Outbreak tzc-1

by Mark Clodi

  “You don’t understand. I have a wife and kids that need me.”

  “I’d bet that they need you alive more than dead.” Steve added.

  “You know what? Fuck you Steve. What do you have? A stupid cat waiting for you? Bite me, asshole.”

  “Hey man, go for it, don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

  Max looked at Stewart and studied her face trying to determine what her opinion was. Unfortunately, he saw that she agreed with Steve.

  “Don’t look at me” Stewart said, “the most significant relationship I’ve had over the past year was a one night stand with some jackass I met after a Broncos game.” From the look on Steve’s face, that was the best news he had heard all morning.

  “You think the army or national guard will be called in?” Max asked, hoping.

  “I’d say that the current situation justifies it but who knows? It is not good out there and I think it is just going to get worse, much worse. If I can’t even get anyone at HQ, well, that tells you something too.”

  “Not to change the subject, but I will. Since it sounds like we are planning on staying, no one without a key card will be able to get in, right?” Steve asked.

  “Not if you move that Steve-o.” Stewart said pointing at the trash can propping the door open.

  Steve dragged the trash can back into the building and tested to door to make sure that the lock activated.

  Stewart managed to pull up the security log on the computer. “As of right now I see twenty entries of people who should be in this building. That leaves twenty unaccounted for.”

  “No, no eighteen, no wait, two guys in the bathroom, that’s sixteen left unaccounted for. Lets see that list, Bob, dead. Fred, undead. Ditto for Nancy. I think that guy in the bathroom was named Rod, not sure, but there is a Rod Uberton on the list so that was probably him. Plus the guy on the toilet, I didn’t look, but he was toast too. Anyway Rod, undead and dead again.”

  “Hey, is there a function that allows you to deny all access? If there is we could lock up the building so that no one else can get in or out.”

  “I don’t know, Steve, if I want to be locked in here.” Max offered “and what if someone who isn’t…isn’t one of them wants to get in? Needs our help, what then?”

  “Fuck 'em. Not our problem. Let them find their own building I say.”

  “What do you think?” Max said looking at Stewart for support.

  “I don’t know if I want to be locked in either. I highly doubt that our friends, the undead, are smart enough to break in and if I were on my way to work and found myself being chased by a few of those things and expected my card key to work, only to find my ass hanging in the wind I’d be pretty pissed off. Before we let anyone else in, we need to make damn sure that they are not going to want a bite of us, agreed?”

  “No shit?” Steve said sarcastically.

  “No shit. Alright, let’s all go check the remaining doors and then figure out where’s the best place to hold up and defend if need be.” Stewart announced standing up from behind the desk.

  Max could not believe that he was trapped and unable to reach his family. It made him impatient, really impatient, as if each minute that slipped by put one more zombie between him and his family. He felt guilty for so easily being convinced to stay put. Was he being selfish? Putting his own safety before that of his family? Max forced himself not to think about it, there was nothing he could do now other than make sure that he survived long enough to give himself a chance to see his family again. That’s all he wanted, a chance.

  As the three of them began their check of the building, the security log registered a twenty fourth entry. Nancy Wieden, Marketing Department, seven thirteen, East Door Interior Card Reader, Approved. Nancy was hungry and somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered leaving the building when she ate. Clients. The blood and flesh she was able to consume from Bob had partially restored her. It had given her a portion of her memory back and allowed her to think in a slow, sluggish way. She recalled having breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with clients, new and old. That’s what someone in marketing does. Yes, and she had been damn good at her job. She needed to find a client in the worst way and fast. She could already feel Bob’s energy slipping away. With one high heel missing and Max’s favorite shirt covered in drying blood, Nancy started her lopsided walk across the parking lot.

  The search for new clients had begun.

  Chapter 6

  The first stop was Max’s cube. Steve elected to stay at his cube a dozen feet away so long as Officer Stewart stayed halfway between both areas, with her gun drawn and ready for trouble.

  'Another Stevism, making friends and influencing people.' Thought Max. Safely in his cube Max went through his desk drawers looking for the work out clothing he usually kept there. 'It has been awhile, maybe I brought that stuff home? Nope? Ah-ha! Oh no.' Max had not brought his work out clothing home, a pair of shorts, running shoes and a gray t-shirt was awaiting him, the problem was the shirt, one of those funky sayings he was pretty sure was not too appropriate for the day’s events, “Smile, at least your alive!” Somewhere back in his head he remembered picking up several of these lame t-shirts at a Christian church yard sale, all of the logos tried really hard to make a concise, political zinger, all of them were pretty close to “Smile, at least your alive”. It was even worse that the spelling for “you’re” was “your”, which was another reason Max bought the thing in the first place. Sarah had thought he was being pretty vicious and sarcastic about it and had threatened to throw it out if she ever caught him wearing it again. Hence it was regulated to the work exercise clothing bin.

  “Fuck.”

  “What is wrong Max?” Stewart asked.

  “Ah nothing, nada, just my workout clothes kind suck, but given the alternative, I will take 'em. Hey Steve don’t suppose you have a spare t-shirt I can have?”

  Steve prairie dogged over the cube and said, “Nope, only losers work out at work, I hit the gym every day at four thirty before I come in.”

  “Every day?” Stewart asked sarcastically.

  “Now that you mention it, can we head over to the company gym so I can at least shower off real quick?”

  “Abso-lute-a-mente, compadre. I would insist myself, you might get brained if someone who was not your close personal friend saw you right now. I will use the phone in the loser work out room while you shower. Officer Stewart, have I mentioned I am single? You can look in on both of us while I am calling from the list and you are showering off the blood.” said Steve.

  “Single? You don't say Steve? I wonder why you haven't been pulled out of circulation by some lucky lady.” to Max Stewart said, “Don’t worry Max one of you two will have your back covered.”

  “See?” said Steve, “She likes me already.”

  “Say Max is Steve looking like a zombie to you? He is starting to look a little gray around the throat and face to me? Plus he is spewing ‘zingers’ worthy of someone without any brains… Yeah I better cap him before he attacks us.” Stewart starts to swing her gun around.

  “Whoa! Whoa! I was kidding!” Steve ducked back under his cube wall, after a second or two he said, “Lets get going, alright? It is bad enough we have to wait around for shower boy and time is a wasting.”

  “Team players, gotta love em.” said Stewart.

  They made their way to the company showers, bat, gun and a golf club that had magically appeared in Steve’s hand as he emerged from his cube, at the ready. Along the way Max asked Stewart if she had a first name as referring to her as ‘Officer Stewart’ was getting tedious. Stewart beamed at him and said, “You can call me Jane.” Turning to Steve she said, “But ‘Officer Stewart’ or ‘ma'am’ will work just fine for you.”

  The trip to the gym was mercifully short, it was located just down the hall, through the main receiving dock. The door leading to the men’s room required a three button code to get in. “What’s the super secret code?”asked Ja
ne.

  “Two-One-Three.” replied Max.

  With a click the door opened and Jane lead the two men inside. Max ducked down and checked under the single stall, then in each of the two shower stalls, empty. Thank God for small favors! He stripped quickly and fired up the shower, a few minutes later he was drying off and poking among all the unlocked lockers looking for some other t-shirt to wear. An old sweater with the 'Corn Huskers' logo on it, ugh! Max was not that desperate, the heat was bad enough, but wearing a Nebraska team sweat shirt was liable to get him brained on general principle here in Buffalo territory. Sighing Max pulled his 'Smile at least your alive' shirt over his head and moved out into the gym, heading for the loading dock where he could hear Steve was arguing with Jane again.

  “All I am saying is not all these people are dead, twenty one calls and no answers? They ran and hid somewhere, we need to get on the PA system and call everyone to the main entrance or one of your conference rooms.” Argued Jane.

  “Fuck that, they are deaders, leave em and lets make a break for my ride. We can get out of here then and go check on Max’s family, then head for the hills.”

  “Oh, c’mon Steve, just use the PA and call everyone to the conference room.” Max said.

  Stewart examined Max briefly, “Nice shirt. At least you don’t look like a butcher anymore. Steve doesn’t know how to use the PA system and he is worried that maybe the dead can understand some words and will meet us wherever we announce. Now that you’re here you can use the PA and get us rolling. YOU’RE. Get it?”

  Steve snorted and Max looked a little embarrassed then said, “Ah, I don’t know how to use the PA either. I picked it up as a joke, at least it is a hundred percent blood free. Who is on the list of people who came in today? Any admin assistants?”

  Steve looked down the list, “Well, well, we do have one ‘Miss Amelia Bryon’, she is Kirkpatrick’s assistant on the second floor. Or was, she ain’t answering her phone.”

  “Try again. Didn’t you hit on her at the last company party? I seem to recall something about…”

  “Yeah, yeah, lets mention how Steve got shot down again. C’mon man I was two months out of my divorce! The phone is ringing.” Holding the phone out to Max, “See? No answer, she is a goner.”

  “Nah she is probably holed up in Kirkpatrick’s office, this is perfect he has like the biggest office on the second floor and it looks over the main entrance and into the parking lot, so we can see when the national guard gets here, makes sense to go there anyway, eh?”

  “Ah, I still say we make a run for the parking lot and our cars, once in our cars we should be safe, we can just run anyone down who gets in our way.” said Steve.

  “Steve! Come on!”

  “Fine.” Steve hung up the phone.

  On the other end a voice finally answered, too late for Steve to hear.

  “Hello? Is anybody there? Kirkpatrick’s gone crazy he…he’s noticed me! Help me! Send help! Oh God! Stay away from me!”

  Chapter 7

  Nancy’s memory was like sand slipping through her fingers. Images freely came and went. Was she married? Did she have a family? Where did she live? For a few minutes, if she concentrated hard enough she could remember an apartment or a loft. The floor plan was wide open, must have been a loft, she thought. She could see that it was decorated just like a page out of a Pottery Barn catalog. Rich wood floors, brick walls adorned with trendy black and white pictures of people and places. Nancy couldn’t remember if she had taken those pictures, where they people she knew? Family? Had she been to any of those places? She just couldn’t remember.

  Those thoughts were too distant. Her short term memory served her better. She had forced herself to come into work early that day. She usually spent several nights a week entertaining clients and rarely arrived at the office any earlier than ten. As head of her department she had a substantial expense account that she used to retain current clients as well as lure new business. It had taken her a while to adjust to the marketing lifestyle, lots of smiling, listening to stories you could care less about, eating, drinking, flirting, presentations, making deals on a promise and a handshake, this was all part of the job.

  When someone was stupid enough to ask her how old she was Nancy would answer, forty one, when in truth she was almost forty seven. Appearances were a major plus in her job so she routinely exercised and regularly visited the salon to have those gray hairs dyed brown. Nancy was taller than the average woman and she liked to wear high heels to increase her height. For some reason it made her feel more powerful, more in control of her surroundings.

  Nancy traditionally worked long hours and had promised herself that she was going to make the three day weekend into four days of rest and relaxation. In order to do this, she had a few loose ends that she needed to take care of and had decided to get in before any of her staff arrived.

  Her in box had shown thirty three unread emails. “Shit” this would slow her down. Nancy started addressing the important ones and simply deleted everything else. She was not accustomed to how quiet her office was that morning. Usually the phone would be ringing, Peggy, her admin assistant, would be standing at her door waiting for approval to enter and discuss some pending issue. All Nancy could hear was the hum of her computer and the gurgling of the coffee pot on Peggy’s desk. Usually Nancy would have stopped on her way in at the local coffee shop and bought her caffeine, but nothing had been open so she would have to make due with Peggy’s private stash.

  Nancy soon became absorbed in her work. She needed the second quarter financial reports from last year. They should be in the top drawer of Peggy’s file cabinet. As she rose from her desk Nancy could hear the last drips of coffee falling into the pot. Perfect. She would multi task, grab a cup, the reports, and life would be good.

  The first part of her plan worked out but when she opened the file where the reports should have been all she found was a yellow sticky note with Peggy’s handwriting.

  “Fred borrowed 06/28/05”

  It didn’t surprise her to find Peggy’s note. She always created a paper trail. That’s why they made such a good team. Peggy was meticulous and Nancy shot from the hip. Peggy had been Nancy’s best hire. She had great people skills, was very organized, and a great self motivator. At first Nancy wondered if Peggy was a threat to her career. That she might somehow be a Nancy-in-training. However, she would remind herself that Peggy was just an administrative assistant and that made her feel better. The only fault that Nancy found with Peggy was that she was younger and prettier. Nancy knew that it was more of a weakness within herself but nevertheless she couldn’t help but hold it against Peggy.

  “Not a problem, more time to suck in this sweet caffeine.” Nancy told herself as she placed both hands around the cup feeling the radiating warmth. She strolled out of her office and headed down the hall to the accounting department. Her high heels clicked on the floor tiles.

  Nancy was confident that she would be able to find the file because Fred, being an accountant, was border line insane when it came to neatness. “Hell, the file probably had it's own private corner of his desk all to itself” she mused.

  Immediately Nancy knew something was wrong when she arrived at entrance to the accounting department. Papers were strewn about the commercial grade carpeting. The bamboo plant that usually sat on the stand outside Fred’s office had been knocked to the floor. A pizza box lay on it's side with the remaining slices of pepperoni laying on the carpet.

  Nancy felt her heartbeat rise. “Fuck me, Fred had a stroke or a heart attack. Poor bastard was probably working late when it hit him and there was no one around to help. What a way to go.”

  The light to his office was off. That and the idea of Fred sprawled across is neatly organized desk scared the hell out of her. Nancy knew she had to find out what truly happened, to see if there was anything should could do and yet she still stood in the hallway with her fresh coffee warming her hands.

  It was time. She had
to do something, “be a big girl and just get it over with” Nancy convinced herself. She took a step and froze dead in her tracks. There was a popping sound, like someone snapping bubble wrap between their fingers.

  “What the f….” she whispered. Nancy could feel the sweat under her arms and down her neck. Looking down she could see that the sharp point from the heel of her shoe had punctured a piece of paper causing the sound.

  “Big brave Nancy” she mumbled and relaxed a bit.

  Fred’s door was closed. This was the fun part. Nancy grasped the doorknob and pushed it open. The office was in the same state as the common area she had just walked through. Papers, office supplies, trash, reference books, all lined the floor. Fred was sitting in his chair, upright, mouth open, head cocked back, eyes staring at the acoustic ceiling tiles, as though he had fallen asleep in his chair, but with his eyes open.

  “F-fred…”

  At the sound of Nancy’s voice his head snapped forward. Fred started to stand up.

  “Fred. What the hell happened? You ok?”

  When he did not answer she took a step backwards. Pop.

  “Fred!”

  His hand dragged along the desk knocking more papers to the floor as he continued toward Nancy. She took another step back. Pop.

  “I swear to god Fred if you don’t…”

  Right before he lunged at her, Nancy could see Fred’s lips pull back and expose his yellowish teeth. Nancy flung the hot coffee into Fred’s face. In slow motion she watched him pass by her and slam into the wall next to where she was standing. She did not hear his expected screams of pain nor did he even bother to bring his hands to his face. He bounced off the wall and stood there, dim eyes moving side to side.

  'Get the fuck out of here!' her mind screamed and her legs listened. Nancy spun around and sprinted towards the hall. She could hear footsteps shuffling through the debris behind her. She ran back to her office and slammed the door shut. The whole wall shuddered from the impact of the door.