by Al K. Line
"Um, are we ready for this then? I was kind of expecting to have to walk down the stairs. This is happening now guys, we set? Anyone need a loo break? A cuppa? An extra set of balls? Or some to start with for me?" She was definitely feeling jittery. She knew she was babbling like she was back on her first date with Simon the class hunk.
"Let's just get this over with," said Kyle. Things were already moving faster than he thought they would. Less time to think though, which wasn't so bad.
"Let us go and do the shopping," Al said enthusiastically.
Does this man have no fear at all? thought Ven.
He did, but only when it came to clowns. Al hated clowns.
Ven pressed the button for the basement level. The doors closed behind them with a whisper.
Basement Jaxx
Irritating elevator muzak sucked at their energy as they stood cramped nervously in the metal box. Al seemed to have grown, taking up all available space. The rest squashed in around him where they could. Ven tried not to stab anyone with her sword and Kyle kept his arms firmly by his side.
Everyone held their breath, including Tomas, as Bos Bos had totally fouled the air with his nervous bum burp.
Ding.
They stared at each other, muscles tensed and senses straining, trying to prepare mentally for what may face them on the other side of the doors.
They opened quietly, the soul sapping muzak escaping out into the cold... and the dark.
Kyle took a step forward and a series of lights turned on. It startled them all, apart from Bos Bos who seemed unperturbed and just wandered off to the left.
Bos Bos had much better eyesight than humans, one of the many advantages dogs have over people. He smelled food, obviously assuming it had been left for him. Why else would it be there on the seat?
"Bos Bos?" hissed Ven into the void. Nothing.
"Boscoe, you come here right now," ordered Ven with a whisper.
Bos Bos trotted back reluctantly, a slight rumble coming from his hollow belly.
"You stay close to us, alright? If you do Al will give you a lovely cheese sandwich in a little bit. So you be a good boy."
Bos Bos wagged agreeably, and stared doe-eyed at Al.
"Woof?"
"Not yet tubby, in some minutes we will be having the sandwiches." Al's belly rumbled loud, he hoped it was the time for eating of food very soon.
"Jeez Al, it's only been like what, ten minutes or so since you ate?"
"I am needing the food for doing the zombie fighting," protested Al.
"Look, let's just see where everything is first shall we. It's really bloody dark down here," said Ven, trying to adjust to the gloom outside of the pool of light around the elevators.
Their eye-sight slowly began to adjust, pupils dilating, taking stock of their surroundings as best they could. In front of them was yet another security checkpoint. Unmanned like the one on the ground floor. The elevators were not used by the workforce for the warehouse department, there were numerous access points from the rear of the building that led directly to the warehouse level, the elevators normally reserved for visitors being shown around and middle-management types that worked on the levels above ground. Some visitors were less than savory characters, hence the need for security checks. Not to mention to guard against theft.
They walked to the edge of the pool of light, just past security. Another series of lights came on. Those behind them turned off a few seconds later.
"It's all motion detector lighting," said Kyle. "They do this in loads of warehouses now to cut down costs. It also makes the pickers and packers work faster too. Less to distract them." He was right. Productivity had gone up by 19% when the system had been changed over to motion detectors. Not only were goods picked and packed faster, but the lighting bill was also reduced significantly. Never mind that it had a detrimental effect on the mental health of the mostly minimum wage employees, profits increased and there were always more than enough people looking for work these days.
"It's really spooky," said Ven. "Makes you think something could just grab you by the shoulder and— Fuck! What was that?" Ven almost jumped out of her skin, the cooled sweat beading again on her forehead. She spun with sword in hand.
"It's just me Ven, calm down. You're really jumpy today, you know that?" Kyle had just put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down.
"Jesus Kyle, you freaked me out. Don't do that again please," Ven was nervous. But she had a right to be. She had her young baby with her, now wondering whether she had made the right decision by coming with the others to get the protection they so sorely needed if they were to stay one step ahead in this ravaged new world.
"It's a bit gloomy isn't it, even for the workers that are used to it?" said Kyle. The new pool of light reaching just far enough to let them glimpse the beginning of a large array of desks and monitors. Where supervisors were stationed and ran their own crews from, doling out instructions on a very regular basis.
"Must be the default for the back-up power supply," said Ven. "Normally when places go to reserve power anything that is not needed will turn off. The sensor lights still let peeps do their jobs but all the rest will be off. Makes sense." Ven was right, power went out relatively quickly after the botnet was unleashed, but the whole building had its own back-up generators and battery storage so could run for months without the grid. Anything superfluous to needs was off, so illumination was only provided for areas that were occupied. Very low level lighting was on in many areas, it was just they had not had time to get used to the gloom yet. Slowly, as their eyes adjusted, they could see that the very low power lighting that stayed on was enough to see by once you had been down in the warehouse for more than a few minutes.
"Make sure you don't stare at the main bulbs and your eyesight will adjust quicker," guided Ven.
So, obviously, both Kyle and Al stared up at the lights illuminating where they stood and immediately went half blind.
"Jeez, what did I just tell you guys?"
"Be fair Ven, it's like wearing a blue wig and then saying don't look at my hair. It's one of those things it's imposable not to do," complained Kyle, trying to adjust to the gloom again. "You may as well have given us a donut and said not to lick our lips."
"Did you be saying we have the donuts for eating?" inquired Al as his belly did somersaults.
"Sorry big guy, no donuts." Ven wondered again how they had all survived so long, she really did despair at times.
Their eyes began to become properly accustomed to the moody interior and slowly they began to get a general idea of where they were. The place appeared to be vast. They had only walked a handful of meters from the elevators. Past the security checkpoint were rows of supervisor tables and to the left were all kinds of usual warehouse items. Racks of rolled paper, parked vehicles set to charge, doors to offices and a canteen, lavatories and more. All pretty innocuous and basic, but spookily clean and antiseptic. There were various signs at mid height on the racks in their immediate vicinity, but the rows stretched out on all sides and receded far back into the distance.
This was big business a lot of people never even knew existed. The fear of society breaking down, or personal home invasion, had seen a massive rise in sales for all kinds of survivalist equipment. The Web certainly had a lot to do with both the increase in sales and the levels of paranoia the British people felt. The impossibility of getting your hands on a legal hand weapon of any sort meant people were doing their best to get not only what protective equipment they could, but were also buying all manner of weaponry that was currently legal, if somewhat ineffective if put up against real bullets.
They took a few steps forward, another set of lights blinking on annoyingly.
Al reacted in an instant. Out of the corner of his eye, a split-second before Ven and Kyle saw it, he caught sight of man in full riot gear: helmet, gas mask, body armor, kickass gun, shield, the whole shebang. Al charged at him, roaring, and tackled him to the ground. He ripped at
the face and began to pummel him with all his might.
His fist went right through the jaw. Al howled as he badly bruised his hand on the polished concrete floor beneath, his knuckles already beading blood where he scraped them.
Al's roar echoed around the cavernous room, singing out against the towering metal racking.
Bos Bos tore at a trouser leg, finally dragging a detached foot away to prove his assault prowess when it came to plastic foes.
The exhibition mannequin didn't put up a fight against such a vicious onslaught.
"That'll teach him not to mess with you dude," sighed a relieved Kyle.
"I am thinking that was making me feel a little bit of a silly man," said Al, hanging his head and smiling sheepishly.
"At least you reacted quickly Al. Good job sweetie," said Ven. It may have been unnecessary but at least Al had good reflexes and was prepared to attack without a second thought. "Only problem is that if there are any zombies down here I am guessing that they will have heard us now, so stay sharp."
"Let's see if we can sort out these bloody lights too shall we. It's going to be a nightmare for everyone if we keep having to deal with not being able to see bugger all every few steps, it's a bloody stupid system if you ask me. They must have some kind of override to give better background light, surely?"
"I don't think so Kyle, I think this is it. We need to just get used to it. If the place is on back-up power then this is how it works. Even with grid power it wouldn't have been any brighter apart from in always occupied spaces. Once we get into the aisles the motion sensors would be all there was. We can take a look though," said Ven, pointing to the wall at a right angle to the elevators. A set of doors led to the communal rooms and a series of more private office spaces for those deemed worthy.
They trudged back over, staying alert and looking for some kind of... what exactly they were looking for Ven didn't really know. Some kind of big red button or something? Green for lights maybe?
There were banks of switches and all manner of buttons on the walls. Masses of posters dictating rules and regulations, along with all kinds of rotas and a lot of equipment commonplace in all warehouses. There were a number of large gray boxes on the wall, Ven began to open them up — most were labeled, one handily labeled supervision area. Ven flipped the switch. The whole area around them burst into bright light. Others were more obscure, but with some playing about she finally managed to get constant low level lighting going in all areas they could see. The master switch must have flipped off when the grid went out and back-up power took its place. The tension was lifted somewhat, welcome light chasing away the demons that always hide in the dark.
"Cool, we can actually see what we're doing, at least here anyway," said a relieved Kyle. The darkness was freaking him out no end.
"Bet this runs a load more power from the generators though, but if we are quick we should be fine. I can't see that all these lights are supposed to be on if they have motion sensors."
"Guys, something isn't right here either, something's off," said Ven, looking around suspiciously. There was a gnawing at the back of her skull. What was it?
"No bodies being dead," Al confirmed.
They all looked around. No bodies, no blood, no mess of any kind.
"Right, that's it," said Ven. "And look at the desks. The monitors are either missing or laying face down. Someone has tidied up. Even the chairs are pushed under the desks all nice and neat."
They scoured the area, looking at the uniform tidiness. Now that they could see better it was very apparent that the whole place was spick-and-span in a way it definitely shouldn't have been.
"The botnet would definitely have infected people here, no doubt about it. All those desks with monitors, all connected to the Web? No way some people weren't Online. And all the workers? Where are they if they weren't infected? Actually, where the hell are they if they were infected?" Ven's unease was building. The place was eerily quiet and incredibly clean. It was what she would have done if she had the chance to clean up after a zombie attack. She hated mess more than anything else.
Every desk was arranged 'just so'. Papers were stacked neatly, squared with the corners of the surface. Pens and staplers, keyboards and mouse-mats, everything was aligned and piled perfectly. The desks even smelled nice. Someone with very specific requirements had gone over everything and made it as if nobody had ever been infected or gone on the rampage. It was worse than if there were bodies to clamber over, at least that they could understand.
"Well, one thing is for sure," said Kyle, "there are people here who weren't infected, and had a good going over of the whole place with the polish and a mop and broom. It means they are even more mental about being tidy than you are Ven, which is damn spooky." Kyle shuddered at the thought. Who knew what kind of deranged person they were going to be dealing with.
"I am liking the smell," said Al appreciatively, sniffing the nearest desk and checking drawers for sandwiches — he came up empty handed.
"Right, before we get going looking for all the gear I think we need to check out all the offices and rooms first, just in case," said Ven.
"I don't agree," said Kyle. "Let's just get the damn gear, find the guns, and get the hell outta here."
"I am thinking that Kyle is right Ven, should we not get the vests to stop the bullets and the zombie bites first, then be going hunting for the dead that will bite us?"
"Guys, you're right, my bad, let's get busy with the shopping then."
They all grabbed a large open trolley each, used by the packers who were not fortunate enough to have the use of the limited number of battery based transport essential for larger items.
Heading off down the aisles it was obvious that the place was going to be full of surprises. Ven sincerely hoped they would be of the nice, non-zombie, kind.
I'm a Survivor
"Da da... survivor, mmm... mmm... make it, na na survive, da da survivin'. Wishin' da da best, pray na na ble—"
"Turn that fucking shit off... Now!"
Nopad turned the music off, he knew better than to disregard a 'request' from Joe.
Damn, right in the middle of my best moves too.
"Mmm... mmm... diss na na Internet, yeah, woo momma tau—. Ow, da fuck man, c'mon." Nopad rubbed the side of his head.
I told you to shut the fuck up," scowled Joe.
"You didn't. You said turn the music off."
Joe just stared at him, daring him to say just one more bloody word, just one.
Damn Destiny's Child. I hate that shit. What was wrong with some good 'ole Glen Campbell anyway?
"Listen. Can you hear that? Someone's here, or some thing anyway. I bet those buggers have got back in again. They are some sneaky sons of bitches and no doubt about it," said Joe admiringly. "Did you make sure you locked the doors this time?"
"Course I did." Nopad had no idea if he had remembered to lock the main doors or not. He really should have learned his lesson after last time.
They were in their 'headquarters' as Joe would put it, and 'where they hung out bored' in Nopad's words. It was a place Joe had stayed on a number of occasions. Much as he disliked the majority of what Sec UK did, and he didn't know the half of it, he found himself at the building on a regular basis. The accommodation in the lower level was good, on a par with a lot of quality places all over the world he had stayed at in the past. It was a four room suite — with a large living area, two bedrooms and a bathroom. Primarily there for guests who wanted their equipment in a hurry and would wait while it was being processed, in recent times it had been used mainly by Joe and a few other senior private security guys who didn't like staying upstairs with all the idiots that had never got their hands dirty in their lives.
It was also sometimes used to 'entertain' very select clientele. Entertain being a word with numerous connotations. From drug parties, to prostitutes of the high-end kind, to simple negotiations in private, the comfortable and well dressed rooms were there whenever needed
. Rather than house the accommodation above ground the warehouse level offered more security, with the addition of secrecy: having its own entry and exit points for the numerous heavily armed vehicles and more innocent cargos that came and went on a daily basis.
Now it was Joe and Nopad's home, and they were doing each other's head in.
Ever since the zombie botnet had infected the Web and the populace, the pair had been together, and Joe was not a man used to other people's company in such an intimate manner. He never even stayed the night when he managed to hook up with someone, which lamentably wasn't that often due to the nature of his work. He liked being alone, so he chose to live that way. He did his work, he kept quiet, then he went home and put it out of his mind.
Joe had never been your typical personal security guy. He wasn't ex-army, ex-police, ex-boxer, ex-anything. He was just Joe, and that was why he had never been out of work in twenty three years in his profession. He hadn't so much chosen it as it had chosen him.
Since a young teenager Joe had been involved in one form of mastery over the body or another. From all manner of martial arts, to rock climbing, mountaineering, he even took up marathon running for a time but it didn't suit his muscular frame, or his ankles. Shin splints were not something he ever wanted to experience again.
Starting as low level hired protection for an unsavory local businessman, Joe had quickly advanced through the ranks of the best local go-to guys for protection, to being the number one personal security aide for wealthy individuals who not only needed guarding but preferred someone who would shut the fuck up and just do their job. Joe was old school. He did what he was paid for and he kept his mouth shut. Both about his work and while on the job. He was a man that didn't get involved in being too friendly with his employers. This was what a lot of men who had built up their business over the years wanted. They didn't want youngsters who thought their boss was their friend and tried to engage them on a personal level. They wanted a man who looked, and was, hard as nails and would keep damn quiet and fade into the background until needed.
