I was sleeping peacefully when I heard knocking on my front door. C'mon people, really? It's Saturday, 7am- the ONE day I get to sleep in! Wrapping my blanket around me I peeked through the window and was shocked to see Tracy in running gear. "Hey, I was just in the area- wanna join me for a jog?" I was so surprised that I nodded groggily and watched her expectant smile light up. I told her I'd be right back, and she jogged in place outside my door as I threw on my shorts, grabbed my sneaks and laced up. Realizing my probable halitosis, I quickly brushed my teeth.
Let's get something straight- I'm not a jogger. I don't run for fun, nor do I understand why people actually enjoy it. I've tried to get into running several times but couldn't ever figure out how to get home once I was worn out. It seemed like I ran until I was tired, then had to walk all the way back. The last time I went jogging I actually took the bus home. No lie.
Anyway, that being said, I actually had fun jogging with Tracy. She didn't pressure me to run faster than I would have wanted to, and we didn't even talk much, at least not about anything important. It was just- relaxing. She's a pretty good runner- really fit. She easily could have run twice the speed we were pacing, but that didn't seem to bother her. She just kept smiling and jogging along. Around the park, past the office, and back towards the center of town. I have no idea how far we went, but when I was tired we slowed down, when I had a stitch in my side she jogged in place patiently while I walked in circles groaning, which made us both laugh.
We stopped at this little cafe on the way back- I got a smoothie with protein added and a chocolate chip muffin. She had a banana and some organic chocolate health shake. We chose a seat out on the patio and as we ate we noticed everyone inside seemed to be glued to something on TV, but we were too far away to see or hear what was being reported. Probably another nut eating bath salts or something.
As we walked back toward my place Tracy mentioned that she wasn't dating that guy in Marketing. When I asked what happened she said "he just wasn't what I was looking for" and left it at that. I didn't want to ask what she WAS looking for. I'm not sure I was ready to hear the answer. We got close to my place and she said a quick "Thanks for coming with me this morning!" and jogged off before I could say anything.
I walked up to my door to grab my paper before I went inside, but it wasn't there. I had hoped to see if it had anything about whatever was on the TV in the cafe. Is today a holiday? No... Newspapers don't take holidays. Weird. In fact, as I looked around I noticed there wasn't a single paper on any of my neighbors' doorsteps either.
Too sweaty to worry about that now. I'm taking a quick shower and then going back to bed. I still owe myself a few Z's...
You know how it ends. Now read how it begins...
Chapter 5- Some nurse gets a-salted
I had a large report due today, so I planned to arrive at work about an hour and a half early. I had the report done almost a week ago, but I glanced at it every day this past week, putting a few finishing touches on it and making sure I was familiar with the data. The directors needed the information today and I wanted to be ready in case they called me in to discuss it.
I stood in front of the mirror wearing a blue Oxford shirt. It was the wrinkle resistant kind, the only type I buy, and it had a kind of houndstooth pattern woven into it. I had it altered to fit my frame, something I thought only rich people did until I found out how inexpensive it was. There's something about a custom tailored shirt. I felt a lot more confident wearing it. Perhaps it was how it fit or how I thought I looked, but whatever it was the shirt fit fantastically, and I couldn't help but wonder if Tracy would notice me in it. I looked at my face in the mirror. When did I become so preoccupied with this woman? I realized that many of my simple decisions were being dictated by how I thought she would react. "Stop being a stupid teenager" I commanded myself in the mirror, and immediately laughed at my own ridiculous verbal self motivation. What a childish thing to do, to talk to yourself in the mirror. I looked at myself and smiled. "You're a real idiot!" I said in my cheesy used car salesman voice, winking and pointing a gun-shaped finger at myself.
I held three ties in my hands, and alternated holding each one up to my neck to see how they looked. I wanted to look my best in case the directors wanted me to present my findings myself. "You're ALWAYS interviewing for your next job" my father would tell me, "whether you realize it or not." It was true, and something I tried to live by. I wouldn't say i was an overly ambitious employee, but I did want the directors to notice me so that one day they would think of me if a management position opened.
I selected a bold green tie with gold and blue stripes, and began tying it in the mirror when I heard another thump coming from the neighbors. This one seemed to shake the entire wall, and I immediately stepped forward, putting my ear to the drywall. I heard a muffled sound. Was it a moan? I pulled my head back immediately, ashamed that I might have overheard the couple next door spending a little "quality time" with each other.
Jeff was the only one in the office when I arrived, and he seemed all too eager to begin his socialization routine. As I logged into my computer he pulled out his iPad and opened the NY Times app. "It happened again." He said matter-of-factly. He handed me the tablet and I read the headline. "Woman doesn't remember being pregnant, attacks police officer." Reading the first paragraph it outlined how some woman gave birth to a baby in a prison and four days later went crazy during her daily shower, beating up a bunch of nurses and biting a cop. "What does this have to do with Zombies?" I asked Jeff, almost annoyed that he was wasting the time I so carefully planned to spend on my report. "Keep reading" he said eagerly, and handed the iPad back to me.
"Authorities claim she was high on bath salts." Jeff flicked his finger across the screen and the photo of a woman appeared. "What?" I asked, wondering how this was making his point. "She seems kinda normal to me, little grumpy maybe..." I pushed the tablet back into his hands and tried to get back to my work. The woman was a mess, not happy at all, and looked like she had been beat up more than once. Her eyes were swollen and black, her lip cut in two places. "Looks like she got roughed up a bit." I said, but Jeff immediately protested. "She's a Zombie, just like the guy in Florida! The government is having a hard time covering up such public violence, that's why they made up the bath salt lie." I glanced back at the iPad. "So they killed her?" Jeff stops and looks down at the article, unsure of the answer. "If she was a real zombie she'd still be trying to eat people, right?" I asked with a fatherly tone, hoping this last bit of logic would satiate his appetite for my attention. I certainly seemed to stump him, because he walked dejectedly back to his desk, mumbling something about sedation. I could tell my comment took the wind out of his sails.
The rest of the morning went smoothly. As people showed up Jeff would go to each, showing the article and making his case. Dwayne just laughed at him, the girl in accounting just smiled shyly, and Tracy almost punched him. "Get out of here with that crap!" She said loud enough for all of us to hear. She was standing in the doorway of her cube, pointing toward his desk as though commanding him to depart. He slunk back quietly, no desire to make a further spectacle of himself. As she turned back to her desk she glanced my way. Our eyes met and she seemed nervous, looking away quickly, like she was embarrassed that I saw the way she talked to him, but EVERYONE saw her talking that way. I don't know- I shouldn't get my hopes up.
Lucas wasn't here today. With the new bin system the trash cans actually didn't need emptying, but the bathrooms were a mess. Paper on the floors, and at least one if the toilets were clogged. I would have walked right out if it wasn't for the three bottles if arrowhead water demanding I spend a few seconds in front of a urinal. I washed my hands carefully and used a paper towel to wipe off the sink handles, then open the door.
As I arrived at my desk I saw the directors gathering in the glass conference room in the center of the office. Any minute now they would be calling me in. I tried to stay busy while controlling my eagerness. Opening my phone, I checked my twitter feed. An article about a string of violent attacks caught my eye, and I was about to read it when the phone on my desk began to ring. I picked it up and looked toward the conference room. "Yes sir?" I asked politely. "I'll be right in." I said with confidence. I hung up the phone and grabbed a stack of color copies and my thumb drive. "Showtime" I said to myself with a smile.
I stood in front of the mirror wearing a blue Oxford shirt. It was the wrinkle resistant kind, the only type I buy, and it had a kind of houndstooth pattern woven into it. I had it altered to fit my frame, something I thought only rich people did until I found out how inexpensive it was. There's something about a custom tailored shirt. I felt a lot more confident wearing it. Perhaps it was how it fit or how I thought I looked, but whatever it was the shirt fit fantastically, and I couldn't help but wonder if Tracy would notice me in it. I looked at my face in the mirror. When did I become so preoccupied with this woman? I realized that many of my simple decisions were being dictated by how I thought she would react. "Stop being a stupid teenager" I commanded myself in the mirror, and immediately laughed at my own ridiculous verbal self motivation. What a childish thing to do, to talk to yourself in the mirror. I looked at myself and smiled. "You're a real idiot!" I said in my cheesy used car salesman voice, winking and pointing a gun-shaped finger at myself.
I held three ties in my hands, and alternated holding each one up to my neck to see how they looked. I wanted to look my best in case the directors wanted me to present my findings myself. "You're ALWAYS interviewing for your next job" my father would tell me, "whether you realize it or not." It was true, and something I tried to live by. I wouldn't say i was an overly ambitious employee, but I did want the directors to notice me so that one day they would think of me if a management position opened.
I selected a bold green tie with gold and blue stripes, and began tying it in the mirror when I heard another thump coming from the neighbors. This one seemed to shake the entire wall, and I immediately stepped forward, putting my ear to the drywall. I heard a muffled sound. Was it a moan? I pulled my head back immediately, ashamed that I might have overheard the couple next door spending a little "quality time" with each other.
Jeff was the only one in the office when I arrived, and he seemed all too eager to begin his socialization routine. As I logged into my computer he pulled out his iPad and opened the NY Times app. "It happened again." He said matter-of-factly. He handed me the tablet and I read the headline. "Woman doesn't remember being pregnant, attacks police officer." Reading the first paragraph it outlined how some woman gave birth to a baby in a prison and four days later went crazy during her daily shower, beating up a bunch of nurses and biting a cop. "What does this have to do with Zombies?" I asked Jeff, almost annoyed that he was wasting the time I so carefully planned to spend on my report. "Keep reading" he said eagerly, and handed the iPad back to me.
"Authorities claim she was high on bath salts." Jeff flicked his finger across the screen and the photo of a woman appeared. "What?" I asked, wondering how this was making his point. "She seems kinda normal to me, little grumpy maybe..." I pushed the tablet back into his hands and tried to get back to my work. The woman was a mess, not happy at all, and looked like she had been beat up more than once. Her eyes were swollen and black, her lip cut in two places. "Looks like she got roughed up a bit." I said, but Jeff immediately protested. "She's a Zombie, just like the guy in Florida! The government is having a hard time covering up such public violence, that's why they made up the bath salt lie." I glanced back at the iPad. "So they killed her?" Jeff stops and looks down at the article, unsure of the answer. "If she was a real zombie she'd still be trying to eat people, right?" I asked with a fatherly tone, hoping this last bit of logic would satiate his appetite for my attention. I certainly seemed to stump him, because he walked dejectedly back to his desk, mumbling something about sedation. I could tell my comment took the wind out of his sails.
The rest of the morning went smoothly. As people showed up Jeff would go to each, showing the article and making his case. Dwayne just laughed at him, the girl in accounting just smiled shyly, and Tracy almost punched him. "Get out of here with that crap!" She said loud enough for all of us to hear. She was standing in the doorway of her cube, pointing toward his desk as though commanding him to depart. He slunk back quietly, no desire to make a further spectacle of himself. As she turned back to her desk she glanced my way. Our eyes met and she seemed nervous, looking away quickly, like she was embarrassed that I saw the way she talked to him, but EVERYONE saw her talking that way. I don't know- I shouldn't get my hopes up.
Lucas wasn't here today. With the new bin system the trash cans actually didn't need emptying, but the bathrooms were a mess. Paper on the floors, and at least one if the toilets were clogged. I would have walked right out if it wasn't for the three bottles if arrowhead water demanding I spend a few seconds in front of a urinal. I washed my hands carefully and used a paper towel to wipe off the sink handles, then open the door.
As I arrived at my desk I saw the directors gathering in the glass conference room in the center of the office. Any minute now they would be calling me in. I tried to stay busy while controlling my eagerness. Opening my phone, I checked my twitter feed. An article about a string of violent attacks caught my eye, and I was about to read it when the phone on my desk began to ring. I picked it up and looked toward the conference room. "Yes sir?" I asked politely. "I'll be right in." I said with confidence. I hung up the phone and grabbed a stack of color copies and my thumb drive. "Showtime" I said to myself with a smile.
Chapter 4- Special Bins
I normally don't hear people through the walls of my apartment, even if they are blasting music or arguing. The builders did a fantastic job insulating the place I guess. I don't know a ton about construction, but it seems like whoever planned this particular community knew how annoying paper thin walls can be. This morning, however, I heard a massive thump against the wall of my bedroom. If I didn't know better I'd say someone threw a cinderblock or a bowling ball against the wall. I sat up in bed, attentively listening for any sign of struggle or problem. Nothing. Reaching for my phone I pushed the wake button to check the time. 6:12am. I doubt I'll be able to fall back asleep before my alarm goes off at 7:00, so I might as well get up.
I hopped in the shower, shivering from the cold air creating goose bumps across my bare skin. The water felt fantastic. Not too hot, just enough above room temperature so it felt warm but not so hot that I'd start sweating. I'm usually a no-nonsense shower taker, getting clean and getting out, but today I took my time, standing under the water, watching as the drops fell to the plastic floor. The silvery trails of water traced my body and flattened my hair, running in distinct paths to the drain below.
Another tremendous thump sounded in the next apartment, and I looked at shower wall, half expecting something or someone to come crashing through. If that did happen I wouldn't want to be standing there like some naked idiot, so I shut the water off and grabbed my towel. Watching the wall carefully I dried off quickly and put on my deodorant. As I reached for my toothbrush I heard another thump. What were they doing over there? I'd never met my neighbors, at least I'd never spoken to them. I knew there was a man and a woman living there, though they were rarely home. The few times I saw them they were never together, always coming or going in some uniform. As best I could gather she was a nurse or a dental assistant, she seemed to have a different set of scrubs on each time I saw her. He rotated between a shirt and tie and a set of coveralls with the name "Duke" on them. I guessed he was a mechanic during the day and had some sort of sales job in the evenings, probably at a call center or some furniture store.
I leaned into the mirror, listening closely for the sounds of struggle. For a moment I thought I heard a sob, as though someone was crying, but as quickly as it started it stopped. I looked in the mirror, staring at myself. "Not your business" I said, forcing myself not to get involved. I had always had the tendency to speak up, to communicate problems as I saw them, not necessarily getting involved personally but always calling the police non-emergency number when I saw debris on the freeway or an out of control drunk in a restaurant. It was my way of being an involved citizen without having to keep abreast of the nonsense on the nightly news.
I dressed and made a quick breakfast, greek yogurt with a couple spoonfuls of raspberry jelly and some grapes thrown in to give it texture. I mixed it all up in a cardboard cup and grabbed a plastic spoon as I headed out the door. As I stepped out into the hallway I noticed the woman next door just coming home. She carried a brown paper bag and looked very nervous, as though I had caught her in the act. I held up my cup of yogurt in a sort of toasting salute, and smiled, the spoon in my mouth pointing upward as my lips curled around it. As soon as I locked the door I put the keys in my pocket and pulled the spoon out of my mouth. "Good morning!" I called out. She dropped her keys and fumbled to pick them up without spilling the contents of her bag. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." I apologized. "let me help." I took a few steps toward her and froze as she panicked "Stop, don't!" she called out. The look of surprise and confusion on my face sent a shiver of nervous alarm and she quickly backpedaled. "I mean..." she stammered. "We're sick, and I don't want you to catch it." I smiled, and turned to go, glancing back just in time to see her nervously rush into her own apartment. She was hiding something, I could tell that much.
The commute into work was typical, and since I had a lot of extra time I stopped in the coffee shop and ordered a spiced cider. I sat out in the cafe, sipping on the warm liquid and thumbing though my twitter feed on my phone. Bath salts this, zombie that, it seemed that was all anyone was talking about. There was still the typical chatter about love lost and words of wisdom, as well as a few advertisements from businesses about their latest press release or product launch. Overall a typical day so far.
I walked slowly up the stairs to the office, typing in my facebook status as I climbed to our floor. "Heading to work, hope we don't have any more mystery gifts show up on someone's desk." I tapped "post" and put my phone back in my pocket. The receptionist was on the phone and gave me a half wave as I walked in. "No, he's not here at the moment, but I can put you to his voicemail." she said politely. I pushed my wallet against the door and felt the magnet release as I pulled it open.
Lucas was over by the copier setting up a series of new metal bins. Each one had an icon of a different type of trash. Cans, plastic bottles, cardboard, paper. I guess my idea inspired him. They were really nice bins too- Metal and very sturdy. "Where's you find these?" I asked after I'd put my things down at my desk. "Made them." he said proudly. "I have a metal shop in my garage, but hadn't really put it to good use since my last job." I admired the craftsmanship. He really was a fantastic metallurgist, if that's what you'd call him. Whatever the proper term, he made great bins. "I used to make swords, knives and axes for TV shows and movies, but there hasn't been a lot of business for that these days." He said with a hint of sorrow in his voice. "I still like doing it though." I imagined Lucas in his coveralls with a welder's helmet on, wielding a double-bladed claymore against an army of enemies. "Well here's your first donation" I said, smiling as I tossed a water bottle I'd picked up from my desk into the bin marked "plastic." He smiled and touched my arm as I turned to walk away. "Did you happen do get the name of that recycling company for me?" He asked quietly but eagerly. I squinted my eyes and rapped my knuckles on my forehead. "No, I totally forgot, but I'll get it today, okay?" He smiled again and nodded as I went back to my desk.
As I checked my e-mail I thought about Lucas. If he made weapons I wonder if he could sell them online to make some extra money. I googled "laws for weapon sales on web" and found a lot of information restricting the sale of handguns and other firearms, but couldn't find anything about blades or bows. I'd have to remember to tell him about that when I saw him later.
An e-mail popped up from Jeff about another person high on "bath salts" attacking someone like a mindless monster. I looked over at his desk and noticed he wasn't there. I sent him an e-mail asking for an update on a design he was working on for the customer brochure we were working on, and immediately got a response "Out of Office Automatic Reply: Sorry, I'm working from home today, but I'll check my e-mail periodically." I wonder if this was HR mandated or if he was too embarrassed by his stunt. If he's using his paid time off to avoid us... Well, at least things will be a little quieter around here without Mr. Doomsday headline giving me a verbal update on the zombie apocalypse every 5 minutes.
"Hey, we're all going to lunch" Dwayne said as he grabbed his jacket. "Wanna come?" I looked at the clock. 11:45. "Where are you going?" I asked, glancing around to see who "we all" were. The HR lady, Dwayne, and several of the accountants were all getting purses and locking their computer screens. "Heading over to Mario's." Dwayne said. "Lunch special." I nodded and grabbed my jacket, swinging it over my shoulder as I pulled on one of the sleeves. As I walked out I felt a hand grab the other side and help guide it onto my other arm. "Hey, thanks" I said as I turned over my shoulder to see who it was. Tracy stood there, smiling at me. "No problem." she said, and walked past me out the door.
As we walked down the steps I could smell her hair. Its long, dark locks hung in loose curls over her shoulders and the light danced across it as she walked. I looked behind me, expecting that guy from marketing to bound down the stairs any minute and step along side her, but he never did. She talked comfortably with the HR lady and swung her purse at her side playfully and energetically. She seemed like she was in a better mood than usual. I smiled to myself, secretly hoping it had something to do with me.
Marios was packed, and I had to turn sideways several times as I made my way up to the counter. An immensely popular place for lunch, they made delicious food very fast, so it was typical to see everyone that worked with a 3 block radius in between the hours of 11am and 1pm. I ordered a turkey swiss on wheat with avocados and waited patiently as the cashier swiped my card. "need a receipt?" she asked and I shook my head and stepped to the right as she addressed the next customer in line. I admired the glass case full of delicious looking side salads and oversized desserts. The top was covered in baskets of cookies and muffins, and I eyed the chocolate chip ones ruefully. "I typically forget to get dessert but I always want it." I said to the person next to me, who smiled and typed out a text message to someone. I waited patiently and soon heard my number "45!" a man with a thick accent called out, holding a basket with a large overstuffed sandwich. I smiled and took the basket, turning to look for the rest of my group.
Dwayne was standing with several of our co-workers across the restaurant at a tall table and motioned to me with his long arms. I turned sideways to get past the thick crowd of people and almost knocked over a shorter Asian gentleman. "Sorry" I said apologetically. He smiled back, "Iss Bizzy!" he said in a thick accent and bowed slightly before moving out of my way. I smiled back and nodded in agreement, moving towards my colleagues. Placing my basket down on the table, I realized Tracy wasn't there. I looked around the restaurant, knowing that our table was full and I could potentially win a few points by offering her my space on it's surface, but didn't see her. "Where'd Tracy go?" I asked. One of the accountants nodded with a mouth full of something that had sprouts in it and pointed toward the door "Over there" she said, a green string dangling out the corner of her mouth. I followed the direction of her hand and saw Tracy was walking out with a brown paper bag, waving in our direction. She held up her bag and cup and smiled before disappearing out of the crowded doorway.
I hopped in the shower, shivering from the cold air creating goose bumps across my bare skin. The water felt fantastic. Not too hot, just enough above room temperature so it felt warm but not so hot that I'd start sweating. I'm usually a no-nonsense shower taker, getting clean and getting out, but today I took my time, standing under the water, watching as the drops fell to the plastic floor. The silvery trails of water traced my body and flattened my hair, running in distinct paths to the drain below.
Another tremendous thump sounded in the next apartment, and I looked at shower wall, half expecting something or someone to come crashing through. If that did happen I wouldn't want to be standing there like some naked idiot, so I shut the water off and grabbed my towel. Watching the wall carefully I dried off quickly and put on my deodorant. As I reached for my toothbrush I heard another thump. What were they doing over there? I'd never met my neighbors, at least I'd never spoken to them. I knew there was a man and a woman living there, though they were rarely home. The few times I saw them they were never together, always coming or going in some uniform. As best I could gather she was a nurse or a dental assistant, she seemed to have a different set of scrubs on each time I saw her. He rotated between a shirt and tie and a set of coveralls with the name "Duke" on them. I guessed he was a mechanic during the day and had some sort of sales job in the evenings, probably at a call center or some furniture store.
I leaned into the mirror, listening closely for the sounds of struggle. For a moment I thought I heard a sob, as though someone was crying, but as quickly as it started it stopped. I looked in the mirror, staring at myself. "Not your business" I said, forcing myself not to get involved. I had always had the tendency to speak up, to communicate problems as I saw them, not necessarily getting involved personally but always calling the police non-emergency number when I saw debris on the freeway or an out of control drunk in a restaurant. It was my way of being an involved citizen without having to keep abreast of the nonsense on the nightly news.
I dressed and made a quick breakfast, greek yogurt with a couple spoonfuls of raspberry jelly and some grapes thrown in to give it texture. I mixed it all up in a cardboard cup and grabbed a plastic spoon as I headed out the door. As I stepped out into the hallway I noticed the woman next door just coming home. She carried a brown paper bag and looked very nervous, as though I had caught her in the act. I held up my cup of yogurt in a sort of toasting salute, and smiled, the spoon in my mouth pointing upward as my lips curled around it. As soon as I locked the door I put the keys in my pocket and pulled the spoon out of my mouth. "Good morning!" I called out. She dropped her keys and fumbled to pick them up without spilling the contents of her bag. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." I apologized. "let me help." I took a few steps toward her and froze as she panicked "Stop, don't!" she called out. The look of surprise and confusion on my face sent a shiver of nervous alarm and she quickly backpedaled. "I mean..." she stammered. "We're sick, and I don't want you to catch it." I smiled, and turned to go, glancing back just in time to see her nervously rush into her own apartment. She was hiding something, I could tell that much.
The commute into work was typical, and since I had a lot of extra time I stopped in the coffee shop and ordered a spiced cider. I sat out in the cafe, sipping on the warm liquid and thumbing though my twitter feed on my phone. Bath salts this, zombie that, it seemed that was all anyone was talking about. There was still the typical chatter about love lost and words of wisdom, as well as a few advertisements from businesses about their latest press release or product launch. Overall a typical day so far.
I walked slowly up the stairs to the office, typing in my facebook status as I climbed to our floor. "Heading to work, hope we don't have any more mystery gifts show up on someone's desk." I tapped "post" and put my phone back in my pocket. The receptionist was on the phone and gave me a half wave as I walked in. "No, he's not here at the moment, but I can put you to his voicemail." she said politely. I pushed my wallet against the door and felt the magnet release as I pulled it open.
Lucas was over by the copier setting up a series of new metal bins. Each one had an icon of a different type of trash. Cans, plastic bottles, cardboard, paper. I guess my idea inspired him. They were really nice bins too- Metal and very sturdy. "Where's you find these?" I asked after I'd put my things down at my desk. "Made them." he said proudly. "I have a metal shop in my garage, but hadn't really put it to good use since my last job." I admired the craftsmanship. He really was a fantastic metallurgist, if that's what you'd call him. Whatever the proper term, he made great bins. "I used to make swords, knives and axes for TV shows and movies, but there hasn't been a lot of business for that these days." He said with a hint of sorrow in his voice. "I still like doing it though." I imagined Lucas in his coveralls with a welder's helmet on, wielding a double-bladed claymore against an army of enemies. "Well here's your first donation" I said, smiling as I tossed a water bottle I'd picked up from my desk into the bin marked "plastic." He smiled and touched my arm as I turned to walk away. "Did you happen do get the name of that recycling company for me?" He asked quietly but eagerly. I squinted my eyes and rapped my knuckles on my forehead. "No, I totally forgot, but I'll get it today, okay?" He smiled again and nodded as I went back to my desk.
As I checked my e-mail I thought about Lucas. If he made weapons I wonder if he could sell them online to make some extra money. I googled "laws for weapon sales on web" and found a lot of information restricting the sale of handguns and other firearms, but couldn't find anything about blades or bows. I'd have to remember to tell him about that when I saw him later.
An e-mail popped up from Jeff about another person high on "bath salts" attacking someone like a mindless monster. I looked over at his desk and noticed he wasn't there. I sent him an e-mail asking for an update on a design he was working on for the customer brochure we were working on, and immediately got a response "Out of Office Automatic Reply: Sorry, I'm working from home today, but I'll check my e-mail periodically." I wonder if this was HR mandated or if he was too embarrassed by his stunt. If he's using his paid time off to avoid us... Well, at least things will be a little quieter around here without Mr. Doomsday headline giving me a verbal update on the zombie apocalypse every 5 minutes.
"Hey, we're all going to lunch" Dwayne said as he grabbed his jacket. "Wanna come?" I looked at the clock. 11:45. "Where are you going?" I asked, glancing around to see who "we all" were. The HR lady, Dwayne, and several of the accountants were all getting purses and locking their computer screens. "Heading over to Mario's." Dwayne said. "Lunch special." I nodded and grabbed my jacket, swinging it over my shoulder as I pulled on one of the sleeves. As I walked out I felt a hand grab the other side and help guide it onto my other arm. "Hey, thanks" I said as I turned over my shoulder to see who it was. Tracy stood there, smiling at me. "No problem." she said, and walked past me out the door.
As we walked down the steps I could smell her hair. Its long, dark locks hung in loose curls over her shoulders and the light danced across it as she walked. I looked behind me, expecting that guy from marketing to bound down the stairs any minute and step along side her, but he never did. She talked comfortably with the HR lady and swung her purse at her side playfully and energetically. She seemed like she was in a better mood than usual. I smiled to myself, secretly hoping it had something to do with me.
Marios was packed, and I had to turn sideways several times as I made my way up to the counter. An immensely popular place for lunch, they made delicious food very fast, so it was typical to see everyone that worked with a 3 block radius in between the hours of 11am and 1pm. I ordered a turkey swiss on wheat with avocados and waited patiently as the cashier swiped my card. "need a receipt?" she asked and I shook my head and stepped to the right as she addressed the next customer in line. I admired the glass case full of delicious looking side salads and oversized desserts. The top was covered in baskets of cookies and muffins, and I eyed the chocolate chip ones ruefully. "I typically forget to get dessert but I always want it." I said to the person next to me, who smiled and typed out a text message to someone. I waited patiently and soon heard my number "45!" a man with a thick accent called out, holding a basket with a large overstuffed sandwich. I smiled and took the basket, turning to look for the rest of my group.
Dwayne was standing with several of our co-workers across the restaurant at a tall table and motioned to me with his long arms. I turned sideways to get past the thick crowd of people and almost knocked over a shorter Asian gentleman. "Sorry" I said apologetically. He smiled back, "Iss Bizzy!" he said in a thick accent and bowed slightly before moving out of my way. I smiled back and nodded in agreement, moving towards my colleagues. Placing my basket down on the table, I realized Tracy wasn't there. I looked around the restaurant, knowing that our table was full and I could potentially win a few points by offering her my space on it's surface, but didn't see her. "Where'd Tracy go?" I asked. One of the accountants nodded with a mouth full of something that had sprouts in it and pointed toward the door "Over there" she said, a green string dangling out the corner of her mouth. I followed the direction of her hand and saw Tracy was walking out with a brown paper bag, waving in our direction. She held up her bag and cup and smiled before disappearing out of the crowded doorway.
Chapter 3- Lavender
I guess the bath salts ended up in the trash because I saw the maintenance guy, Lucas, pulling them out and looking at the jar. He's a quiet guy... little smelly, but who wouldn't be after hours of scrubbing commodes and emptying constantly overflowing trash cans. He stared at them for a minute with a look of confusion, then I watched as he opened the lid and smelled them. A smile spread across his face like he had just found a fantastic treat and he slipped the jar into the oversized pocket of his coveralls.
As I walked out of the office for the night I patted Lucas on the back. "Thanks for all you do, buddy." I said. He gave a humble smile but didn't make eye contact. "Hey, you know, we should start a recycling program here or something. Help out the environment a bit." He looked up at me and I could see his eyes for the first time. They were a light grey with a faint hint of blue around the edges. The lines on his face showed years of care mixed with frustration. He made some sound that I would best describe as a "harrumph" and gave me a look as though he assumed I was joking or making fun of him. I imagine he's had a lot of that in life. I smiled sincerely and pointed at the trash can. "I'm serious, look at what you've got there." I said, gesturing to the contents of the can. "All those soda cans, tons of bottles, shucks most of that is actually worth something. I bet you could set up a program that would not only pay for itself, but put a little extra money in your pocket." His eyes moved to the can, and his face seemed to say "I'd never thought of that before." I patted him on the shoulder as I turned to go out the door. "There's a recycling place not far from my apartment, I'll get their information for you." He smiled at me as I walked out the door and I could see he was missing at least one tooth and several more looked like they could use a good scrubbing and a few fillings.
As I walked to the train station I stopped and grabbed a hot dog at a roadside cart. I can't imagine how Lucas feels at the end of the day. He puts up with all our garbage and mess, never complaining, and with no hope of promotion or advancement. I smiled as I thought of the bath salts concealed in his pocket and imagined his dirty smile as he soaked in a luxurious tub full of pink bubbles. I could hardly stop myself from laughing as I bit into my dog.
I walked into the house and put down my bag, heading right for the bedroom. Slipping into a clean pair of khakis and sliding my golf shirt on, I grabbed my clubs and headed out the door. My neighbor, Ted, was waiting out front in his sedan, trunk open and a big smile on his face. "Ready?" he said eagerly as I dropped the bag onto his in the back. He slammed the trunk and we both hopped in the car.
It was a perfect evening, not too warm and the sun was just beginning to drop in the sky, giving the air an almost grey quality. As we stepped out onto the driving range of our local course I listened to Ted taking about some investment strategy he was creating at work for his clients and nodded politely. I stared out at the falling sun and felt the day's last hint of heat coming from the brilliant yellow sun. The horizon was turning a shade of orange with just a hint of pink. The color almost perfectly resembled the bath salts and I smiled as I thought of Tracy's eyes connected to mine. I swung my club and watched the ball sail out toward the sunset, smiling at the satisfaction of a near perfect day.
"Hey, are you even listening?" I heard Ted ask as he stepped in front of me. I took a step back, surprised that I hadn't even heard a word he'd said. His annoyance with my lack of attention quickly changed as he saw my face. "What?" I asked, slightly embarrassed to know I'd completely zoned him out. "You got something on your mind." He said. "And if I didn't know better I would say you were in love."
The next day at work Lucas showed up smelling like Jeff's bath salts. Dwayne, the large man sitting in the cube next to Jeff won't let him live it down either. He keeps asking if Jeff and Lucas are dating. Jeff refuses to even acknowledge the taunts, wearing his oversized earphones that resemble Princess Leia's hair buns from the first Star Wars movie.
Even Tracy is in on it, laughing out loud every time Dwayne says something. I guess she wants to make it clear that she is NOT interested in him. Hopefully he gets the message and will leave her alone. He's been doing everything but stalking her for almost a year now. You'd think he could take a hint!
Tracy stopped Lucas as he pushed his cart by her desk. "I think you smell good today Lucas." She says, smiling at him. He laughed politely and smiled back. "I hate this smell, but my skin does feel fantastic." He pushes up his sleeve and Tracy rubs her hand along his furry forearm, a look of mock approval mixed with pretend surprise. They both look at Jeff and laugh at the sour pout on his lips. I hear Lucas whisper something to Tracy that looks like an apology and she nods as though whatever he'd done wasn't a problem at all. "I actually just did it to make Jeff feel stupid." He says to her quietly. "Well it sure seems to have worked." Tracy replies with a smile.
Weird thing- maybe nothing, but Lucas didn't exactly seem... well... clean. You'd think a guy that soaked in a tub of Lavender would look less grungy, but it didn't look like he'd even got wet. He definitely smelled like the bath salts Jeff gave Tracy... Maybe he just rubbed them all over his jumpsuit or something.
As I walked out of the office for the night I patted Lucas on the back. "Thanks for all you do, buddy." I said. He gave a humble smile but didn't make eye contact. "Hey, you know, we should start a recycling program here or something. Help out the environment a bit." He looked up at me and I could see his eyes for the first time. They were a light grey with a faint hint of blue around the edges. The lines on his face showed years of care mixed with frustration. He made some sound that I would best describe as a "harrumph" and gave me a look as though he assumed I was joking or making fun of him. I imagine he's had a lot of that in life. I smiled sincerely and pointed at the trash can. "I'm serious, look at what you've got there." I said, gesturing to the contents of the can. "All those soda cans, tons of bottles, shucks most of that is actually worth something. I bet you could set up a program that would not only pay for itself, but put a little extra money in your pocket." His eyes moved to the can, and his face seemed to say "I'd never thought of that before." I patted him on the shoulder as I turned to go out the door. "There's a recycling place not far from my apartment, I'll get their information for you." He smiled at me as I walked out the door and I could see he was missing at least one tooth and several more looked like they could use a good scrubbing and a few fillings.
As I walked to the train station I stopped and grabbed a hot dog at a roadside cart. I can't imagine how Lucas feels at the end of the day. He puts up with all our garbage and mess, never complaining, and with no hope of promotion or advancement. I smiled as I thought of the bath salts concealed in his pocket and imagined his dirty smile as he soaked in a luxurious tub full of pink bubbles. I could hardly stop myself from laughing as I bit into my dog.
I walked into the house and put down my bag, heading right for the bedroom. Slipping into a clean pair of khakis and sliding my golf shirt on, I grabbed my clubs and headed out the door. My neighbor, Ted, was waiting out front in his sedan, trunk open and a big smile on his face. "Ready?" he said eagerly as I dropped the bag onto his in the back. He slammed the trunk and we both hopped in the car.
It was a perfect evening, not too warm and the sun was just beginning to drop in the sky, giving the air an almost grey quality. As we stepped out onto the driving range of our local course I listened to Ted taking about some investment strategy he was creating at work for his clients and nodded politely. I stared out at the falling sun and felt the day's last hint of heat coming from the brilliant yellow sun. The horizon was turning a shade of orange with just a hint of pink. The color almost perfectly resembled the bath salts and I smiled as I thought of Tracy's eyes connected to mine. I swung my club and watched the ball sail out toward the sunset, smiling at the satisfaction of a near perfect day.
"Hey, are you even listening?" I heard Ted ask as he stepped in front of me. I took a step back, surprised that I hadn't even heard a word he'd said. His annoyance with my lack of attention quickly changed as he saw my face. "What?" I asked, slightly embarrassed to know I'd completely zoned him out. "You got something on your mind." He said. "And if I didn't know better I would say you were in love."
The next day at work Lucas showed up smelling like Jeff's bath salts. Dwayne, the large man sitting in the cube next to Jeff won't let him live it down either. He keeps asking if Jeff and Lucas are dating. Jeff refuses to even acknowledge the taunts, wearing his oversized earphones that resemble Princess Leia's hair buns from the first Star Wars movie.
Even Tracy is in on it, laughing out loud every time Dwayne says something. I guess she wants to make it clear that she is NOT interested in him. Hopefully he gets the message and will leave her alone. He's been doing everything but stalking her for almost a year now. You'd think he could take a hint!
Tracy stopped Lucas as he pushed his cart by her desk. "I think you smell good today Lucas." She says, smiling at him. He laughed politely and smiled back. "I hate this smell, but my skin does feel fantastic." He pushes up his sleeve and Tracy rubs her hand along his furry forearm, a look of mock approval mixed with pretend surprise. They both look at Jeff and laugh at the sour pout on his lips. I hear Lucas whisper something to Tracy that looks like an apology and she nods as though whatever he'd done wasn't a problem at all. "I actually just did it to make Jeff feel stupid." He says to her quietly. "Well it sure seems to have worked." Tracy replies with a smile.
Weird thing- maybe nothing, but Lucas didn't exactly seem... well... clean. You'd think a guy that soaked in a tub of Lavender would look less grungy, but it didn't look like he'd even got wet. He definitely smelled like the bath salts Jeff gave Tracy... Maybe he just rubbed them all over his jumpsuit or something.
Chapter 2- Backfire
I can't believe what an idiot Jeff is. He continues to hit on the manager of the accounting department. She has never shown any interest in him, at least not that I have seen. I have heard her demand he get back to his desk a few times, and while he doesn't report to her, she outranks him and could easily get him fired for sexual harassment. It doesn't seem to phase him though. Today she showed up to work and there was a present on her desk, all wrapped up in pink tissue paper. It was ridiculous enough to draw a crowd, and while I didn't normally participate in such spectacles, I decided to walk over and see what all the fuss was about. Everyone knows it was Jeff, even before she looked at the card. He's the only one who would attempt something like that with someone so completely out of his league.
Tracy is stunning. I can't fault Jeff for being enamored with her. Medium height, athletically built, with clean, honest good looks. I'm sure she makes other girls furious with her simple beauty, her ability to roll out of bed and look amazing without any makeup, and what little makeup she does wear is applied lightly and tastefully. In my opinion she's the most attractive woman I've ever seen, let alone in the office, which explains why she is the target of Jeff's and everyone else's attention. I wonder if he knows about the guy she's been dating in the marketing department. I assume they are dating, but maybe not. I think they try and keep their relationship a secret. I've seen them talking around the office, they sit next to each other in the conference room, and I thought I saw him kiss her after walking her to her car after work a few weeks back. I'm not the jealous type, and in this case I have no right to be, especially since I've not spoken more than two or three words to her outside of work related issues.
So here we all are, a crowd gathered Tracy's desk. The men in the crowd all have their eyes glued to her, she looks stunning today in a dark pinstripe pantsuit, and the women are all scowling a bit. I assume they are envious of her, not just for her appearance, but the small gift left on her desk and not theirs, but curiosity roots them to their spot, eyes fixed on the soft pink tissue paper and tasteful purple satin ribbon tied loosely around the top.
Jeff is rocking back and forth on his heels in gleeful anticipation. Whatever is inside that lovely little package is filling him with a lot of joy. Since he is the only one with such eagerness on his face, everyone knows it must be from him.
Tracy opens the card, reading aloud "I'd never eat such a pretty face." And grimacing as though the horrible phrasing brought her actual pain. The group rolls their eyes and all look at Jeff, whose red cheeks betray the look of feigned innocence on his face. Finally, he smiles and nods and points back at her, as though the best is yet to come.
As Tracy opens the package I hear several groans. It must be something tasteless, because Jeff looks positively triumphant. One woman slaps him in the arm and curses at him before storming off, and several of the guys turn their heads, bursting into laughter as they walk away. Those in the back are now clambering for a peek, dodging their heads left and right, eagerly wanting to be part of the joke or to participate in the mockery. Tracy holds up a stout glass jar with a silver lid, full of crystalized pink material. I'm standing behind two people but she locks eyes with me and rotates the jar so I can see the label. "Bath Salts" is says in clear block lettering. She shrugs at me, half smiling. I'm unable to stop from staring in her amazing green eyes and she keeps looking into mine, as though curious to see my reaction. Before I can say anything the HR lady grabs the jar and says "the managers are going to hear about this Jeff." Tracy looks at the HR lady and back at me, giving me a look as though the two of us just got Jeff in trouble. I smile back, but am perplexed. She's never said much to me before, yet here we are, in a room full of people, looking at each other as though the room were empty.
The HR lady demands that Tracy follow her to her office to "write a formal report" and practically drags Jeff by the ear like a naughty school boy. As I walk back to my desk I cannot help but watch Tracy leave, and for a moment I thought I saw her glance back at me before turning around the corner.
Tracy is stunning. I can't fault Jeff for being enamored with her. Medium height, athletically built, with clean, honest good looks. I'm sure she makes other girls furious with her simple beauty, her ability to roll out of bed and look amazing without any makeup, and what little makeup she does wear is applied lightly and tastefully. In my opinion she's the most attractive woman I've ever seen, let alone in the office, which explains why she is the target of Jeff's and everyone else's attention. I wonder if he knows about the guy she's been dating in the marketing department. I assume they are dating, but maybe not. I think they try and keep their relationship a secret. I've seen them talking around the office, they sit next to each other in the conference room, and I thought I saw him kiss her after walking her to her car after work a few weeks back. I'm not the jealous type, and in this case I have no right to be, especially since I've not spoken more than two or three words to her outside of work related issues.
So here we all are, a crowd gathered Tracy's desk. The men in the crowd all have their eyes glued to her, she looks stunning today in a dark pinstripe pantsuit, and the women are all scowling a bit. I assume they are envious of her, not just for her appearance, but the small gift left on her desk and not theirs, but curiosity roots them to their spot, eyes fixed on the soft pink tissue paper and tasteful purple satin ribbon tied loosely around the top.
Jeff is rocking back and forth on his heels in gleeful anticipation. Whatever is inside that lovely little package is filling him with a lot of joy. Since he is the only one with such eagerness on his face, everyone knows it must be from him.
Tracy opens the card, reading aloud "I'd never eat such a pretty face." And grimacing as though the horrible phrasing brought her actual pain. The group rolls their eyes and all look at Jeff, whose red cheeks betray the look of feigned innocence on his face. Finally, he smiles and nods and points back at her, as though the best is yet to come.
As Tracy opens the package I hear several groans. It must be something tasteless, because Jeff looks positively triumphant. One woman slaps him in the arm and curses at him before storming off, and several of the guys turn their heads, bursting into laughter as they walk away. Those in the back are now clambering for a peek, dodging their heads left and right, eagerly wanting to be part of the joke or to participate in the mockery. Tracy holds up a stout glass jar with a silver lid, full of crystalized pink material. I'm standing behind two people but she locks eyes with me and rotates the jar so I can see the label. "Bath Salts" is says in clear block lettering. She shrugs at me, half smiling. I'm unable to stop from staring in her amazing green eyes and she keeps looking into mine, as though curious to see my reaction. Before I can say anything the HR lady grabs the jar and says "the managers are going to hear about this Jeff." Tracy looks at the HR lady and back at me, giving me a look as though the two of us just got Jeff in trouble. I smile back, but am perplexed. She's never said much to me before, yet here we are, in a room full of people, looking at each other as though the room were empty.
The HR lady demands that Tracy follow her to her office to "write a formal report" and practically drags Jeff by the ear like a naughty school boy. As I walk back to my desk I cannot help but watch Tracy leave, and for a moment I thought I saw her glance back at me before turning around the corner.
Chapter 1- The Cannibal
I'm an internet savvy guy I guess. I'm not on the web all day like some, idling my time away on meaningless YouTube videos or sharing dozens of memes, but I know what's going on. I don't watch the news, mainly because of the garbage they choose to report on. It seems like every time I turn it on its the same thing. Some overly made up newscaster is talking about how some person is accused of child abuse during a tsunami, but first, she wants to tell us about some cute human interest story, like a woman who knits sweaters for cats or a house made completely of sporks. Its garbage like that makes me avoid the news altogether. To be honest, I don't really need it. These days, twitter and facebook will tell you anything truly important. If its happening chances are someone will post their opinion about it. From the dozens of high school classmates I'm "friends" with to past work associates, ex-girlfriends and former roommates, I've got a whole slew of acquaintances who keep me in the loop on current events. Besides, its not like anything big ever does anyway, not since the towers fell. There have been events, natural disasters, the war with Iraq, and of course the economic decline, but nothing that kept anyone glued to the TV for more than a few minutes.
That's where the internet comes in for me. If I see some co-worker posting their frustration about the "situation in Dallas" I can just do a search on twitter for "Dallas" and read all about it, from expert opinions to news articles, the like. I can sift through all the garbage and decide for myself what I believe about a given topic. Its almost like a slew of lawyers presenting evidence before me, and I get to judge. Its the way of the world, really, and the mobile device that never leaves my side feeds it to me in easy to digest portions.
I made my usual breakfast of a grapefruit, peeled like an orange and two slices of toast with apricot preserves. As I sat down in my cozy little apartment I propped my phone above my plate, so I could read my feeds without worrying about dripping on my device. One mom was proud of her 1st grader, another Dad posted pictures of his recent daddy daughter date. Nothing unusual. I glanced in the mirror and held my last piece of toast in my teeth, freeing my hands to hold my keys, phone, and turn the handle of the door.
The walk to the metro was brisk. The evening cold hadn't quite left the morning air, even though the sun was high enough in the sky to feel like full daytime. As I hustled down the steps I pulled the magnetic card from my wallet and slid it through the reader, using my thighs to rotate the bar and let me into the station.
I stepped out onto the platform and smiled. The damp smell of a subway station always made me smile. I liked cities. There was something comforting about being surrounded by all that concrete and metal. My hair started to move as I felt the wind from the oncoming train. I leaned into it, turning my face toward the dark tunnel. As the lights came into view I thought I saw the silhouette of a person standing on the tracks, about 50 feet away. I heard a few ladies gasp as the train approached the figure rapidly and just as suddenly as it appeared it was gone. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Was it some worker? A bum? The train didn't even attempt to slow down, and as it arrived in the station there was nothing on the front of it to indicate that someone had been hit. It rushed past me and the ladies stepped aside to allow the other passengers to debark. One woman looked at me and smiled. "It was nothing I guess." She said almost apologetically, as though her gasp had offended or frightened me. "I guess not." I replied with a smile, and followed her onto the train, holding onto the railing above.
The train rushed on its way, full of people paying absolutely no attention to each other. Some looked at phones, texting or catching up on whatever social media stream they preferred, others simply sat in silence, staring into space as though mentally steeling themselves for another day of drudgery. I glanced down at the man sitting below me, reading the NewYork Times on his iPad. He was scanning an article that caught my eye. "Zombie attacks man in Florida." I turned my head slightly to read the text but my movement must have caught his eye, because he immediately turned the device off and slipped it into his bag, giving me a sideways glance full of disdain.
I instinctively moved toward the door as we approached my stop, and found myself shoulder to shoulder with the same woman from earlier. She gave me a polite smile and I nodded, turning my shoulder so she could move ahead of me. As the door opened the crowd moved out in one mass of bodies, rubbing shoulders and squeezing past the slower or older people. I held my hand on my back pocket, protecting my wallet from would be pick pocketers. As I ascended the stairs I squinted at the bright sun streaming into the opening. The air was warmer already, and the sun felt good on my skin. I walked down the street toward the office, looking around at the people and shops just beginning to bustle with activity.
I purposefully give myself a little extra time in the mornings. I hear my co-workers always complaining about how rushed they feel as they prepare for the day or how they were running so late they had to drive to work rather than take the train. I didn't want that kind of frustration in my life, so I got up early each day and made sure I had a little extra time. Some days I would step into Mario's Cafe and get a chocolate chip croissant. Other days I might walk around the block to the park and check e-mail while sitting under the trees. It was my way of making sure I had the time I needed to start a stress free day.
I saw our HR lady sitting in a sidewalk cafe just a block away from the office. I smiled and and nodded at her. I knew her face but not her name, and I'm sure she was the same with me. She smiled politely and looked back at her phone where she was probably checking e-mail or posting a picture of her bagel on Instagram.
I took the steps up rather than the elevator, two at a time. I arrived at our floor and pulled on the metal handle of the large double door. Walking past the secretary I pushed my wallet against the black box to the left of a door marked "employees only" and heard the familiar click of the magnetic lock releasing the door from its position. I pulled on the handle and felt the heavy door open easily, its weight supported by the gas powered piston above.
Most everyone was in already, checking e-mail or fumbling through the papers on their desk. The low hum of morning chit chat stayed in the back of my ears like the sound of a beehive. I walked past Jeff's desk and saw him reading something on a web page. "Florida man killed by police while trying to eat another man's face." I wondered if it was the same article I'd seen on the train. My curiosity was peaked, and I pulled out my phone as I sat down at my desk. Opening up my twitter app I did a quick search for "bath salts" and saw a long list of posts linking to various news sources. Selecting one that seemed credible I glanced through the article. Apparently some man had been found eating the face of some other guy, and wouldn't stop even when police threatened to shoot him.
"Yep, it's zombies!" Jeff says over the din of regular business. A rumbling groan emanates from the cubes around us, and heard Jeff's annoyed reply "What? Its all over the web, I'm not making it up!" An e-mail from Jeff pops up in the bottom corner of my screen, and I open it to see he's sent it to everyone in the office. There are links to three different news stories about the attack, and I hear him say "read it for yourself."
Jeff is our resident geek and conspiracy theorist. He's short, thin, and pale, and wears thick black glasses. He's always wearing tee shirts with some comic book character or computer themed humor, and has this mistaken belief that any day now the women in the office will see how amazing he is and swoon in collective adoration. He's annoying, speaks his mind, and has almost no sense of tact, but he's rarely wrong, a fact he rather enjoys flaunting to his co-workers, especially Dwayne, a large African American man who sits directly across from him.
Whatever the complaint before, after Jeff's e-mail the whole office is now buzzing about this attack in florida. Its stuff like this that makes me not want to even read news these days. The fact that some dude would eat bath salts is gross in the first place- I hate the way those things smell and someone actually had the stupidity to EAT them? What an idiot. Jeff won't stop talking about it. Now that everyone believes him he keeps coming over to my office with "new updates" like he's personally breaking the story. He keeps saying "What if its really zombies!" as though he's excited about the prospect of our local graveyards emptying out and their residents dining on our brains. What a load of garbage. Today's credibility has given him the excuse to talk to all the girls in the office again too. I heard him telling Tracy in accounting how the government is just covering up the story with an excuse about bath salts so they don't induce widespread panic. He probably wishes Zombies were real so she would think her options might become limited enough to consider going out with him. What a loser.
I tried to concentrate on my work but found my mind continually returning to the article I'd read. Why the heck would that guy actually EAT someone's face off? Jeff said the police shot him and he didn't even stop eating that dude's face until they shot him in the head. He says its proof the guys was a zombie, not just some druggie. I do my best to concentrate on my work but find it almost impossible. Bath salts. So weird.
That's where the internet comes in for me. If I see some co-worker posting their frustration about the "situation in Dallas" I can just do a search on twitter for "Dallas" and read all about it, from expert opinions to news articles, the like. I can sift through all the garbage and decide for myself what I believe about a given topic. Its almost like a slew of lawyers presenting evidence before me, and I get to judge. Its the way of the world, really, and the mobile device that never leaves my side feeds it to me in easy to digest portions.
I made my usual breakfast of a grapefruit, peeled like an orange and two slices of toast with apricot preserves. As I sat down in my cozy little apartment I propped my phone above my plate, so I could read my feeds without worrying about dripping on my device. One mom was proud of her 1st grader, another Dad posted pictures of his recent daddy daughter date. Nothing unusual. I glanced in the mirror and held my last piece of toast in my teeth, freeing my hands to hold my keys, phone, and turn the handle of the door.
The walk to the metro was brisk. The evening cold hadn't quite left the morning air, even though the sun was high enough in the sky to feel like full daytime. As I hustled down the steps I pulled the magnetic card from my wallet and slid it through the reader, using my thighs to rotate the bar and let me into the station.
I stepped out onto the platform and smiled. The damp smell of a subway station always made me smile. I liked cities. There was something comforting about being surrounded by all that concrete and metal. My hair started to move as I felt the wind from the oncoming train. I leaned into it, turning my face toward the dark tunnel. As the lights came into view I thought I saw the silhouette of a person standing on the tracks, about 50 feet away. I heard a few ladies gasp as the train approached the figure rapidly and just as suddenly as it appeared it was gone. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Was it some worker? A bum? The train didn't even attempt to slow down, and as it arrived in the station there was nothing on the front of it to indicate that someone had been hit. It rushed past me and the ladies stepped aside to allow the other passengers to debark. One woman looked at me and smiled. "It was nothing I guess." She said almost apologetically, as though her gasp had offended or frightened me. "I guess not." I replied with a smile, and followed her onto the train, holding onto the railing above.
The train rushed on its way, full of people paying absolutely no attention to each other. Some looked at phones, texting or catching up on whatever social media stream they preferred, others simply sat in silence, staring into space as though mentally steeling themselves for another day of drudgery. I glanced down at the man sitting below me, reading the NewYork Times on his iPad. He was scanning an article that caught my eye. "Zombie attacks man in Florida." I turned my head slightly to read the text but my movement must have caught his eye, because he immediately turned the device off and slipped it into his bag, giving me a sideways glance full of disdain.
I instinctively moved toward the door as we approached my stop, and found myself shoulder to shoulder with the same woman from earlier. She gave me a polite smile and I nodded, turning my shoulder so she could move ahead of me. As the door opened the crowd moved out in one mass of bodies, rubbing shoulders and squeezing past the slower or older people. I held my hand on my back pocket, protecting my wallet from would be pick pocketers. As I ascended the stairs I squinted at the bright sun streaming into the opening. The air was warmer already, and the sun felt good on my skin. I walked down the street toward the office, looking around at the people and shops just beginning to bustle with activity.
I purposefully give myself a little extra time in the mornings. I hear my co-workers always complaining about how rushed they feel as they prepare for the day or how they were running so late they had to drive to work rather than take the train. I didn't want that kind of frustration in my life, so I got up early each day and made sure I had a little extra time. Some days I would step into Mario's Cafe and get a chocolate chip croissant. Other days I might walk around the block to the park and check e-mail while sitting under the trees. It was my way of making sure I had the time I needed to start a stress free day.
I saw our HR lady sitting in a sidewalk cafe just a block away from the office. I smiled and and nodded at her. I knew her face but not her name, and I'm sure she was the same with me. She smiled politely and looked back at her phone where she was probably checking e-mail or posting a picture of her bagel on Instagram.
I took the steps up rather than the elevator, two at a time. I arrived at our floor and pulled on the metal handle of the large double door. Walking past the secretary I pushed my wallet against the black box to the left of a door marked "employees only" and heard the familiar click of the magnetic lock releasing the door from its position. I pulled on the handle and felt the heavy door open easily, its weight supported by the gas powered piston above.
Most everyone was in already, checking e-mail or fumbling through the papers on their desk. The low hum of morning chit chat stayed in the back of my ears like the sound of a beehive. I walked past Jeff's desk and saw him reading something on a web page. "Florida man killed by police while trying to eat another man's face." I wondered if it was the same article I'd seen on the train. My curiosity was peaked, and I pulled out my phone as I sat down at my desk. Opening up my twitter app I did a quick search for "bath salts" and saw a long list of posts linking to various news sources. Selecting one that seemed credible I glanced through the article. Apparently some man had been found eating the face of some other guy, and wouldn't stop even when police threatened to shoot him.
"Yep, it's zombies!" Jeff says over the din of regular business. A rumbling groan emanates from the cubes around us, and heard Jeff's annoyed reply "What? Its all over the web, I'm not making it up!" An e-mail from Jeff pops up in the bottom corner of my screen, and I open it to see he's sent it to everyone in the office. There are links to three different news stories about the attack, and I hear him say "read it for yourself."
Jeff is our resident geek and conspiracy theorist. He's short, thin, and pale, and wears thick black glasses. He's always wearing tee shirts with some comic book character or computer themed humor, and has this mistaken belief that any day now the women in the office will see how amazing he is and swoon in collective adoration. He's annoying, speaks his mind, and has almost no sense of tact, but he's rarely wrong, a fact he rather enjoys flaunting to his co-workers, especially Dwayne, a large African American man who sits directly across from him.
Whatever the complaint before, after Jeff's e-mail the whole office is now buzzing about this attack in florida. Its stuff like this that makes me not want to even read news these days. The fact that some dude would eat bath salts is gross in the first place- I hate the way those things smell and someone actually had the stupidity to EAT them? What an idiot. Jeff won't stop talking about it. Now that everyone believes him he keeps coming over to my office with "new updates" like he's personally breaking the story. He keeps saying "What if its really zombies!" as though he's excited about the prospect of our local graveyards emptying out and their residents dining on our brains. What a load of garbage. Today's credibility has given him the excuse to talk to all the girls in the office again too. I heard him telling Tracy in accounting how the government is just covering up the story with an excuse about bath salts so they don't induce widespread panic. He probably wishes Zombies were real so she would think her options might become limited enough to consider going out with him. What a loser.
I tried to concentrate on my work but found my mind continually returning to the article I'd read. Why the heck would that guy actually EAT someone's face off? Jeff said the police shot him and he didn't even stop eating that dude's face until they shot him in the head. He says its proof the guys was a zombie, not just some druggie. I do my best to concentrate on my work but find it almost impossible. Bath salts. So weird.
Chapter 0- In the beginning...
I'm not a hero. I'm just one of those simple guys who does the best he can at his job and tries to live a good life. I'm not into extravagant cars or fancy dinners. I'd just as soon relax at home and enjoy a good book as go out with friends. Freinds. That's an interesting concept. Being such a quiet person I didn't have many, and with all that's happened there's almost no one left to be friends with anymore anyway. Friends are now a luxury we cannot afford. But I remember better times, times when we could enjoy life a little. I wasn't particularly close to anyone, at least not at first. These events tend to bring people together, you know? I had work acquaintances, the people I sit near and interact with on a regular basis, but back before it all started there was no one I'd consider a close "friend." You know, someone I would spend time after work with. It was lonely, but I kept busy. I read, went for drives, exercise, stuff like that. All in all, I lived a pretty ordinary life.
I heard someone say once that those with the most ordinary lives are given an opportunity to be extraordinary. I can't say that happened to me, and if it did, I might have missed it, but I did meet someone that helped me become a better person. I met her right before the world changed completely, and she changed me completely too.
This is my story, its a story of survival and struggle. Its about loss, some of it very personal loss, but mostly how I did my very best to do what was right. Its hard to live in a society without morals, and when that society begins to crumble, it takes someone special to be willing to stick to those morals. Looking back I think I did the best I could to hold on as long as possible, but I had help. She helped me.
Well, this is my story. Its not a cheerful one. Like anyone's life I have moments where I laugh, others where I cry. In the end, I... Well, you'll just need to read. I hope what I've recorded here will help you survive what's become of the world we all once loved. I can hardly remember it now, its changed so much, but reading back helps me remember that it wasn't all death and decay. This chronicles the events leading up to what happened. You all know how it ends, but many of you don't know how it began. I do. I was there. Welcome to the beginning of the end. Welcome to... the PrePocalypse.
I heard someone say once that those with the most ordinary lives are given an opportunity to be extraordinary. I can't say that happened to me, and if it did, I might have missed it, but I did meet someone that helped me become a better person. I met her right before the world changed completely, and she changed me completely too.
This is my story, its a story of survival and struggle. Its about loss, some of it very personal loss, but mostly how I did my very best to do what was right. Its hard to live in a society without morals, and when that society begins to crumble, it takes someone special to be willing to stick to those morals. Looking back I think I did the best I could to hold on as long as possible, but I had help. She helped me.
Well, this is my story. Its not a cheerful one. Like anyone's life I have moments where I laugh, others where I cry. In the end, I... Well, you'll just need to read. I hope what I've recorded here will help you survive what's become of the world we all once loved. I can hardly remember it now, its changed so much, but reading back helps me remember that it wasn't all death and decay. This chronicles the events leading up to what happened. You all know how it ends, but many of you don't know how it began. I do. I was there. Welcome to the beginning of the end. Welcome to... the PrePocalypse.
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