The Dead Saga (Novella Part 2): Odium Origins (9 page)

I run in my little black kitten heels, constantly tripping in them. They were bought specifically to look cute with my office wear, not for running from monsters! I check over my shoulder again to make sure that he’s still following me; he is, leaving a trail of blood behind him like we’re in some crazy horror movie. Jeez, I guess we are.

I pass my desk, only now really taking in the devastation of my small booth and wondering how I missed this previously. I glance around the office as I run, noticing overturned chairs, blood smeared across desks, and all the once neatly stacked paperwork is upturned onto the floor. Over by Caroline’s desk is another one of these weird cannibal men. I shiver and give a loud wolf whistle to get the second man…thing’s attention. He looks up from whatever he was doing and begins to stumble toward me. I’m both relieved and horrified that he’s following me, because blood trails down his chin like he’s spilled a Bloody Mary cocktail down himself.

I jog down to the end of the hallway and arrive at Mr. Slewson’s door. Each side of the hallway is adorned with gold-framed pictures of him winning different types of awards or shaking hands with different famous people. The entire thing feels so overindulgent, like a walk of fame, with Mr. Slewson being the prize at the end—and even in this intense situation I can still manage a roll of my eyes at the obnoxiousness of it all. I knock lightly when I reach his door (old habits die hard) and chance a quick glance behind me. I can hear but not see the weird men, since they haven’t quite turned the corner yet.

I knock on the door again, harder this time. “If that’s Max then come in. Anyone else can piss off until later this afternoon,” his voice yells from within. “I’m busy.”

I glance behind me once more and see that the two bloodied men have just turned the corner and are following me down the hall of fame. I straighten my skirt down as I enter—again with old habits. The door swings wide open, and I open my mouth to speak but pause when I see Mr. Slewson. He’s lying across the top of his desk, resting up on one elbow and wearing nothing but a tie and an award-winning smile that shows off his bleached white teeth.

“Mr.…ummm.” I frown, feeling a hot blush creep up my cheeks despite the fact that there are two cannibal-type men behind me, and I try not to look at his erect penis. “I ummm…”

He smiles again and sits up, his legs swinging over the edge of his desk. His fan still turns from left to right, blowing his hair as if he’s on some crazy naked fashion shoot. “I figured that you owed me. After all, you’ve chipped my tooth, and that is going to be seriously expensive to fix.” He jumps down from his desk, his butt making a loud squeaking sound as it slides against the wood, and he strides toward me, his penis bobbing with each swaggering step and making me want to vomit. “And I think you’ll find it beneficial to both of us. This could vastly improve your chances of promotion of course.” He stops in front of me and sneers. “Best shut the door, darlin’, before someone sees all the things we’re about to do to one another.”

He reaches across and runs a hand down my cheek, and I nearly miss the telltale growl of dead-man-walking behind me. I flinch away from Mr. Slewson’s fingertips and he scowls at me, his hand gripping my shoulder and tugging me inside. He pushes the door to close it, but I manage to slip out of one of my shoes and leave it blocking the doorway and stopping it from latching as he leads me over to the desk.

“Enough of this cock-teasing, Max. It’s time to show you what a man can do.” He scoffs at me, and even though fear has shot up my throat and is threatening to spill out of my mouth any second, I don’t. I see the thrill in his eyes and I pale at the dark expression on his face, but I hold the ace card—he just doesn’t know it yet. “I know you’re going to love this, so just relax and enjoy the ride. I’ve never had any complaints before.”

He pushes me, bending me over the desk, and I bite back a whimper as my face slams onto the warm wood where his ass just sat. He’s so busy with eager hands pulling at my skirt that he doesn’t hear the sound of the door creak open. His hands grab at my panties and start to tug them down, and he misses the slow shuffle of undead steps coming toward us.

If I wasn’t so scared I’d smile, but that doesn’t stop me from being pleased at my plan and what I have no doubt is about to happen next.

Men: they always underestimate the blonde. Assholes!

I take a deep breath and force a smile. He notices it, and his hand pushes my locks away from my face. “That’s the spirit. I knew you’d see sense eventually. You just needed a real man to show you the way.” He leans down and licks the side of my face, and I gag at the smell of his breath and the feel of his erection pressing against my ass cheeks. “I’m going to show you a good time, Max.”

“I told you Mr. Slewson, my girlfriend already shows me a good time.” I look to the floor and see feet, and with a hard push up, the back of my skull connects with his nose for the second time today. I see stars as our skulls connect, my vision swimming as I push away from the desk and him and nearly trip on my underwear around my ankles.

He yells out a mouthful of curse words, but they are suddenly drowned out by the sound of his screaming. I turn to see both bloodied men attacking Mr. Slewson, dragging him to the floor and biting into his body. He looks up at me frantically, his hands, only a moment ago greedy to get into my panties, now reaching up for me to help him.

“Max!” he yells loudly. “Max, help me. Get these fucking things off me!”

I lock eyes and smile at him as I pull my panties back up. “Sorry, Mr. Slewson, but this isn’t in my contract.” I step around him and the cannibal men as quick as I can and head to the door on shaky feet. I reach the doorway and slip my AWOL kitten heel back on and straighten out my skirt as I look back in at him.

His face is pale, and blood bubbles up out of his mouth as one of the men bites down on his throat, cancelling out his gargled scream.

“Let me know if there will be anything else, Mr. Slewson. I’m going to take an early lunch.” I click the door shut behind me and head back down the hallway, barely holding onto my sanity as I struggle to control my manic laughter.

I turn the corner at the end, and my laughter erupts into screaming as hands grip onto my shoulders and I stare into cold blue eyes.

Constance slaps my cheek hard, and I stop my screaming and dive into her arms. She holds me tight against her chest and I breathe in her familiar scent until my heart rate dips to something more normal.

I pull back and look into her face. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?” I trace a small scratch on her cheek, and she winces and pulls away. “There are some men here. They’re sick, Constance, we need to get help.”

“I’m fine, but I don’t think help is coming anytime soon.” She smiles at me, her usual cool, collected self despite the situation. “I was at work and heard what was going on, it’s all over the radio and TV. There was no way I wasn’t coming to get my girl.” She kisses me and smooths my curls back from my face. “We need to get out of here, babes. This disease or whatever it is, it’s spreading, and quickly.”

I nod. “I need to get my things from my desk.” Banging from Mr. Slewson’s office draws Constance’s attention behind me.

“Does someone need help?” She frowns, her dark brows pulling together.

I shake my head frantically. “Hell, no. There’s…” I pause, trying to decide what to call them, but as usual Constance knows what I’m thinking and fills in the gap.

“Zombies.”

“Really?” I cock my head to one side, not really wanting to believe it. “I don’t think they’re zombies. That seems ridiculous.” I scoff.

“I don’t want to panic you, but after what I’ve seen on my way here, what I saw on the news…” She trails off before continuing. “Max, I saw a group of those things rip a man in half and start chowing down on him without a second thought. The police don’t seem to have any control over what’s going on right now either. It’s a shit storm out there.”

“Constance!” I screech, hating to hear her cuss.

“Sorry, babes. But it really is a shit storm.” She shrugs, but at least has the decency to look guilty. She takes my hand and leads us to my desk, where I grab everything I might need and drop it all in my large Dior handbag while Constance patiently waits for me.

“Okay, let’s do this. I know a place in the country we could go. It’s far out, secluded from most places. We could stay there for a while. Ooh, you might want to open the door to the break room, there’s a bunch of girls trapped in there. I hit one of those…zombies with the fire extinguisher and then had it chase me to my boss’s room.” I unpin a couple of pictures of my parents and Chi-Chi, our Chihuahua, and put them into one of the side pockets while Constance continues to stare at me. I glance up at her. “What?”

She grins and shakes her head. “You just continue to surprise me every day, baby.” She wanders off toward the staff room, and I can’t help but smile and feel all fuzzy and warm at her words.

A couple of minutes pass, and I’m all but done with packing up my things, making sure I have the essentials—like my No.5 Perfect Pink nail polish and my Chanel perfume. Priorities: looking good and not dying. Check!

Constance comes back with a gaggle of women following her; she smirks as they scatter to their individual desks to gather their belongings.

I smile as she comes back over to my desk.

“What are you looking so happy about?” I sling my bag over my shoulder and move around to her side. “Zombies or whatever are roaming the country and you seem pretty happy about it.”

“You.” She looks at the other women and then back to me and I notice some of the stares that I’m getting.

“Me? Why?” I giggle, wanting to be let in on the joke.

“They told me what you did. That you beat that zombie thing over the head with the fire extinguisher. You’re like freaking She-Ra or something. Here I was thinking that you were this dainty-looking thing that needed looking after and possibly saving and you’re here beating monsters and saving lives.” She laughs and pulls me into her arms. Her lips press against mine, parting them slightly as her tongue invades my mouth, before pulling back. “You’re amazing, you know that, Max?”

A blush creeps back up my neck and cheeks. “Thank you, Constance. I’m glad that you’re here with me, but yes, I have no doubt that I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt either, baby.” She repeats my words and kisses my lips again, and we turn as one to look at the approaching women.

“How did you get up here?” Eleanor asks. She’s tall and lithe with a neat brown bun tied at the nape of her neck. I always thought she was stuck up until today. Now I think maybe she was just a little shy, and I feel bad for jumping to conclusions on her. “I need to get to my husband.” Her eyes fill with tears. “Oh God, I hope he’s still at home. He works shifts, he should be sleeping now. He’ll have no idea what’s going on if he wakes up.” With each word spoken, her voice gets a little higher, as if just by voicing it she’s freaking herself out.

“It’s K, Eleanor. I’m sure he’s still sleeping. We’ll get out of here and you can go check on him. Let’s not panic.” I use my soothing voice, but it only seems to agitate her further.

“Easy for you to say. You have your partner here with you. We have families that we need to get to—pets, children even. Oh God, my brother has a little girl, she’ll be at day care.” Another co-worker puts an arm around her shoulder and she begins to sob.

I bite my lip, refusing to argue with her. I have family: my mother and father, and Chi-Chi of course. She’s at home, and we’ll have to go and get her before we go to my parents’ house. Constance is estranged from her family, so I know she won’t want to go there—which is good, because less stops means we’ll be safer.

I’ve seen all the horror movies, and I’ve read the survival books. My secret addiction to apocalypse survival is going to pay off after all. I have my bug-out bag ready to go in the bottom of my closet, and go we will—just as soon as we find out how to get out of here. I look across at Constance with a smile. I can’t wait to see what she thinks when she sees my bug-out bag.

We huddle together as we tiptoe down the stairs. Every time someone gasps, the entire chain of people stops in fear, all poised and waiting to see what will happen next. We continue down the concrete steps once more, the sounds of our slow shuffles echoing down the dark stairwell. Each of us are using our mobile phones for a light, casting eerie shadows across the plain gray walls.

“Ladies, if you could all just keep calm,” I ask in a polite whisper. “We’ll be out of here in no time, and you can all get home to your families.”

Constance squeezes my hand and keeps on walking, the slow shuffle of ladies trailing behind us.

We reach the lower stairwell, and I see dark stains smeared around the doorframe and pooled at the floor. I glance at Constance, but she’s focused on the doorway, taking deep breaths to steady her nerves. She turns to look at me and then the other women before speaking.

“You need to prepare yourselves—it’s dangerous out there, I’m talking really dangerous.” She swallows and ties her hair back and away from her face as she continues talking. “Do you all have your car keys and know where you are headed? When we leave here, it’s everyone for themselves.”

I hear some gasps, and a part of me wants to scold Constance for being so heartless, but deep down I know that she’s right, and I haven’t even seen the outside yet.

“Let’s do this,” I say firmly, more to her than anyone else.

These are my co-workers—my friends, for all intents and purposes—and I wouldn’t wish harm upon any of them, but I have Constance to worry about, and Chi-Chi. My poor baby will be so scared, and I need to get to her and make sure she’s safe.

Constance grips my hand tightly, her fingers entwining with mine. She leans over to me and presses her lips firmly to mine. “You stay with me, no matter what.”

I nod but she doesn’t seem satisfied.

“You do not leave my side,” she says even firmer.

“Okay,” I say seriously. Like I was ever going to be anywhere but at her side at the end of the world.

I hear sniffles and hiccupping sobs behind me as Constance turns the handle on the door, pushing it open wide and letting in the world of crazy that has now become the outside.

I look back once, and mouth goodbye to my friends before I’m pulled out of the doorway and I’m running in kitten heels across a sidewalk scattered in body parts and bloody gore. Screams echo out all around me but I focus only on Constance, on her footsteps, on her hand in mine pulling me forward, and I try not to be distracted by everything happening around me. But so much is going on.

People are being wrestled to the ground by mobs of people—zombies, whatever. Rivers of blood trail the gutters, with stray limbs and bones picked clean of flesh. My stomach flips and turns, but I refuse to be the weak woman in this story. I refuse to die like this.

It’s far too ugly a death!

“Max!”

I hear my name screamed out as a hand claws down my back. I stumble and trip, crashing down hard on my knees and feeling my stockings run and blood flow from my cuts. Hands latch onto my curls, and I instinctively lean back the way I’m being pulled.

A face leers over me, teeth gnashing together, cold gray eyes staring into me as its nostrils flare. My hand reaches out for anything, my fingers finding purchase on something both equally soft and hard. I swing back with it, hitting wildly, until the thing connects with the monster that has me in its clutches. It’s not until a spray of blood cascades down on my face that I realize my weapon was once someone’s leg and I yelp loudly.

The thing is suddenly dragged away from me, taking a clump of my hair with it. I scream and release the bloody leg, my hand instead gripping my head where I’m sure there is going to be a bald spot. I stumble to my feet and see Constance beating the zombie-man-thing with a better weapon than I had: a bloodied baseball bat. It’s stopped moving, but she’s still beating it wildly.

I grab her arm, and she stops and looks up at me with a small whimper. Blood is splattered across her face, probably much like mine, but she doesn’t focus on that and neither do I.

“Let’s go,” I say with a shaky breath.

It takes her a moment to process my words, but she eventually nods. I take the bat from her hands, keeping a firm grip on it despite the blood that trails down the handle and under my nails. I notice that Constance’s arm is cut up pretty badly, though it doesn’t look like a bite.

“Are you okay?” I ask fearfully. I tear the bottom of my blouse and wrap it around the wound as she gasps in pain.

“Yeah, damn thing clawed my arm like it was Wolverine or something.” She inhales as I tie the material tightly.

A sharp scream makes me look up and I see Helena stumbling toward us with one of those things chasing after her. It’s slow as it shambles towards her, reaching for her with arms covered in blood and sores toward her, but she’s slower. She catches my eye, her chin trembling as a thin streak of blood trails down from the top of her head, down the side of her face.

In that moment I feel so much pity for her, and I put aside all of our differences. None of it matters anymore—the snarky remarks, the horrible looks, the meanness that she always exhibits for me. I couldn’t care a less about it, because we’re women, and women should stand by each other no matter what. I jog forward, swinging the bat hard and smacking the man chasing her on the side of his head. It falls to the ground, still writhing around, but ultimately it—he—is out of action, at least for now.

I reach a hand down to Helena and she takes it with a sob, coming to her feet and wrapping her arms around me.

“Thank you, God, thank you,” she cries.

I look back to Constance, who takes my hand once again and all three of us head toward Constance’s car, which is parked across the road. I say ‘parked,’ but it’s kind of squished in between two cars, one of which is so far into the back end of Constance’s Ford that I know without a doubt it just ruled out being our getaway car.