Sleep Before Waking

This is a story I wrote for one of my favorite people on the planet. It was an attempt to make him smile so it is both goofy and absurd. I hope he doesn’t mind my posting it here, but if he does, it won’t hurt him because I don’t think he reads my blog. Huzzah!

(Story was written in installments with a soundtrack. Each day’s entry is separated by *** and is the point when the next song is intended to start. Enjoy…if you dare.)

Play Aforementioned Soundtrack…

A Day in the Life:

The sound of the car door slamming echoed across the parking lot as Troy stared up at the austere face of the office building. He didn’t bother looking at his watch; he knew he was well over four hours late. His jet setting weekend had run well past its expiration date, but what could Troy do, being as in demand as he was.

He left his car unlocked, knowing no one in their right mind would interact with his belongings without his explicit consent and walked across the parking lot, adjusting himself as he went. The morning air had been cool for the first time in months and as Troy approached the door to his place of employment, he put on his game face.

Troy glanced at Miriam as he entered, sitting at her desk, her phone pinned idly between her jaw and shoulder. As Troy passed, she took notice of him, much to his chagrin.

“Where on earth have you been, Mr. Anderson? I’ll call up and let them know you’re coming.”

Troy stopped mid-stride and glanced over his shoulder as Miriam quickly ended her personal call to proverbially rain on another innocent soul’s parade. He hadn’t expected to need the big guns this early, but without hesitation, Troy lifted his hands to the back of his head, clenched his buttocks, and cocked his hip to the side. The hollow sound of a gun shot echoed off the institutional beige walls as Miriam took the full blast of Troy‘s butthuggers. He heard her take a sharp breath and as Troy walked away, he heard Miriam’s heavy stunned frame hitting the carpet.

The cubicle wasteland lay there before him as Troy entered the office. Heads peeked up over their barriers to catch a glimpse of him as they always did, some with shy darting eyes, others with longing stares, but Troy just strutted past as he always did. A subtle wink to the dark haired middle aged woman to the left and she swooned, a quick double barreled gun hand gesture to the IT guy and he blushed. Troy pressed through the crowd of admirers at the opening to his cubicle as he did everyday.

“Come on guys, I have work I need to do. Autographs later.”

The crowd sighed unanimously before filtering away. As the heads disappeared from beyond the cubicle wall, Troy saw rather large satin panties fly from the sea of faces through the air toward him. They hit the cubicle wall and deflected outward, luckily and Troy turned toward his computer screen.

He was immediately greeted with a foreboding email from the boss.

I need to see you in my cubicle, now.

Troy rose to his feet, pulled up the sleeves of his Tommy Hilfiger sweater, and went fearlessly toward his fate. When he arrived at his destination, the boss looked up sheepishly and averted his eyes.

“Sorry, I was late. I had this -”

“Oh, I couldn’t care less about that, Troy. You know that.”

“Oh. Well, what do you need?”

“We have a very sensitive situation in the office, right now.”

“Oh?”

“Yes and I fear you are the only one I can trust. What are you doing this evening?”

Troy paused, fearing a request for further work. He knew just how to deflect this approach. “Why, you asking me out?”

“No no, Troy! You know I‘m married.” He answered, flustered, turning his office chair away. Yet as it turned, the boss’ fingers fidgeted on his desk. He slowly turned back to face Troy. “But…if I was, would you say yes?”

“Enough of that, we have a serious situation on our hands,” Troy said, heatedly.

“Right right. You’re always so right,” the boss blushed as he turned to his screen. “We have a usurper.”

“A usurper of what?” Troy asked.

“We don’t know. But I need you to find out who it is and…deal with it.”

Troy sighed at the idea of more work.

“Why me? How do you know I’m not the usurper? I could easily be usurper material. Look at my facial hair, it screams possible villain.”

“No, Troy. A man as handsome as yourself couldn’t be this evil…and back to that question I asked earlier. What are you doing lat -”

Troy quickly patted the boss’ shoulder and turned toward the sea of cubicles. “Well, I should probably get to investigating.”

He walked back toward his home base, watching the faces as they peered up. He knew where he would start his search, he knew exactly where.

And as Troy cleared the discarded undergarments from his empty chair, Troy heard the distant sting of the goblin giggle.

***

Since Troy had sauntered in after lunch, he knew he’d need to play this one cool. No group paw wows to drill the crowd for information, no nonchalant queries amongst friends, this was going to be a process. Yet, Troy knew what he had to do.

Find out what the govvies know, go in prepared.

Troy chose his three directives; unsuspecting jabber jaws who wouldn’t think twice of giving up the goods on the Giggler. He planned out his route around the office, low traffic areas where a bit of chit and chat would go relatively unnoticed. Within the hour, Troy would have his reconnaissance and he would get his man.

“So, Matt -

“- Tammy -”

“- Gail -”

“What’s your impression of-”

“How do you feel about-”

“Where does that guy get off being so -”

The answers were as helpful as a screwdriver to a balloon animal.

“Oh man, have you heard him laugh?”

“He seems harmless…”

“Oh, I know, right?”

“Now that you mention him, I am pretty sure the guy is a Leprechaun -”

“I mean, he’s a little odd -”

“I swear to god, he goes to the bathroom seventeen times a day -”

“- He’s like ‘Arrgh! Don’t be eyin’ me pot’o’gold!’ or something.”

“-and he has a very unique laugh -”

“-it’s like people’s tax dollars are paying that guy to take a piss -”

“- I can just picture him over there dancing a jig and stroking his beard -”

“- but other than that, I don’t really have an opinion… really -”

“- and I’ll bet you money he doesn’t wash his hands either!”

“-not that we can see the beard. The beard only appears when he’s alone and out of sight -”

“Why do you ask?”

“- Just makes me sick to think of the buffets I’ve been to with that guy.”

“- cause it’s a magic beard, you see.”

“Did he do something wrong?”

“The sneeze guard is no match for that guy.”

Troy found himself in an interesting place. Within a half hour he’d manage to discover that the Giggler was a harmless, giggling Leprechaun with a weak bladder and bad sanitary habits. Yet, amongst the useless information, Troy saw a glimmer of hope. Tammy had politely kept herself to herself. Troy had a feeling she knew something.

“Come on, Tammy. You must’ve noticed something. Maybe he has a strange tick, a weird habit. Has he done or said something to you that was a little unusual?”

“Well, um…”

“It’s okay, Tammy. It’s just me,” Troy said, giving her the full soul rendering “Troy Stare” (patent pending).

“There is one thing I have noticed that is a little strange.”

Here it was, Troy knew it.

“Yes, Tammy?”

“Well, in the entire time I’ve been working here with him…

“Yes?”

“…I’ve never…”

“Tammy, whatever it is it’s ok. I can use it.”

Tammy took a deep breath and spoke, “…in the time I’ve been here, I’ve never once seen the man eat cheese. “

Troy sighed, agitated.

“Or any dairy for that matter…”

Troy turned abruptly and walked away, embarrassed by the utter lack of info he’d managed to glean from the catatonic govvies. He expected better of himself.

“…maybe he’s lactose intolerant?” He heard Tammy continuing to herself as he rounded the corner of cubicles. Troy realized what he should have known all along. If he was going to get anything he was going to have to get it from the source.

As he approached his destination, a cold chill traveled up his spine. The light of the room, even that of the sunlight in the windows seemed to dim as he drew closer. The sounds of the office; chatter, typing, rolling office chairs, all seemed to fade and go still as Troy found himself at the cubicle of the Giggler. He turned to face the object of his suspicion.

“Hello Mr. Anderson. I’ve been expecting you.”

The quiet giggle tore into Troy with surgical precision.

***

Troy set his mind to fighting the empty feeling in his stomach as he stood face to face with the Giggler. As Troy swallowed hard, an unnaturally wide smile stretched across his foe’s face.

“I see the boss has sent his prize employee to do his dirty work,” The Giggler said as he rose from his office chair to stand before Troy. “And I assure you, Troy, this is dirty work.”

Troy fought the urge to back away from the man who Troy noted as he drew close, smelled of Frito Lays, old coffee, and Sulfur. Troy cringed as the man exhaled into his face.

“Breath mint?”

The giggle returned and Troy couldn’t fight it any further. The room felt soft, as though the walls themselves were moving past him. The lights continued to dim leaving Troy standing in the dark with the weak bladdered Leprechaun with Corn Chip breath. He stepped away, reaching for the cubicle wall to steady himself. Troy’s hand met with empty space as he swayed, his head growing heavy. He turned to find the cubicle wall stretching off into the distance away from him.

“Well, that’s not natural.”

The Giggler, now with an ever growing space in which to dramatically pace, began to circle Troy as he fought to keep steady.

“You’ve no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you Mr. Anderson?”

“You are correct,” Troy said, shaking his head against the swimming world. “But I’m slowing getting an idea.”

The Giggler continued to circle, the smile on his face showing more molars than a normal man should have, or be able to show.

“It is pathetic what your race will send in its own defense.”

“My race?”

“Look at you. Can’t even see straight.”

“Well, now that you mention it, it would really help me out if you’d stop circling.”

“In their final hours, human kind sends you…”

“Final hours? God damn it, hold still.”

The Giggler lunged forward, standing nose to nose with Troy.

“Look around you, Mr. Anderson. Look at your kind, how easily they fell.”

Troy fought to focus in the dim light. He saw the office as it always was, people milling in the silence as though watching them through a pane of glass. Yet something about them had changed. As he struggled to find the error, a face appeared over the neighboring cubicle wall. Troy met the gaze of the IT guy, his eyes empty.

“Hey guy. What’s u -”

The man’s eyes grew wide with fear, then with a sickening crack, he snapped his head to the side, snapping the bones within as he seized, and with a sudden understanding, Troy watched the corpse of the IT guy continue to seize and crumple out of sight. When Troy turned face the Giggler once again, the eyes were no longer those of a human.

“What have you done to them?”

The Giggler looked around, satisfied as more figures appeared over the cubicle walls and succumbed to the same fits. Troy could hear the biting, grinding sound of bones being milled against one another as their bodies violently rebelled against themselves.

“I didn’t need to do anything. They feasted on their own doom. You would have too, I am sure, had you attended that human ritual you so fondly call lunch…at which, by the way, you were missed. It’s not everyday I have a birthday.”

“Oh, shit! Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. That‘s very kind of you. But enough of that!”

The Giggler snapped his fingers and the windows grew dark as though the sun itself were at the Giggler’s command.

“What are you?”

“Not of your time, human.”

Troy’s mind raced as he searched the barren cubicle for a clue, a weapon, anything to inspire him. Yet he found nothing. Finally, Troy knew what he must do.

“So, you really are a Leprechaun?”

The Giggler slammed his open palm against Troy’s chest, heaving him backward onto the carpeted floor. Troy sat up, preparing to jump back to his feet, to attack.

“Hey Troy. You all right down there?” The IT guy said as he walked past to his cubicle.

Startled, Troy covered his eyes as he scanned the newly lit office. The sounds of typing and rolling office chairs, of banter and complaint, all familiar, were all restored. Troy stared before him at the opening to the Giggler’s cubicle, now the same size as his own, now a few feet in front of him. Everything had returned to normal, it had all been a lie.

Troy met the Giggler’s gaze, now sitting in his office chair, twiddling his long thin fingers together as he smirked.

“I won‘t let this happen,” Troy said.

The giggle echoed off the office walls, loud and confident.

“It already has, Troy,” The Giggler said as he leaned forward. “Who will you tell?”

Troy jumped to his feet and headed off toward his cubicle. He felt his heart racing as he looked at the familiar faces of the govvie drones he’d come to know. How could he defend them against this monster? A monster only he knew to exist.

As Troy sat in his office chair, he ran his hands through his hair and struggled to still his mind, to plan his attack. He turned to face his ancient computer and a violent burst of sparks shot from its screen. Troy dodged as the office reacted to the explosion. Troy turned to see the object that had split his computer down its center, now lodged in the far wall of his cubicle. As Troy heard the satisfied giggle rising over the din , he pulled the carved dagger from the wall and rose to meet his fate.

***

Troy scanned the sea of cubicles for his target, finding the unnatural smile stretched across the Giggler’s face just a few yards away. Troy gripped the dagger tightly in his hand, stepped from his office chair onto his desk and lunged over the cubicle barrier toward his prey. The Giggler’s smile engulfed his face as he rose, claws bared with equal tenacity to meet him. Troy grabbed hold of the Giggler’s wrist as their bodies slammed into one another over the cubicle wall, throwing them both off balance. Troy felt his feet slip off the cubicle wall as he toppled over, his ribcage slamming into the barrier beneath. He heard the Giggler topple into the neighboring cubicle as he rolled off the desk and onto the floor, just narrowly dodging the falling computer monitor that had fallen victim to his zealous attack. Troy pressed his free hand to his bruised torso.

“Yeah, that’s probably broken.”

Troy listened for the Giggler’s move, but only heard the sound of office drama in the distance.

“Gail? Somebody help, something’s wrong with Gail,” A concerned voice called.

Troy listened as the govvies filtered and fretted off to discover the ailment of their coworker, leaving Troy to do battle with his adversary and his nerves. He was mildly disgruntled with the lack of response to his heroics, but he hadn’t time to dwell on the thought as the fabric wall of the cubicle began to tear before his eyes. He clutched his broken rib cage and crawled backward from the wall, looking for the dagger that had been loosed from his grasp in the brunt of the fall.

“Well, Troy. This is how you’d have it?”

Troy spotted the dark brown blade on the floor beneath the cubicle desk as two clawed hands slipped through the tear in the cubicle, pulling it apart slowly, as though for dramatic effect.

“You could run, you know? Save yourself. You needn’t die today, Troy.”

Troy scrambled back into the cubicle and under the desk, snatching the blade as the Giggler ripped the wall in twain. Troy grabbed the desk with one hand and pulled himself upward, driving the blade into the Giggler’s torso. He felt it slip into the creature with a satisfying ease. The Giggler’s eyes grew wide as Troy let go of the blade and backed away across the carpeted floor out of the creature‘s reach. The Giggler looked down to the dagger protruding from his stomach. He slowly lowered his clawed hand to the hilt of the dagger, pulled it from its sheath in the soft flesh of his belly and dropped it onto the desk. It clattered and fell to the floor beneath. Troy waited for the creature to succumb, but instead he heard the giggle.

“I’d expect better of you.”

With those words, the Giggler ripped the desk free from its hinges, launching it over Troy’s head into a nearby wall and crossed the barrier to stand over him. Troy heard the voices of the office grow shrill, but still distant.

“I didn’t take you for the kind of man to bring a knife to a gun fight, Troy,” the Giggler reached down and gripped Troy by the shirt, lifting him from the ground with unnerving ease. When the Giggler next spoke, Troy could barely touch his toes to the carpet below. “And with my own knife no less.”

“Well, here I assumed you were trying to be helpful.” Troy heaved his right hand into the Giggler’s stomach, prying his fingers into the open wound. He tore at the raw flesh, feeling the viscera collect under his fingernails as he did. The Giggler flinched at the sensation, dropping Troy mid run. Without looking back, Troy careened around the cubicles, keeping his stride low to the ground. He had to find something to fight with, he couldn’t go in bare handed.

As Troy, rounded a second corner, he heard the office talk he was so accustomed to drawing closer, agitated and heated. He spotted Gail sitting against the office wall, covered in what looked like the entire contents of the office fridge. She now held an open container of copier toner and had managed to make even further mess of herself.

Troy slunk closer to her, “Gail, what’s wrong?”

Her response was to lift the toner cartridge high over her head and poor it into her open mouth. Troy startled away as she swallowed hard and screamed.

“Nothing works! It hurts so much!” She cried, barreling over holding her stomach.

Troy heard the conversation within; “she ate more than anyone at lunch – maybe it’s something she ate – I’m not feeling too well myself -“

Troy watched as Matt and the IT guy came out from the nearby meeting room to see to her, tearing the toner cartridge from her hands.

“Gail, you have to stop. We’ve called an ambulance, everything is going to be all right,” Matt said, reaching down to hold her hand. She held it tightly as he glanced at Troy, making faces of disgust for only Troy to see. Suddenly Matt’s face contorted as he screamed in obvious pain.

Gail sighed in ecstasy as she tore a piece of Matt‘s flesh from his forearm with her teeth.

“Oh, yes! Oh god, yes!” She screamed as she held Matt tightly despite his objections and sank her teeth into his bleeding arm again.

Matt screamed again, pulling with what looked to be all his might, but Gail just pulled herself up his arm, biting and feasting as she rose to her feet. Troy heard the sounds of gagging and screaming from the gathering govvies, but above the cacophony, Troy heard the laughter rising in the distance. He had bigger problems.

Troy slipped back around a corner of cubicles, ducking his head around the corner to see his assailant. There was no one in sight. He quickly slipped down the line of cubicles, keeping his stance low to the ground. He glanced into each cubicle entry as he passed, finding them all empty. Still, he could hear the laughter, subtle and low, echoing unnaturally from all directions.

As he rounded another corner of cubicles, he heard a quiet gasp of breath to his right. He turned to find Tammy, hunched over her desk snacking on something, a deep blush crossing her cheek.

“Hi,” she said, meekly.

Troy felt his stomach drop out from under him as his entire body was heaved upward. He heard his spine crack as it hit the ceiling, a clawed hand pressed hard into his chest. He looked down into the smile of the Giggler before he felt gravity take hold. Troy braced for impact as he dropped to the carpeted floor below. His shoulder slammed hard, momentarily distracting him from the pain in his ribs. Yet, before he could retaliate, the Giggler pinned him there, the fragrant smile just inches from Troy’s face.

Tammy shrieked quietly in her cubicle, now with a front row seat to what Troy feared would be his demise.

“Is that really all you have to offer me, Troy? A bit of cat and mouse?”

“What’s happening to Gail?” Troy asked, hoping a bit of monologue-ing from his foe would give Troy time to think.

“The same that is happening to all of them. Don’t you hear it?”

Troy listened to the sounds in the distance. There were muffled screams much like the tortured cries Matt had emitted before Troy had fled the scene. Yet, amongst the primitive, guttural sounds, there were no words to be heard, no coherent sounds, as though the office workers had devolved in mere moments.

At that moment, Troy turned to Tammy, watching her nervously take a bite of her sandwich.

Troy ignored him, “So, Tammy. Why aren’t you over there with the rest of the office?”

“Yes, actually,” the Giggler said. “What are you doing, Tammy?”

She spoke softly, as though praying they wouldn’t hear, “Eating my lunch.”

The Giggler seemed exasperated as he lifted his face from Troy’s to speak to her.

“You didn’t eat with the rest of us?”

“No?” She chirped, obviously terrified by the ever growing grin.

“Why on earth not?”

“I don’t like buffets?”

“Nobody doesn’t like buffets!” He cried.

“I’ll agree with him there, Tammy. What person in their right mind doesn’t like a buffet?”

“Seriously!” The Giggler nodded, vehemently as he glanced down at Troy.

“I’m picky?” She said, nervously.

“Well, then what are you eating now?” The Giggler asked, annoyed.

Tammy held her sandwich out to them, parting the slices of bread to show their contents.

Troy’s mind raced with utter absurdities, but he had little left to go on. He snatched her half eaten sandwich from her hands and pressed it forcefully into his assailants face. The Giggler raised an eyebrow as he turned to face Troy. For a moment Troy felt truly silly.

“Really, Troy? That’s your grand sche-”

The words stopped short as a strange hissing sound began to emit from the Giggler’s skin. He swiped the food stuffs from his cheek, leaving an open sore in its wake. He pressed his clawed fingers to his face again, this time when he pulled them away, the flesh came with it.

“What have you done?” He demanded as Troy quickly snatched the sandwich back up and pressed it into the Giggler’s forehead. The Giggler swatted at him, shrieking with an equally abhorrent noise as his giggle, but Troy had found his weapon and he would not be deterred. Troy snatched the other half of the sandwich from Tammy as the Giggler slumped off of Troy. Troy attacked at every piece of bared skin; his arms, his neck, his ears, all disintegrating before their eyes as the Giggler screamed. Troy rose to his feet and watched his once terrifying foe melting into the beige carpet.

The flesh had poured away from the Giggler’s face, leaving muscle and bone visible beneath. Soon there would be no face left. With the last words he could form from his near absent lips, the Giggler asked one question.

“What weapon is this?”

Troy tossed the last scraps of Tammy’s lunch onto the liquefied monster.

“It’s a cheese sandwich, asshole.”

Troy turned to Tammy with endless gratitude.

“How’s that for foreshadowing?”

He found her once meek face contorted in pain as Matt bit down on her blushed cheek.

***

Troy cringed as he watched a slow moving swarm of govvies surrounding Tammy’s cubicle. He could see Matt’s eyes as he pulled his prize away from Tammy’s face; they had glazed over, vacant. Tammy’s cries were sickening as bite by bite she was being torn apart. Troy grabbed at the nearest assailant, fighting to pull them away, but the strength of their purpose was greater than his. He punched the IT guy square in the temple, over and over, pulling at his collar, ripping it as he fought, but to no avail. Troy would be forced to watch and listen as Tammy herself became a buffet.

The sounds of her cries troubled him as he was pushed aside by the approaching horde. Troy stepped back, feeling oddly ignored, but the thought was short lived as Tammy’s screams began to subside to low, wet gurgles. He had to find a means to fight, if only to let Tammy die in peace.

Troy slipped away from the cubicle, watching the lifeless faces as they feasted on their prize. He stood yards away, keeping his eyes from the scene, searching the cubicles as he passed.

“Troy…”

He turned to face Tammy once more. As his eyes met hers, her frizzy hair tightly gripped in Matt’s hands, her face congealed and dwindling with every bite, Troy watched her lips move in desperate plea.

“Kill me,” she mouthed.

Troy frowned, but nodded to her request. He darted down the aisle to the remains of the cubicle where the battle with the Giggler had begun. He found the region strewn with wall fabric and bent metal, but there amongst the debris lay the Giggler’s brown blade. Troy snatched it up from the ground and scanned back to Tammy whose eyes were the only part of her face that remained recognizable. She blinked at him and Troy knew her request remained. He gripped the dagger by the blade, hoisted it over his shoulder and launched it across the office toward her. The dagger clanged into Tammy’s face sideways and bounced to the floor. Tammy’s eyes seemed to glare as the horde rose up around her, pulling her from Troy’s sight.

“Note to self,” Troy mumbled. “Learn to throw daggers.”

“Twas a valiant effort though, if I do say so myself,” a voice said. Troy turned to face its source and met the now confident gaze of the Boss.

“I try.”

“I am pleased to see you’ve survived this long.”

Troy raised an eyebrow. “You too?”

The Boss chuckled as he crossed his folded shirt sleeved arms across his chest.

“It speaks volumes that you were able to defeat my partner.”

“Partner?”

“Yes, I know. Why would someone like me go into apocalyptic business with that guy? Well, I’ll tell you,” The Boss said, leaning against a cubicle wall. “Draws attention away from me, of course.”

“Should I assume you’re lactose intolerant as well?”

“Oh no, no. He was half human, that was his vice. I am free of such ailments.”

Troy looked to the door, gauging the distance between him and freedom. Yet, as he scanned the office he noticed the flesh eating horde had filtered away from Tammy’s cubicle and was now slowly heading around the corner in his direction.

“Yeah, there’s no where to go, Troy,” the Boss said, smiling. Unlike the Giggler, the Boss’ demeanor, his face, his eyes, all seemed normal; human. Yet as the horde began mingling around him, they were oblivious to the feast he offered. Troy backed away across the mangled remains of the cubicle wall into the opposite cubicle only to be met by the gory remains of Tammy’s face, her eyes now equally empty, equally hungry. Luckily, someone had managed to chew the lower half of her jaw from her face, so Troy relaxed as she reached the cubicle opening.

“This is your apocalypse? An office full of people eating each other?”

The Boss laughed as Troy lifted himself up onto the desk.

“This is just where it begins.”

Troy kicked Tammy’s hand loose from his shin as he hopped his legs up and over the wall into the next cubicle. The crowd groaned, inching forward. Troy knew by Tammy’s senseless pursuit that whatever the govvies suffered from was contagious. If they were allowed to leave the office, seek open ground, the entire base, if not the cities, could be destroyed.

“So, a few shambling middle aged government workers? You’re on an army base and you pick the govvies? Man, I should go into apocalyptic business for myself if this is what the current market is producing.”

The Boss chuckled, though his tone was strained when he spoke.

“This is just one of the spawning grounds. There are many more,” he said.

“How many more?”

“A few.”

“There aren’t any, are there?”

“Yes, there are.”

“You’re just making that up.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” the Boss grew obviously flustered.

“So, in essence, if I just off all these bastards, crisis averted? Done deal.”

Troy grabbed hold of the nearest computer monitor and heaved it into the small crowd to his left. Two of the govvies went down, another backing away, confused. Troy snatched a three hole punch from the desk, lunged out into the aisle and began hammering the office tool into the govvies foreheads, alternating with each blow. Their legs twitched with the assault, but within a moment, both figures went still. Troy glanced up at the cautious fellow who’d backed away. Troy noted a hint of survival instincts, for the gentleman hobbled down the aisle away from him, joining his peers behind the Boss on the opposite side. Troy glared over the wall at the crowd, noting trepidation in a couple faces.

“For an apocalyptic zombie horde, they seem a little timid,” Troy said, gripping the hole punch in his right hand.

The Boss smiled.

“Give them a moment. They’re well fed.”

As he spoke, the Boss held his arms out, displaying his bare flesh to the crowd at his back. With obedient reverence, the govvies lowered their hungry maws to the Boss’ forearms, taking bites as politely as though they were at afternoon tea. Yet, with every taste, their faces contorted and their voices rose in objection. Something about his flesh failed to satisfy. As Troy watched the gory scene unfold, the undead crowd growing all the more unruly, the Boss’ smile grew ever more satisfied.

Troy felt moved by sudden inspiration as he turned and sprinted toward the door. If he could just find a way to lock them in, he could get help, and more importantly, let someone else deal with it. He’d been lucky enough thus far to avoid staining his sweater, but another round of ‘stomp the cranium’ might be pushing it. Troy wrapped his fingers around the door handle and pulled, but the handle was ripped from his fingers as something grabbed hold of him and slammed him onto the carpeted floor. The Boss lowered himself down to speak to Troy, his voice as soft as a lover’s.

“There is nothing to be done, Troy.”

“Well, yes there is. I quit. May I leave now?”

The Boss smiled as Troy saw the figures approaching from the other side of the office. Though their lust had returned, their motor skills seemed to fall short.

“Miriam will have gone on her merry way into the world by now. The deed is done,” he said, glancing up at the slowly approaching crowd. “Is this how you saw yourself dying, Troy?”

“No. I’m pretty sure that involved a tropical island -”

“Being feasted upon by your coworkers-”

“- and old age -”

“- a faceless victim to the apocalypse.”

“- and you’re not listening to me, so why bother explaining?”

The Boss sank closer to Troy, an intimacy he’d have avoided if at all possible.

“There is another way, Troy.”

“Is there?”

“A specimen such as yourself could be useful to us -”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Work for me and enjoy the spoils of our conquest.”

“What? And be like the Giggler? No thank you. I‘m actually mildly fond of dairy.”

“No, not the Giggler! He was only a half demon, a minion. I offer you so much more.”

“A half demon?”

“Of course. Master would never send two full blooded demons to the same-”

“Demons? Of course. Could have told me that a while ago. Would have been marginally more prepared.”

The blood caked faces of the govvies began to filter into view, hovering over Troy and the Boss. The Boss raised a hand to them and they obediently waited.

“What will it be, Troy?”

“What were the options again?”

The Boss groaned angrily and glared at Troy.

“Join me, be immortal, reap the rewards of our success… or death.”

“What kind of benefits package are you willing to offer me?”

“Damn it! NOT death! How’s that for a benefits package?”

“Mmmm, I’ve seen better.”

The Boss slammed his hand against Troy’s chest, pinning him firmly to the floor. Troy felt the weave of the carpet scratching against his bare neck as he fought to simply breathe. Troy watched the Boss lower his hand, releasing the govvies from their holding pattern.

“It saddens me, but you’ve made your choice. Feast, children,” the Boss said, his mouth close to Troy’s as the faces approached from above. Troy felt the heat of their breath, the wet of the blood at their mouths, still warm as they descended. Troy’s head began to swim, the pressure of the Boss’ hand still crushing his chest. As Troy’s vision began to blur he saw a pair of huge satin panties rain down from amongst the horde. With miserable acceptance, Troy closed his eyes.

The sound seemed to come from every direction, a blast that would shake the dead, (pun intended). Troy felt the pressure on his chest lighten as he opened his eyes to see the business end of a black combat boot meet with the Boss’ right temple. The Boss toppled to the side, the boot following, pressing into his neck with the figure’s full weight. As Troy watched the Boss’ face, the sole of the shoe hissed against his skin, sending the overwhelming stench of sulfur into the air. The double barrel of a sawed off shotgun lowered to the Boss’ forehead and Troy closed his eyes as the blast obliterated his once employer’s face. Troy wiped a clump of viscera from his own cheek noting with disdain the state of his sexiest sweater as the boot slowly traveled over him. As it passed, he saw carved into the tread of the boot, an ornate cross. Troy could hear the sounds of slaughter all around him, squealing govvies taking shotgun blasts much like the one that left Troy’s bed mate an empty steaming husk.

As Troy turned to see his savior, he took a moment to consider what sort of person would be stomping around the world with crosses carved into the soles of their shoes. When his eyes met a familiar green eyed face, he understood.

“Well, handsome, “she said as she pumped the slide action of her shotgun. “I’ve said it once, I will say it again. You’re lucky I like you so fucking much. Damn shame about that sweater, though.”

 

(Yes, the green eyed monster mentioned in the end is me… So the moral of the story IS; if you would like to Survive Zombie Apocalypse, be friends with me. To be included in the guaranteed “Saved from Zombie Apocalypse” group, email me directly and I will send you an application. Otherwise, you’re on your own.)

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