A Good Distance From Dying

by David Carroll

  This side entrance was the area where the production workers would sit and smoke during breaks or lunch. At the far end, across from the two glass doors we had just stepped through, were a set of doors which led to the outside. These doors were heavy duty glass and would automatically lock upon closing. It was through these doors that we could see what had been happening for the last two hours.

  Across the street from our card manufacturing plant is an open field. Maybe someday somebody would buy this land and build a headquarters for a cable company on it. This company would happily cheat people on their bills for years before everyone would finally get wise to their games and get satellite.

  But this was now, and at the moment there was what looked to be the remains of an airplane sitting in the field. Burning wreckage was lying all around our building as the winds blew the black smoke of the downed aircraft towards the main highway.

  “Where are the police? The ambulances? The fire trucks? Why is nobody here?”

  Sass had valid questions. Why was there nobody outside to help contain the damage or save any survivors. It was just a hunk of twisted metal lying in a field with fires burning all around. Had there been such a social collapse over one plane falling to earth that the emergency workers were called into the cities to stop the looting? It made no sense. Was the plane carrying some super poison or highly radioactive lab hamsters? As I scanned around all I could see was one man walking away from the wreckage towards our building. He adjusted his path a bit and it seemed as if he was walking directly towards where Sass and I stood.

  He must have been hurt because he was walking with a rather pronounced limp. His path was swaying back and forth as he walked. His arms hung limp at his sides. The freaky thing about the guy was his head. It just seemed to bounce around like he lacked the strength to hold it up. Every so often he would hoist it up and look at us. After this he would correct his path and begin to weave his way towards us again. I pointed him out to Sass telling him that something was really wrong with this guy. Sass began to watch him as well and agreed that things seemed a bit off.

  As the staggering man came closer to us I started to make out more details. His shirt and pants were ripped as if he had been thrown into a wood chipper, and his shirt was soaked in something I am deciding to call blood. As well, he was missing one shoe. One other detail really stuck out as I watched the staggering man come closer.

  The staggering man was definitely dead.

  C H A P T E R F O U R

  “Dude! Check it out! That guys dead!”

  Sass gave me a look. It’s a look that psychiatrists save for those “special” patients. He calls me “Crackhead” not because I am some hopelessly addicted drug fiend. He calls me that because the way I see the world is not like most everyone else. The way I see the world is, I guess slanted is the best way to put it. I hear and see everything through a fairly perverted filter.

  While we’re talking about nicknames I guess I should explain Sasquatch’s. It’s pretty simple; he’s really, really tall. I swear if he isn’t seven feet, he didn’t miss it by much. I decided one day that if Bigfoot ever snuck out of the forest and shaved himself down, he would look exactly like Sass. Therefore, I began to call him Sasquatch. This was eventually shortened to just Sass.

  “He’s not dead.” Sass said after giving the guy another look.

  “Dude, swear to God, that’s a zombie out there.” “There are no such things as zombies.”

  “Maybe there wasn’t yesterday, but let me give you

  exhibit A.” For shear, dramatic effect I pointed at the staggering man. “That right there is a zombie. It would seem that today they exist.”

  Sass gave me another disapproving look. We once again settled into watching the staggering man as he limped closer to our building. From behind him and off to his right another man appeared. He was running as fast as he could, but everything about him seemed wrong.

  Just like the staggering man, he was unable to hold a straight line as he ran. It seemed as if he had no balance at all. Imagine a baby that just started to walk trying to run like a gold medal track star. That would be how this guy was running. Unlike the staggering man, this new guy had no problem holding his head up, but he was having a problem keeping it from bouncing all over the place.

  The running man overtook the staggering man and was now crossing the road right outside the door. The scary thing about this turn of events was, he wasn’t slowing down.

  “Dude!” I shouted with just the right amount of alarm. “What?” Sass said. He had yet to realize the running guy was a human bullet and his target was the door directly in front of us.

  “He’s not slowing down.”

  Sass evaluated the running man, “No…he’s not.”

  “Is this door thick enough to stop that idiot zombie?”

  Sass looked at the door. “Yeah, he can’t break it. And he’s not a zombie.”

  Running Man was nearly upon us. Sass and I each took a step or two back as the guy loomed just outside. We braced for impact. The runner hit the door.

  He never broke stride. He slammed into the door at full sprint. Inside the building it sounded like a stick of dynamite had gone off. During the impact the glass cracked where his head hit. I watched as the front of the guy’s face exploded against the door. Blood and snot flew all over the glass making the nastiest Rorschach test to ever be created. In it I saw a butterfly sneezing out what looked to be Elvis from his movie Blue Hawaii.

  Looking away from the psychological test that now resided on our side door I spun back around to face Sass. His mouth had fallen open as the visuals of the impact had affected him rather noticeably. Whatever thought he now found himself lost in was about to be disturbed. I raised my voice and, in an accusing tone, spat out the only logical question I could think of.

  “Okay, you’re going to tell me that wasn’t a zombie that just brained itself on the door?”

  Sass looked at the guy lying on the grass outside. The force of the impact had thrown him completely off the sidewalk and he had landed six or eight feet beyond the doors.

  “Something is going on here. But it’s not zombies.”

  Staggering man was now crossing the road and would be at the door in a matter of minutes. I looked at him and knew that Sass was about to come face to face with a fact he was not going to like.

  “Okay fine, they’re not zombies. But if that’s the case, could you please explain to me why staggering man’s jaw is about to fall off?”

  Sass looked. There was no doubt that the guys jaw was being held on by a miracle sent down from the big man himself.

  “Holy shit.” Was the only comment that Sass could come up with.

  We watched in silence as the staggering man reached the building. He stood immobile for a moment then drew both arms up and began to pound on the glass. The impact of his punches eventually weakened his jaw enough that it fell to the sidewalk. I found the entire episode hilarious and had begun to laugh at the poor dead guy.

  “What are you laughing at?” Sass demanded.

  “He just knocked his own jaw off. You don’t find that funny?”

  “No, I really don’t. Why’s he trying to get in here?”

  “Well, he’s a zombie. He wants to eat us.”

  “He is not a zombie.” Sass said sticking to his guns.

  “Listen, Sass, it doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t zombies. What matters is, they are trying to get to us. I believe, if they do get to us, things will get all bloody and screamy. That will not be a fun moment. We need to get out of here. We need to do it now.”

  The pounding sounds from the jawless zombie had drawn the attention of three others that were now walking towards the door. Sass saw them coming and knew I was right.

  “We can’t leave this way, and I don’t want to go back through the factory. That only leaves the front offices, the front doors.” Sass said.

  "I'm right behind you."

  The front office and the
production floor are connected by a glass enclosed walkway. I felt completely exposed as we walked the length of that fishbowl. Looking out both sides you could see staggering shapes everywhere.

  “This is bad.” Sass said as he watched the shambling forms in the distance.

  “Yeah, they’re everywhere.”

  Sass stopped and turned around to face me, “No. If these things are zombies, like you say, then they’re supposed to be slow, right? Why was that one able to run?”

  I’m not sure what had happened in the head of the Sasquatch to help him decide that I was right and the creatures outside were in fact zombies, but give him another point. Yes, zombies by themselves are bad, but running zombies add a whole new level to the danger surrounding us. He was looking to me, but I had no answers. I simply shrugged and nodded towards the door.

  “We really shouldn’t linger out here.” I said.

  Reaching the end of the glass hallway, we stepped into the offices. Like a modern-day Aladdin and Jasmine, we had entered a whole new world. Pools of blood stood in the hall by the door. Bloody streaks ran down the walls going towards the front doors. We stood in silence for a minute listening for any sound that could be labeled as coming from a now dead maniac. I could envision a group of zombies in the cubicle closest to us holding a mirror out to see where we were. They would be communicating with Navy Seal hand signals getting everyone in position to pounce and munch on us. If I listened hard enough and held my head just right I could hear a whisper of a voice saying, “Eat the fat one first, I bet he tastes like bacon!”

  Damn my love for pizza! Maybe, had I known it was going to be the death of me, I wouldn’t have devoted my life to the pursuit of those round slices of Italian heaven. Had I known that one day zombies would hunt me down and devour me because of my love for the sauce, the pepperoni, and the cheese, perhaps I would have been able to show some restraint.

  Sass had seemed to have listened long enough to be satisfied that the front office was zombie free. He took a step forward. I was a bit more of a skeptic. Bacon boy knew the dead had a taste for his sweet, sweet flesh.

  “Shit or get off the pot.” Sass said as he took another step forward.

  “I’d much rather stay on the pot a bit longer.”

  “Come on Crackhead, we stay here we’re dead. We have to do this sooner or later.”

  I was amazed at how quickly Sass had gone from denial to “man of action”. It was either a tremendous show of his fortitude and willpower or a horrible demonstration of how desperate he was to have an encounter. Did he want to get up close and personal so he could prove these zombies weren’t zombies?

  At the end of the hall was an open area where the reception desk sat. Sunlight was streaming in through the front of the building, which is virtually all glass. Two glass doors lead you into the entryway and then there are two more glass doors that lead out to the parking lot. These doors are much larger than normal doors, but they are just as thick, if not thicker, than the doors the jawless wonder and his friends were busy trying to beat their way into.

  Through the front of the building we got a better look at the world around us. The airport, which was maybe a mile away, was engulfed in flames. The sky was full of rolling black smoke.

  Most of the cars were gone from the parking lot. This was good for two reasons. It meant that our co-workers may have gotten out of here before the zombies began feasting on the locals. It also meant that there were fewer places for sneaky ninja zombies to hide once we made our run for a vehicle.

  “Your van or my truck?”

  I looked at Sass like he was an idiot, “Well, you know me, my van is on empty as usual.”

  Sass sighed, “My truck then, it may do us good to have the four-wheel drive.”

  “Yeah, that was my next point.”

  Sass just rolled his eyes at me. “Can you see any of those things out in the parking lot?”

  I looked as best as I could, but the architecture of the building made it hard to see anything except what was right in front of the doors. There could be a horde of zombies just a few feet to either side and we would never know it until we ran right into them. I told Sass that I was going to check the rooms on either side of the entrance and take a look out of the windows. I exited the doors and turned left to where the conference room was. The door was open; as I inspected it I found that there was nothing alive or dead waiting for me. Looking out the widow I couldn’t see anything lurking by the entrance. I left the conference room and headed across to the other side of the entryway doors. This was the office of our Human Resources woman. She had never really seen eye to eye with anyone on the production floor. However, I was always nice to her for two reasons. First, I was absolutely positive that if you gave her a reason to dislike you, she would cut your throat and maybe even get you fired. Secondly, if the opportunity ever did present itself, I planned to be in good shape to take her clothes off her body. Long shot you may say to which I would answer with the boy scout motto, and I was determined to be prepared, you know, just in case.

  The door to her office was cracked open. When I peered through the crack I could see a shadow moving back and forth on the far wall. I could make out a soft wet smacking noise repeating over and over again.

  Sucking up all the courage that I had left in me, I opened the door. As it swung inward I stood frozen in fear as I found myself face to face with the step-drag monster.

  C H A P T E R F I V E

  I have never been a big fan of horror movies. I’m talking about the ones with the seven foot tall killers who can walk faster than the naked sorority girl can run; that kind of movie.

  It wasn’t that I have anything against naked sorority girls. I just couldn’t understand how a person could be as stupid as they are in those movies. For example, the naked college kid opens the door to the bedroom where the other naked co-ed is waiting to get some sweaty pig sex going on. But instead of seeing naked teenager number two when she opens the door she finds herself looking at the killer who is busy skewering naked number two with a harpoon. Don’t ask where he got the harpoon; you’ll ruin the illusion.

  I always thought to myself, “The killer is right there in front of you. Turn around and RUN!”

  I would ask at great length, “Why doesn’t she just run?” It never made any sense to me.

  Now I can explain it to you. Why doesn’t she run? If opening the door to find a seven foot tall maniac is anything like opening the door to find a hungry zombie in search of a bacon binge then the answer is simple. You want to run, you intend to run. In your heart, you know the plan is to run. The trouble is your brain is so busy trying to figure out why you couldn’t leave well enough alone that the signal saying “RUN” never makes it to your legs. They never get the message so you never run.

  Looking back, it seems so simple.

  As the door opened, the first thing I saw was the HR woman face down on her desk. The step-drag monster had its face buried in the back of her skull. The wet smacking sound I was hearing was him pulling bits of her brain out.

  I had two feelings wash over me simultaneously. I was nauseated almost to the point of throwing up watching the monster feed, but I was also a bit sad that I would never get to take the HR woman’s clothes off. Well, I guess I could still take her clothes off if I could successfully deal with the monster, but something told me it really wouldn’t be the same.

  I’ve already told you that the HR woman wasn’t well liked in the plant, but as much as we didn't like her, there was another individual who was liked even less. He was the quality control supervisor, and he was a certified “A numbero uno” moron. I would watch in absolute amazement as he constantly failed at his job. He would yell at anybody who happened to make a mistake. I don’t mean he would get red faced and give you down the road. The yelling he would do was more like if your girlfriend’s drill sergeant father learned that you knocked her up on the second date while on his bed that was covered with “Old Glory”. Nobody, and let me r
estate to make sure it is understood, NOBODY liked this guy. Not the president of the company. Not the salespeople. Not the other QC people. Not the pressmen. Not the machine operators or the packers. Not even the cleaning service that came in four times a week. This guy was honestly the biggest jackass I had ever had the displeasure to know. And the funny part of it all was that he and the HR woman absolutely despised each other. They were constantly at odds, which created riveting entertainment for us production workers.

  The door hit the wall and bounced back towards me. The rebounding “thwack” of impact drew the monster’s attention. It stopped moving and was completely still for a moment before it began to lift its head out of the feed bag. As the face cleared the skull he was still looking away from me, but then he slowly turned to see what had made the sound. I found myself frozen in place as the monster made eye contact.

  I was reminded of the Natural Geographic specials where they are filming lions on the hunt. The lioness can see the prey through the high grass. Slowly it turns its head towards its intended target and prepares for the chase.

  Watching the monster turning to face me, I knew then what the gazelle feels like. It’s not a good feeling at all.

  Looking at the step-drag monsters face I realized that this was another person I knew. The step-drag monster’s name was Gregg, the QC supervisor.

  He began to stand up having now forgotten about his arch enemy in life. The step-drag monster, like Gollum, preferred his meals “raw and wriggling”.

  I stepped into the room and grabbed the doorknob with my left hand. My right hand was waving at Gregg as he began to step-drag around the desk.

  “Don’t worry about getting up Gregg, I’ll get back to you later.” I said as I shut the door. Spinning around I made for the entryway. Sass looked up as I cleared the first set of doors.

  “Could you see anything?”

  “Time to go.”

  I wasn’t breaking stride, I was heading for the second set of doors.