I woke in a dark room, though I had no recolection of falling asleep. I was wet, all my clothes we soaked and it made my whole body cold. What ever I was laying on was hard and uncomfortable. Nothing in the room was visable, except for a small red light that didn’t look too far from where I was laying. I sat up slowly and pushed myself off of what felt like a wooden table.
I took a few steps towards the red light and bumped into something hard, another wooden table. My hards flew out in front of me as a reflex and smacked into a wet mass on the table. It flinched and sat up. In the small glow of the red light, I could see a human face staring back at me.
A bright light flooded the room and I was momentarily blinded. When I could see again, I saw my friend Angie sitting on the table in front of me and two other girls lying in puddles of water on their own tables. Angie wrapped her cold arms around me and nearly squeezed the life out of me. We were still hugging when the door opened.
A man in a grey uniform, like a janitor, came in with a big trash bag and threw it onto the floor. Another man, behind him, came in and dropped four rusted metal boxes next to the bag. The the noise the men had made woke the other two girls, who I did not recognise. They look scared, but they look even worse when they saw the rusted boxes.
“Where are we?” Angie asked through chattering teeth.
I looked around. “I have no idea.” I told her. The room was white now, with nothing in it besides the tables we had been laying on and the things that they had just dropped off. The red light had been coming from a camera the was set in in the upper right corner from the door.
Angie was kicking the trash bag, “It feels like cloth, or clothes maybe?” she said.
I went over to it and ripped it open. There were four pairs of grey sweat pants and four plain grey t-shirts in the bag. They were dry, so I grabbed a set and walked back over to my table. Angie did the same. But the other two girls stayed on their tables in their puddles.
I stripped down and through on the new clothes, then looked at the two girls who were still on their tables with their knees pulled up under their chins. Angie finished changing and mopped up the puddle on her table with her already wet clothes. She wrang them out in a corner of the room and laid them on the floor to dry. I copied her, hoping to have a dry place to sleep.
“Aren’t you cold?” I asked, looking at the two girls.
They both nodded.
“Why don’t you change clothes?” Angie asked them.
“The, th, the box.” One of them said as she pointed over at the rusted boxes.
“What about them?” I asked, backing away from them slowly.
“That’s what they came in, in our auditorium at school.” the other one said.
Based on a very elaborate dream I had in which I was a student in this high school. The story goes on to tell how myself and a small group of friends survived the initial wave of attack only to be locked in something similar to a concentration camp where the people around us were slowly being killed off.