large crowd of nosy people, he had zero desire to step out.
No one wanted to be treated like a circus monkey.
Countless private photos would be uploaded online for gossip and scrutiny.
“This many people… fighting our way out won’t work.” Simon suddenly spoke. He bent down to peer out the window, stretching his limbs. His amber eyes scanned the crowd, calculating who to take down first.
His remark scared Benny half to death. But facing this towering man who looked capable of folding him into a suitcase, he could only shoot Michel a series of frantic, pleading looks like a startled prairie dog — practically spelling out:
“I don’t want to end up in jail, please!”
Michel: “…”
Fine. I better just get it over with.
He pulled his hooded coat over his head and grabbed Simon’s hand. The roughness of Simon’s palm gave him a bit of security. Taking a deep breath, Michel braced himself and pushed the car door open…
The moment he stepped out —
Wolf whistles. Meaningless cheers. Laughter.
Click! Click click click!
White flashes flickered as camera shutters fired like machine guns.
Michel instinctively let go of Simon’s hand, ducked his head, and started pushing through the crowd — shoving past chests of every color to forge a path forward.
“Hey, Michel! Did that thing on your ass finally crawl up to your head?!”
The mocking voice, loud and familiar to everyone on campus, sent a tight squeeze to Michel’s heart. His body froze like a statue, suddenly forgetting how to walk.
Eric Ellis and his posse finally pushed through the mob, landing right next to Michel.
Seeing the pale young man lower his head and clench his fists gave Eric a bit of joy — lifted his sour mood.
His presence also forced the other students to back off a little. They stopped taking photos, but no one left — the crowd stayed to watch.
Chewing gum, Eric leaned in, narrowed his eyes at Michel and sneered:
“Ha, why don’t you show us your flower, huh? Flower—ugh, what a goddamn disgusting word on someone like you! Tch, you freak hiding among humans!”
“…”
“Hey! I’m talking to you, Michel. You little zinnia fairy! Hahaha!”
“Pffft hahaha!”
“…”
The people behind Eric burst into mean-spirited laughter, leering at Michel.
Michel pressed his dry lips tightly together, shut his eyes and silently repeated to himself:
You expected this. Don’t get angry. Don’t lose control. Michel… They’re lunatics. They can drop out — you need your diploma, your life…
Besides, you can’t fight back.
You can’t win against all of them.
This is reality…
Yes, this is the harsh reality.
When Michel remained silent, Eric smugly circled him like a predator.
A tense, dangerous atmosphere filled the air. The mocking whispers made Michel’s stomach twist in pain.
“Oh, you don’t want to show me? Fine.” Eric spat out his gum, his smile vanishing, gaze turning cold.
“I’ll just do it myself!”
He lunged forward, aiming to yank off Michel’s hood.
Girls in the crowd covered their mouths, excitedly lifting their phones.
Michel clenched his fists, bracing himself. He knew Eric wanted to humiliate him.
“Swoosh—!”
That raised hand was slapped away!
A shadow loomed. Eric stumbled and fell back into his group.
Everyone followed his gaze—and realized that the shadow wasn’t a cloud.
It was a giant man, tall enough to rival the campus gate!
As people’s eyes rose up to see his face, jaws dropped.
The campus gate pillar… had come to life?!
Simon, now in front, brushed aside the buzzing “fly” near his flower. He took a step forward and, bending down, firmly took Michel’s hand — and only then did his icy face soften.
“Are you blind?”
Simon looked down at the group of “radishes” before him and said coolly:
“Wanna see your brains smashed in, you short trolls?”
“…”
“…”
“YOU FREAKING PIG—!”
Eric, snapping out of his shock, pushed past his followers and raised a fist to attack.
Michel panicked and turned, trying to shield Simon.
But Simon simply raised a hand and grabbed Eric’s head.
Like gripping a basketball, his massive hand nearly covered Eric’s whole face. Eric thrashed and flailed, but couldn’t land a single hit.
Even windmilling his arms or clawing at Simon’s arm left no marks.
Everyone: “…”
Michel: “…”
Honestly, if the guy’s name weren’t Eric, this would’ve been hilarious.
But unlike before, there was no warmth in Simon now.
This meat-eating bee had sharp, almost blade-like features. His face was icy — like a killer’s mask, filled with murderous intent.
Still holding Eric’s squirming head, Simon applied a little pressure — Eric’s skin bulged grotesquely between his fingers.
Creak… crack…
A shiver ran down everyone’s spine — even Michel.
“You understand human speech, right?”
Simon bent down and locked eyes with the terrified Eric through his fingers. His voice was hoarse and trembling with excitement.
In a low, menacing tone, he said:
“Get lost, little pest. Or I’ll turn your brain into fireworks — red and white spraying from your eyeballs into your mouth…”
“You don’t want to taste your own brain. But I’d really enjoy it. I could make you disappear in some corner of this school, just a corpse, no one would know… So before I lose my patience — back off. Got it?”
Simon’s eyes glinted with deadly seriousness.
An invisible alarm blared. The line between real violence and petty bullying was drawn in blood — Eric was a joke now.
The aura around Simon screamed to everyone present:
“This is not a bluff.”
“I will kill you.”
“Please, give me a reason to do it.”
The whispering died.
The crowd thinned, people slipping away silently.
When Simon finally let go, Eric’s face was twisted, red with fingerprints. His pupils dilated in terror.
He didn’t even glance at Michel — just turned and ran, dragging his gang with him.
What had been a packed school gate was now empty, except for a few approaching security guards, a dazed Michel, and Simon — calmly wiping his hand.
Michel slowly turned his head.
Simon looked back.
Michel’s expression said:
"Serial killer."
Simon’s gaze said:
"My precious sweetheart."
Michel: “…”
911. Someone call 911!!
Author’s Note – Mini Theater:
Little Flower: AHHHHHHH CALL THE POLICE! CALL THE F**ING POLICE!!*
Mr. Bumblebee: Heehee~ even your screams are cute, my baby~
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