The Long Way To Reno

by Mix, Michelle

  Chapter One

  I took a seasonal job at an online retailer fulfillment warehouse during its peak season. My parents, whose home was my home after a failed stint at University of Nevada, Reno, had grown tired of me and my material addictions and wanted me to take over on adult responsibilities.

  I only did it because dad threatened to cut off my Xbox Live account. After a few weeks, I started getting confidence in the independence I’d gained working here. There was something about earning my own paycheck that motivated me – plus, dad stopped nagging and even chipped in for a new manicure every week while I helped them pay some of my bills.

  With the New Year approaching, I had plans for a relatively predictable future. I wanted to find a new boyfriend to replace the one that had decided I didn't measure up to his other girlfriends – I was going to find one that treated me like a Queen, and who would shower me with endearments and attention because my looks and value demanded it. I wanted a manly man with muscle, attitude and money, someone to take care of me through life.

  I needed a man to assure me of my worth, because men were easy – life was too judgmental to beautiful girls. Also, at my age, I wasn't getting any younger, or…perkier. So I needed to kick my plans into gear and find me a man.

  I was on the third level of the Gold labeled mezzanine on the second side of the warehouse when the fire alarm went off. I stopped my frustrating attempt to scan a poorly concealed vibrator and looked up at the flashing white lights, cringing at the sirens that followed. With a pained sigh, I tossed the dildo into my nearly filled tote and joined a couple of other workers that were on that level to the stairway.

  The warehouse, miles in length and width, was comprised of concrete floors, and, depending on the side, multi-level mezzanines. The second side had the most of these – the first half was comprised of these five story high compartments that were filled mainly with heavy pallets of tightly stacked items that were negotiated to the floors by forklifts. Here and there were dedicated sections for shipping, the docks, and another upper-level dedicated completely to packing items for the keyboard happy customer. This was a big warehouse, with miles to cover in ten minutes or less. So even exiting it due to a fire drill wasn’t an easy task.

  "Didn't we have a fire drill last week?" this chick asked as she tossed her scanner back towards the direction of her cart. It bounced from the tote to the floor, to which she cringed as she made her way down the metal staircase. We could see other workers abandoning their previous tasks to make their way to nearest exits. The conveyer belts had stopped, so the blue and orange totes sitting atop of them looked weirdly impatient.

  "I VTO'd back then, I don't know," I said, remembering how irritated dad was when I showed up back in Reno, relieved for the time off.

  'You must hate money,' he'd said accusingly.

  'No way, man! M-A-C's got a new Johnny Weir collection out, I need the dough for some new gloss!' I'd replied haughtily, but I was being serious. M-A-C's expensive.

  "It's going to be so cold," she continued, and I halted in mid-step, looking down at my man-sized Halo tee that hung on me like a short dress, held in place by my safety vest. It was often high temps in the warehouse, so I lacked a sweater or jacket that would be extremely helpful in this sort of event. I cursed aloud to myself as I remembered that Northern Nevada had been trapped in some sort of 5 degree overnight weather. I continued on with my shoulders drooping, falling in line with the others that were making their way toward the exits.

  Then I lifted my head with some hope – I'd spied a couple of guys that were worthy of my attention, and maybe this was the chance I needed to get close to them. Maybe share some warmth with their manly bodies. I began to look forward to going out into the cold, but then I registered the blockage in front of the door.

  A security guard wearing a flashy neon green jacket was shaking her head at a couple of the older warehouse workers and explaining something in a mystified tone – her handheld was going crazy with noise, but with the fire alarm going off, I couldn't hear what was being said. I looked at everyone around me – people wearing pajama bottoms and tees, shorts and sports logo shirts. Women with their hair pinned back tightly, guys that smelled of B.O. and cologne. All of them were looked annoyed and curious at the same time.

  I was slightly disappointed that my group lacked the guys I'd been eying, and busied myself with wiping the area below my eyes, hopefully smearing away any fallen mascara and liner. It was so difficult keeping my makeup in place with all this dirt and grime going on here in the warehouse. Sweat made it worse.

  "I don't know why the doors are still locked, but we're to stay inside!" the security guard exclaimed, starting to sound impatient with the repeated questions directed at her.

  I wondered why she gave such an answer when we were losing our jobs just standing there. It seemed like she was making a big deal out of a stupid drill, so I didn’t understand why the tone.

  "So why the fire alarm?" another guy asked, heavily irritated as he set his hands on skinny hips and looked pissed. "Did someone pull it, or what?"

  "They want us to stay inside – something's going on out there in the parking lot, so we're to stay put. Once they give me the go-ahead, I'll let you guys go," she said, but it was obvious to me she didn't even know why we were where we were. I fiddled with the edge of my shirt, looking for a cute guy to pass the time with.

  "Did they start laying people off?" I then asked a guy next to me.

  "Probably. Some guy going psycho in the parking lot," he contributed, slightly humored by the prospect. Others, hearing our convo, relaxed. "If that's all it is, we should, like, go back to work. He can't get in."

  "Who can't get in?" an older woman asked, overhearing and lurching over to hear more. I winced at the smoke-smell of her, pulling away to give myself room. The handheld crackled, and the security guard spoke in panic once more, but because of this other lady, I didn't hear what she'd said.

  "Oh, I was just, like, joking. Y'know, layoffs?"

  "They're laying people off? I thought they laid off two shifts last week."

  "It's about time," someone else said, and I moved away, closer to the security guard because everyone was distracted by the event of layoffs. Yeah, the temporary season was over, but times were tough – a lot of these people were hoping to be hired on permanently. I knew dad would take care of me if this happened to me, so I wasn’t worried. I tried to sympathize with the people that looked bothered, but it was hard to do so when I didn’t care about them. So I just fiddled with my hair and wondered where all the cute boys were, scoping the area hopefully for late-comers.

  "I can't let you go just yet," the security guard – Kara, I saw on her name badge – said again, looking irritated at the same guy she'd been talking with earlier. "They haven't cleared us. Once the manager gives the word, ya'll have to stay here."

  "Is there a fire or something?" someone called out from the back of the group, and I counted about thirty-some people gathered before this exit door. Temporary workers, permanent workers – all of them with frustrated expressions. I looked back at the warehouse – at the two sets of mezzanines with multitudes of books and various items waiting to be picked. Machinery churned, the fire alarm continued to screech. I winced at the blast of heat as I maneuvered away from the group that continued to grow. I wanted to hear more of what was happening, but the combined smells of people-funk were growing more prominent. I lifted an arm and sniffed myself to make sure my Secret was still working, and was satisfied.

  "Something going on outside?" another guy asked me. I didn't catch his name. It was hard to hold onto names when people came and went so quickly at this warehouse.

  "Yeah. I dunno what," I replied, reaching up t
o unclip my hair. It was long and gross - I hadn't washed it since my shift started two days ago. The warehouse was so dirty, and there was no point in cleaning it if it was just going to get filthy again. I hoped my eye makeup wasn't smeared, and pulled out my plastic baggy – which was required to get through the security checkpoints – and rummaged for my chapstick.

  "So this isn't a drill? What the hell, man?" he called out, venturing forward.

  I watched people argue with Kara, who was growing flustered. Smearing on my chapstick, I wondered where the other guards were to dispel this rising mutiny. I thought I heard a faint scream from somewhere in the warehouse. But I didn't pay too much attention to it. People hollered all the time to be heard over the machinery. I shoved my baggie into my back pocket, where it bulged uncomfortably.

  Someone started to cough, hacking up copious amounts of gross phlegm, and I gave a disgusted look in that direction. A younger chick was excusing herself once she realized the dirty looks being given to her, as people moved away to avoid her onslaught of germs. Someone else started coughing, too, and I figured it was the amount of dust that coated this warehouse – being in the desert with soft sand, with machinery working all the time, the air did feel dirty and thick.

  My throat did feel a little sore, but I cleared it and felt fine. I spied the nearby water station, and ventured towards it.

  "You feel that?" I heard someone ask as I retrieved a paper cup and filled it with what I suspected was cooled tap water.

  "What?"

  "I swear to God the floor was shaking."

  "Like an earthquake?"

  How anybody could feel anything in this concrete and steel jungle was something beyond my attention. I savored my water while people started to blame the security guard for pulling them away from their job. The fire alarm continued to scream, the lights flashing, and I wondered how to maximize my newly acquired gear on my male Spartan. Being female in the gaming world earned you really annoying 'Get Back In The Kitchen' comments, and defending myself only took away from my game. Playing as a male was so much easier.

  Kara shushed people and held her handheld up, so I stopped my noisy slurping of water to hear the night manager screaming for people to run. At the panicked, girlish shriek coming from a man that's six foot four and claimed to have been some football star from some sort of big-name college, everyone just froze. Except for the people that continued to cough and hack and stumble into other people. I felt my eyes widen and my heart to do this weird stop thingy, wondering if I'd heard right – there was another scream, and then more panic came from the radio that caused much discomfort.

  Whoa, I thought, finishing off my water and looking at the others. This must be a joke of some kind.

  But everyone was looking at each other with nervous and bewildered expressions, and the voices in the radio flitted in and out; some with commands, some with unintelligible jibber jabber. Kara looked absolutely clueless as she stared at her radio. I really wasn't sure what to think – wasn't even sure what to do or say as I dropped my paper cup into the trashcan.

  One of the older guys plowed past the security guard and shoved the door open – the blast of cold air that swept inside was chilling. I definitely didn't want to be out there. Bright flashes of light told me that the fire alarm was going on out there as well, flashing over the full parking lot with sporadic energy. Well, I think they were the fire alarm lights. Kinda weird how they stopped flashing and settled instantly on the guy. He stopped short and looked up – his face looked stunned as he continued to look up, like he was viewing the night sky.

  Why would he do that?

  Before I could continue that thought, a scream next to me jerked my attention from the chaos at the door, and I realized I was watching the first coughing woman biting into another woman. I stared, not comprehending, even as liquid warmth sprayed over the both of them and they tumbled to the floor. People stared, then looked startled, and I was torn from looking at what was happening to the people that were then trying to shut the door against the man that was screaming to be let in.

  I stepped back, bumping against the water station, and realized that the chick fight happening before me wasn't a fight at all – that first chick was literally snarling and tearing into the second woman with hands and teeth. When she looked up as a guy stepped towards her, her face was demented – covered in blood – oh God it stunk – and her eyes had taken on this reddish black quality that reminded me of Darth Maul. She growled – growled! – like an animal warning away something trying to take its food. Her face twitched and the man stepped back with a seriously confused stare.

  More shouts told me that the other hacker was lunging and clinging onto a taller older man, and this caught the attention of the biter in front of me. She immediately lunged forward and attacked the man from behind, and that's when people stepped in to stop this madness, so it gave me time look over at the door. Kara was screaming, four guys and a girl holding tightly onto a door that didn't want to close.

  The fire alarms continued, and this chaos overwhelmed me. I didn't know what to do as people started to scatter, shouting amongst each other and stumbling away from both the somethings at the door, and the people eating other people. The two that started the whole eating mess was tearing into the man, and the woman previously bit was choking on her own blood.

  I stared down at her, unable to make a noise or to even move. She clawed at her own torn throat – I didn't know skin could look that way, folded over – and blood spewed over the concrete floor, near my shoes. I lifted one Reebok, then the other to escape the slow moving liquid that stank –I saw a lot of blood and gore on the television screen, but seeing something like this just…tore something in me. Like it wasn't real. Like maybe I was in some sort of video game – y'know, a zombie one. Or something. I couldn't think.

  She sputtered, coughed again, then emitted this tortured shriek – it looked really forceful and wicked, because her eyes seemed to bulge, and the sound wavered into a bubbly gurgle- her limbs stiffened inward, hands curling down and her entire body seized. Her eyes exploded with that red and black color, and she was no longer screaming – she was pushing herself up to grab the nearest hollering person next to her, attacking like some rabid animal.

  Someone grabbed my arm and shouted, let go as they passed me by – prompting me out of my shock. I looked back at the security guard and realized they'd given up on holding the door shut. People were coming in.

  People that looked like the lady that had brought down another worker, this guy screaming like a banshee as his eyes were popped out by blood stained fingers. I blinked dry eyes and stepped back, bumping into the trashcan. That had to be it. We were in a movie. On a movie set. Peeps were filming some zombie flick, and us poor workers were caught unawares. That memo should've been sent to me somehow, because I think I would've been better prepared. You know, had a better survival instinct on camera.

  I continued to stand there and watch those people coming in from the outside, mauling the security guard, and the guy I had spoken to earlier. Animal sounds came from them, and Kara shrieked in pure agony – I clapped my hands over my ears and felt completely weak because humans shouldn't sound like that. I think I even squeaked or something in response because then the people with bloody faces, with torn clothes and Darth Maul-colored eyes were now looking at me. Seeing this and watching them as they suddenly rushed towards me broke me out of my stunned shock – I turned and began running, no sprinting – spying the other fleeing bastards racing for their lives towards the center of the warehouse.

  I clawed at the air in front of me and inwardly begged myself to run faster – those people behind me were snarling and breathing heavy, and it reminded me of those fucking zombies from the movies – sprinting after their prey, their bodies jerky and anxious and doing whatever it was they could do to get to their food faster. They weren't limping or stumbling like the Walkers on the show – these things were sprinting like Olympic track stars.

&
nbsp; I cursed my lack of athletic prowess, immediately out of breath afterward, turning a sharp corner towards where I knew was another exit. But people were streaming away from there, too, prompted by another crowd of snarling creatures. I made another sharp turn and made the stupid effort to claw up onto a conveyor belt. I managed to fall onto the other side, slamming into my knees, the snarling monsters behind me stopped by the obstacle. It was so stupid and simple, me crawling to my feet and looking back to see them dumbfounded by the conveyor. Like it wasn't supposed to be there, and what were they supposed to do next - ?

  They caught sight of the other runners and began their chase as I stumbled off, my knees aching by the fall. I caught hold of a cart, full with totes, and shoved it behind me, hearing it fall with a noisy clatter. It caught the attention of the monsters, and some fell over the conveyor belt, as if they hadn't seen it when they caught sight of me. Once they realized they were closer to me, they snarled and clawed to their feet, and I booked it once more. Arms pumping, breath labored – I spent my days on the couch, playing video games where I chased after my prey. I wasn't ready for this!

  In an absolute moment of panic-blind stupidity, I went up – the metal stairway to the second and third floors of one of the massive sections of the warehouse was my one chance to escape somehow, and I used the safety bars to yank myself up. My thighs automatically protested –they're so steep – and I was slowed significantly by it. The monsters behind me were stumbling over each other, and actually piled over one another, and I used that to crawl my way to the third floor – I figured once up there, I'd race to the other end of the level, where it would connect to the other color section. Inspiration hit me, and I made myself run harder.

  The warehouse was in absolute chaos – the fire alarms were still going off, screams were coming from everywhere, machinery continued grinding on – I didn't dare look anywhere else but ahead of me as I jumped and stumbled across another conveyer belt and booked it down a narrow aisle of shelves upon shelves of various items. I didn't even look behind me to see if I was still being chased.