She put the coffees in a cardboard base and carefully placed them in the bottom of a paper bag, then slid it forward.
“My boss is going to want to know what happened here,” she said. “Can you leave your name and phone number? You know, for insurance purposes.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not trying to win the lottery by suing the owner over some deranged vagrant,” Richard said, and pulled his wallet out and handed her his card.
“Thank you, Mr. Condom. I’ll make sure my boss gets this. He’ll probably call later today.”
Richard snatched the bag off the counter and headed out. Looking back as he opened the door, he said, “That’s Con-don, with an n,” and left without waiting for an apology.
The sign on the building read: ‘Brinkly Printing Co.’ Richard had spent the better part of the last ten years working at this location.
Earning a living as salesman demanded a certain amount of discipline, managing the highs and the lows of cyclical income. Save money when it’s rolling in and pull from the nest egg during the lean times. He fancied himself a studious manager of money, his job, and his life.
“Hey, sleeping beauty. You’re late,” a man sitting in a chair rolled out from the first cubical, blocking his path as he entered the office.
“Andy! I feel so guilty. I should have gotten an extra cup of fuck off while I was at the coffee shop,” Richard said.
“The other salesmen have been here for thirty minutes.”
“And it can tell time too! My, it’s amazing what modern science can do with dog shit,” Richard said. “Look, your grandfather started this company 60 years ago. He’s gone, and your family sold the business before you were old enough to piss standing up. You’re not my boss. You’re not anybody’s boss. Ass kissing Vice President Jenkins is not an official job position, but it’s what you excel at. Now move before I move you.”
Andy made a half snarl, turned in his chair, and duck-walked back to his desk.
Richard made it to the salesmen’s offices without any further harassment. He stopped at Drew Wilson’s door, knocked twice, and let himself in.
Drew was behind her desk going over paperwork. Her eyes peered up at him over her half-glasses as he closed the door.
Her long blonde hair hung alluringly hiding her left eye. Her plump red lips glistened, and moved to form a little ‘O.’
Richard felt things getting a little tight in his shorts. “I’m sorry I’m late, Drew. I had the most unbelievable morning at the coffee shop.” The smell of Drew’s lavender perfume filled the air, bringing a calming effect.
“What? They made you hand grind the beans,” she teased.
“Well . . . I . . .”
“Oh stop, silly. Don’t be bothered,” she smiled, and rose to take a coffee from his hand. Drew flipped the hair away from her eye, removed her glasses, and smiled even bigger. Her bleached white teeth looked like polished ivory.
The purple sleeveless top fit tightly across her chest, accentuating her perky, small breast. Her black pants hugged her ass perfectly, enticing Richard to grab a hand full.
“Thanks for the cappuccino. It’s just how I like it. You’d better get back to your office before anyone wonders what you’re doing in here at this time and not at your desk.”
“I know. I can hardly wait for lunch, though,” Richard grinned.
“Me too,” she cooed. “I’ll be waiting and ready.”
Richard grabbed his pants and adjusted himself. It would be very unbecoming of him to leave her office while pitching a tent.
Looking at the clock multiple times that morning didn’t make it count up any faster. Despite the event at the coffee shop, things were soaring his way. He made three sales on cold calls and had two of his clients call him out of the blue for reorders. Very unusual for this time of year.
“Brinkly Paper, you’ve got Richard Condon. How may I assist you today,” he said, answering in a chipper voice.
“Richard, you took the SUV.” It was Marge, the fastest way to rapidly decay a smile.
“Yes, I took the SUV today. Sooooo . . . .”
“So you were supposed to take the coupe. I’ve got to go to the school at noon and pick up Jimmy and some of his classmates and drive them to the museum,” she said.
“I thought the museum was tomorrow?”
“No, tomorrow I take the coupe. You have to have the SUV to pick up Jimmy and his karate class and take them to the tournament.”
That damn woman is always right, he thought. So, he apologized and said he would bring the SUV right over.
The clock read eleven thirty. It was Friday and most everyone in the office would go to Mr. Jalapeno, a local Mexican restaurant, for lunch. A tradition of sorts for years, and no one seemed to tire of it. The free chips were always fresh and paired well with the two dollar margaritas.
If he were going to be back in time to meet Drew, he had to move now. She would be in the copy room, waiting for him at noon. All alone, with the lights down low, and her panties on the floor.
Richard pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and hurriedly walked down the hall to the front.
“Hey Dick, what’s the rush? You’re coming to lunch, right?” Shane, a fellow salesman asked.
“Sorry, not today. I got some family matters to attend to. Have a good time. Bye.” Richard didn’t break stride while heading out the door.
*
Marge had that ‘look’ on her face when he went inside his house and exchanged keys. He made some excuse he was working through lunch and had to get back as soon as possible.
“You do remember that you have to pick up Rhonda at five o’clock today?” She asked.
Richard gritted his teeth. “Of course I remember.”
“I’ll bet you right now that I’ll get a call from Rhonda at five-thirty saying you’re not there. Then, you’ll show up home at six-thirty saying how it completely slipped you mind because of work,” she said.
“You’re wrong,” his face turned a nasty shade of red. “I’ve got to go.”
Richard got another taste of the bitter foundation off her cheek and left out of the driveway like a bat out of hell.
On the drive back to the office, his heart started beating faster, feeling hollow against his chest. Light perspiration built on his brow. His mouth felt dry, and his tongue thick. So concerned with his own well-being he didn’t notice any of the other drivers’ annoying habits.
At least the parking was easier this time. Lunch had cleared a number of vehicles. Composing himself after exiting his SUV, Richard sure stepped back to the office, hoping the ill feelings would soon pass.
Andy remained hovering over his desk like a fly protecting a newly deposited gift in the cow field. His excuse for avoiding the Friday lunch was to be available at the office for that one hour a week in case of fire. Cheap-ass prick, is what Richard thought about that lame excuse as he passed him by. No matter, the copy room had a lock on the door.
By now, each step felt as if he were walking in lead boots. He tried to cool off by wetting a paper towel at the water cooler and dabbing it across his forehead. There was a bottle of aspirin in his desk. He used his last remaining strength to make it back to his office and plop down on his chair.
The world around him turned into rainbow taffy. Pictures of his wife and kids on his desk seemed to be saying their heartfelt farewells. Richard closed his eyes, and invited the salvation of darkness.
Reanimating minutes later, Richard no longer felt the heat from his fever. In fact, there was only one feeling that greatly dominated all others: hunger.
His body no longer responded gracefully as before when he rose from his chair. His feet moved forward in short, choppy steps, while his gait widen as if he were about to mount a horse.
A compelling force pushed him out of the office, down the hall, and brought him to a stop at the copy room door. He put his hand on the doorknob and twisted it one way, then the other, and pushed it open.
The
light in the hall cut through the darkness of the room, illuminating two bare legs hanging down the front of a copying machine. Drew’s body from the waist up hid in shadow. Richard entered the room and closed the door.
“Mmmmmmuuhhh,” Richard felt an urge to speak, but didn’t understand why.
“Mmmmmm right back at you, baby. I was getting worried and beginning to think you had forgotten about our date. Now, come on over here and make up for it,” Drew said.
Richard lumbered in the darkness with outstretched arms, grabbing onto one of her wrists, and searching with his other hand until he found the other.
“Oh, I like a man that takes what he wants,” she said with excitement.
It was her irresistible smell that so captivated him now. The smell of fresh meat. He plunged his head forward and tore into her delicate neck with his teeth.
The sudden shock of his attack left her unable to cry out, that and the fact that he crushed her larynx on the second chomp. Drew succumbed to merciful death barely letting out a gasp.
Richard enjoyed her body in a way as never before. Feasting on the flesh that he used to kiss and caress. He ate until the there was nothing left, driving him out of the copy room to find his next meal.
Andy sat at his desk with his IPOD buds shoved deep into his ears and banged out a drum solo with a pencil in each hand on imaginary drums. A half-eaten cheese sandwich and a bag of chips lay abandoned on his desk.
Andy caught a glimpse of Richard’s back as he was leaving the office. The clock read fifteen minutes to one. Andy jerked out his ear buds and ran after Richard.
“Hey, Dick Condom. You can’t leave now. Lunch is almost over and you need to get back to work. Mr. Jenkins is going to be upset if I tell him you’re taking half a day off.”
Richard turned and faced Andy.
“Good God man, are you sick?” Andy cringed, and stepped backward.
Drew’s splattered blood covered Richard’s face and clothing. He reached out a bloody hand and shambled forward.
Andy turned to run but ended up tripping on his own feet. His head hit the stainless steel trimming on his cubical door. Consciousness momentarily faded to black, returning with the full weight of Richard on his back, and deadly teeth gnawing through his skull.
Richard dined on Andy’s brains through the screaming, giving him a certain satisfaction beyond quenching his hunger. After the final death shiver, the dead body no longer held interest, but at least left him feeling satiated for the moment.
Richard left the office building into a world of chaos. The surroundings blared with sirens as squad cars, ambulances, and fire trucks maneuvered around traffic. The vehicles contained food, but moved too fast for him to catch any.
As he lurched in front of Café Coffee, something familiar about the façade brought pause. He turned to the door and tried to pull it open without any luck. Then instinctively, he pushed on the door handle and entered.
“Hello, what can I get—Oh my God!” Judy gasped. “Mr. Condom, what happened to you? Do you need me to call a doctor?”
‘Con-don,’ echoed in Richard’s head. Something about what she called him stoked his anger. It compelled him to make a sound with his mouth, but couldn’t remember how, or even why. It didn’t matter, his jaws ached to masticate, his teeth eager to tear flesh off bone.
The undead man advancing had Judy backed against the wall. “Mr. Condom, you’re not well. You need to stay away from me. Back off!” She grabbed a coffee decanter from its station and slammed it into Richard’s skull as his hands reached her throat. Glass shards and hot coffee went flying through the air and cut a nasty gash across his cheek.
The coffee on his face mixed with blood squirting out of Judy’s jugular as Richard set out to satisfy his insatiable urge to bite, chew, and eat. He ate mindlessly until all flesh was nearly gone and returned to the outside world.
The sunlight slowly faded to hungry, black low hanging clouds. Dark-gray skies dominated to the west as the winds brought in cooler moist air. A beacon of fading intent pulled at him, drawing him to a destination that eluded his conscious mind.
The rains fell in buckets from above, washing blood and bits of flesh caked on his face and clothing. The line of cars passing viewed him as just another poor soul caught in the rain without an umbrella.
Richard came upon a woman in her car texting on her phone. The traffic light showed green. Overwhelming anger once again took control.
He slammed his fist into the driver’s side window. His college graduation ring reduced the safety glass into a thousand pieces. The woman’s face lit up in surprise as the glass fell into her lap.
He grabbed her by the hair, snatched the phone from her hand, and tossed it to the street.
The woman’s foot lifted off the brake pedal as Richard tugged to extract her through the broken window. The vehicle started moving forward, and slowed as Richard’s strength now countered via the woman’s neck. Her scream rose proportionally to the amount of tension he exerted, and came to an abrupt halt as Richard gave one mighty jerk. The head detached from her body. The annoying thing finally went silent.
The car moved forward again, coming to stop against a power line pole across the highway.
Richard continued his walk, one foot forward, then the next, slowly, methodically. Unaware that he still had the woman’s head in his grasp, he moved toward a destination that was nothing more than an urge from within. Block, after block, street after street. The darkness the rain clouds brought hid him in plain sight. He meandered through puddles, wet grass, and mud. Sheets of rain cascaded over him.
A black SUV in a driveway struck a chord of familiarity. The synapses in his brain misfired, searching for an answer. No answer was there. Reason eluded him once again.
Still, he veered from the road and shuffled up the driveway. Lightning crashed illuminating his pale white complexion and the dark rings that surrounded his eyes. His brooding silhouette moved across the garage wall as he walked up to the back door and turned the knob.
Marge was at the stove sautéing onions and garlic when she heard the door squeak open behind her. It followed with the sound of the pouring rain, and then the door closed. Vegetables sizzled in the following silence.
The clock on the microwave read six-thirty-two. Not bothering to turn around and acknowledge her husband, she shook her head and made an ‘I told you so’ smirk. “Well, if it’s not Mr. Right on time.” She gave a vengeful chuckle. “I told you, you would forget to pick up Rhonda.”
Richard looked about the kitchen. It all felt familiar and yet so distant. The woman’s words echoed, ‘I told you, you would forget,’ over and over in his head.
Then, the last sentient thought Richard would ever have again flashed in his mind, That damn woman is always right.
Richard embraced her from behind, ate her, and was never bothered by anything else ever again in his undead existence.
The End
Pheromone and Rotten
*
Pheromones: chemicals capable of acting outside the body of the secreting individual to impact the behavior of the receiving individual.
*
“So I says to him, ‘At least you don’t have to fix me breakfast.’ And I ran from the room before he could ask me my name,” the tall, slim, muscular black man said, examining his toenails, deciding if they needed additional filing. “Are you listening to me? What you doing up in the bathroom all this time?”
‘Believe,’ by Cher, played softly in the background as he sat on a fuchsia green couch with his feet propped on an ebony stained coffee table. The street outside of the seemingly abandoned warehouse was quiet. The evening gave way to the night in the Faubourg Marigny neighborhood near the French Quarter, New Orleans.
Pleased with the curvature of each nail, the man began to apply the first coat of polish. The nail polish was delightfully named: Sparkle-icious.
“Dykie, I says—”
“I heard you, Tutti. I’m trying to dec
ide if I should shave the hairs on my chin or wax them off.” Cathy Guidry called back, examining her face in the mirror under the unforgiving overhead light.
“Girl, if I were you I’d go for the wax, and don’t stop at the chin. That thing under your nose is getting so fuzzy I’m afraid it’s going to craw away one day. You got enough sideburn action going on you could be an Elvis impersonator,” Tutti said, blowing his handiwork dry.
Cathy backed away from the mirror, admiring her five foot two, one hundred-sixty pound body. She thought she looked hot in her white wife-beater tee shirt and men’s tightly whitey underwear. “Ha, ha. You’re so funny. This team doesn’t need another Rock Star anyway.”
Tutti’s eye’s brightened. “That’d be the shit! Me channeling the spirit of Little Richard and you the spirit of Elvis. I could help you with your costume. Vegas period, baby.”
“No thanks. I’ve earned my mantle as The Dyke the honest way. I’ll never forget that day they sent me in to repair the water leak on the nuclear reactor core. I couldn’t get it to stop, so I held my finger over it until the reactor was safely shut down. I soaked in enough radiation to kill ten people. Instead of dying, Mother Earth spared my life and rewarded me with my super strength for saving the environment. I went from a blue-collar pipefitter to Superhero. Gaia be praised. I think I’ll stick with The Dyke. Why, the very mention of my name strikes fear in the hearts of evil men.”
Tutti under his breath, “Straight mens too.”
“What was that?”
“Noth-innnngggg,” Tutti sang out.
The chartreuse phone on the wall came to life playing its unique ring, ‘Gloria,’ by Laura Branigan. Tutti sprang from the couch and leaped over the coffee table nearly spilling the bottle of Sparkle-icious. The Dyke darted out the bathroom, brushing the door facing, and knocking a piece of molding to the floor.
Tutti’s hand reached the handle first. The Dyke’s hand landed on top of his. Tutti wrinkled his nose and smiled. The Dyke sighed, and walked away.
A Fistful of Zombies: 12 Zombie Tales Page 9
