Zombpocalypse (Book 1): Contingency Read online

  Unlike most days, it seemed to be surprisingly easy to find a parking space in the Overflow Lot that day. However, it dawned on me as I walked up the sidewalk towards the McGinley building where I worked that something was strangely unsettling. I’m not talking about full-fledged creep out type weird, but more a Bill & Ted ‘strange things are afoot at the Circle K’ moment.

  Normally, this particular stretch of the sidewalk would be bustling with people. Today there seemed to be no sign of anyone. For a moment, I wondered if I had wandered into some episode of the X-Files by accident.

  Making my way up the sidewalk, I slowed down. Without the benefit of my normal distraction, the lack of noise and people seemed to make this particular place seem off. If anything, the world seemed isolated, devoid of anything familiar or expected, and that made my hair stand on end.

  Pausing for a moment, I decided to really take notice of what seemed to be happening, or more correctly, not happening in the world around me. First thing I noticed was the lack of a certain snooty waiter (whom I had dubbed 'Pierre')bustling about the outdoor tables of the posh café to my left. As a matter of fact, the outdoor tables of said establishment remained unmanned, their chairs flipped up and resting on the tabletops while chains held them locked into place.

  While I could not stand Pierre, there was an unspoken war that I thrilled in winning every day. One of those silent ‘fuck you’ wars that only some people understand; allow me to tell you, they can be a help or a hindrance.

  These kinds of wars are based on people’s perception. In this case, Pierre the Snooty had a problem with me. Every morning I would walk by and he would look on me with something akin to disgust. I would meet his gaze, smile happily and keep moving towards work as if what he thought didn’t concern me. A ‘fuck you’ war is truly that simple and yet complex. The beauty of these little campaigns is you never speak a word. If you do, the spell is broken and there is a likelihood that cops will get involved, so you keep the silent war raging and whoever can hold out the longest wins.

  Make no mistake − this conflict was not based on some simple slur or insult. After all, there will always be one person you don’t like and who despises you. My little war with Pierre was far more than that. For months, he had looked down his nose at me as a paying customer, but it had been seeing how he acted with other people that solidified his place in my mind. No matter who he interacted with, he always seemed set on making people feel shamed for being less that what was expected. I’d seen him yell at small children, insult expectant mothers, pick on the unfortunate, or just flat out be dismissive of other people in such a manner that it caused them to slouch and slink off. Thus, making him my nemesis in the fuck you war had been my own little brand of vigilante justice.

  Brushing past the café, I moved further up the sidewalk only to have another disheartening experience. I’ve already admitted I’m not great at the social stuff, but there are a few people I had grown fond of in my time here. One of which happened to be a New York transplant named Justin that worked the small deli cart that could normally be found outside the McGinley Building. It seemed that this morning, he too was conspicuously absent. While normally I would have brushed such a thing off, coupled with the lack of people around I can admit to a healthy amount of mounting worry.

  Whether it turned out to be a godsend or just bad luck, before I could delve further into the rabbit hole my phone began to peel out the strains of ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’ to remind me about my obligation to the GNP. (That’s Gross National Product for those of you who might not know.)Duty called, so I set aside my thoughts and marched onward.

  Silencing my phone as I walked, my rush to make it to work blinded me to the rest of the world. I did not see the absence of cars driving down the street or hear the sound of sirens off in the distance. I was wholly focused on making my way into work to get this day over with.

  The McGinley building was a fortress for the rich. One of the newer buildings in the Charlotte area; it stretched high up into the skyline as a monstrosity of glass and metal. Let’s be honest, anyone who makes a building this tall and gaudy had to be compensating for something.

  Be that as it may, I was a lemming. A mere worker bee heading into the hive ruled by royals who made the big money deals while their soldiers in middle management cracked the whip over the rest of us.

  Funny thing though, worker bee or not, there is always that one defective model. Occasionally you had one of the others in a different caste break the mold, but those situations normally ended badly. Even in human society, conformity is what paid off. Me? I’ve always been a non-conformist. Truth be told, I would have happily walked in daily with both arms up and handing out one fingered salutes to every one of these assholes if I thought I could get away with it.

  Instead, I kept my head down and my mouth shut as I shuffled across the courtyard leading towards the lobby of the building. Today would be no different than any other, so I began to gird my loins against the onslaught of stupid I would encounter.

  I lifted one arm, pushing at the rotating glass that served as a door before stepping into the spacious lobby. A few other worker drones milled about the open area like free-roaming cattle, each of them dressed in the appropriate attire for their work day: Red polo shirts for the IT department, Yellow shirts for shipping and mail – whoever had come up with the idea of color coordinating the departments in the company deserved to be shot. I couldn’t help but think that one of the managers from upstairs would look down on all these worker bees scrambling and think, “Ha ha, which red shirt shall we send to their death today, Captain?”

  Against the background of pristine white marble and cold shining metal, the splashes of color in awkward patterns was nauseating to say the least. As disturbing as it could be, the worst part was that after a while it became…normal.

  Across the lobby, the security desk stood like a black altar meant for sacrifice among the ivory backdrop. Two security officers in their powder blue shirts stood nearby, scanning people in one by one while the line of workers formed in front of them. While I did not envy them the problem cases and grind of paperwork, I did envy their freedom to move about during the day.

  A sharp whistle somewhere off to my right caught my attention. That ear-splitting, high pitched sound had me stumbling slightly as I tried to ascertain the reason for such a sound. Had the hounds finally been let loose on the masses? Was some crazy bird caught inside the lobby? Turning on my heel to try and trace the source of the sound, I ran straight into the wall that was Isaac Palmer.

  One of the security guards that worked the day shift, Isaac happened to be another one of those few people that made my day a bit more bearable. Standing at close to six foot five, he had a hulking frame of massive muscle, sinew, and flesh. A former football player for the Panthers’ second string, he remained an intimidating sight to behold. Isaac was the kind of guy that you couldn’t help but think of a freight train with the way he moved about.

  The man had once been a power house on the field. Lauded as one of the best lineman that had ever graced the turf; it had been a knee injury that had ended his career and brought him back to everyday life. Now, instead of facing off with powerhouse teams and ogling cheerleaders, he was here living the life of a security guard.

  Speaking of, at this very moment said hulking mass of human bulldozer was grinning down at me like I had done something cute, like twirl in a tutu before pirouettingmy ass back to the entrance. Dark brown eyes twinkled down towards me as large hands gripped my upper arms to steady me before he chuckled.

  “Sorry, didn’t think you’d turn around so quick.” One large hand lifted to rub his bald head ruefully.

  Few people realized that Isaac Palmer was nothing more than a giant teddy bear. For all his fierce appearance, he always seemed as gentle as a newborn lamb.

  “It’s fine, Isaac. I wasn’t paying attention.” One hand lifted to pat the man on the arm as I continued, “No harm, no foul.”

&n
bsp; “So, what are you up to this morning that you’re runnin’ so late, sexy momma?”

  “Now, Isaac, if you keep saying things like that I might just think you mean it.” Pulling my hand back from his arm and moving it behind me to pull the ID card out of my back pocket to hand over to him.

  “What if I do mean it? You’ve never really asked.” His hand enveloped mine, those long fingers easily covering my own for a second too long as he pulled the card from my suddenly tingling digits. Unable to look away as he scanned my card, my tongue darted out to lick my suddenly dry lips while I waited.

  Now, I’m not gonna lie. Isaac is a fine looking man. From those broad shoulders and the barrel chest tapering down to a slim waist, one couldn’t help but admire the near Herculean build. High cheekbones and a slightly crooked nose gave his face a sharp definition that sent a small little thrill racing through me every time I found myself watching him. That said, I just couldn’t see him being serious in the things he said to me.

  “Aw, Isaac. You’re sweet, but I bet you say that to all the ladies.” Heat flooded my cheeks as I looked away trying to play off my embarrassment. When my card was handed back to me, I noticed him staring down at me with a look on his face I couldn’t quite place.

  “Pft. You know better. Besides, I don’t like them stick ladies upstairs. For all their fancy talk and clothes, they couldn’t handle none of this. I like me a real woman. Ya know, a woman with curves and a brain.” Sad as it is to admit this, his words were the closest thing I’d had to a compliment in years. Well, from anyone outside of family. I couldn’t help but blush a little as I twisted slightly to deliver a friendly hip bump to the man in question.

  Unfortunately, that did nothing to alleviate the awkward tension that suddenly seemed to electrify the air between us. Hoping to tip the scales back into the realm of reality, I tilted my head back to look up at Isaac and smile.

  “I wouldn’t let those ladies hear you saying that. They think they run the world up there in that ivory tower.” Moving to pin my ID card to the lower portion on my shirt, I tore my gaze away from his. God knew, I had no intention of fastening my badge to the collar of my polo shirt. The last thing I wanted was some greasy office manager staring at my boobs just to read my name, let alone drawing Isaac’s attention there.

  However, Isaac’s next question threw me for a loop.

  “Why aren’t you one of them? I mean…” Shock had frozen me in place as he uttered the very question so few people dared to ask. Unable to grasp the fact that this was in fact happening, my eyes slowly shifted to observe him as he continued, “…You’re one of the smartest ladies I’ve ever met. Pretty, too. So why aren’t you up in that ivory tower, so a man like me can come save you? You should be up there makin’ the big bucks, unlike most of them.” For the second time that day, I almost felt the need to tear up. Still, it took me a moment to collect my thoughts in order to answer him. For most of that time, I stared at him blankly. In the end, it only seemed right to give him some random, nonchalant answer like I gave most outsiders.

  “If I went and did that, Isaac, you’d never see me in the mornings.” Slowly, I moved to step back, trying to give a small shrug as if I had not a care in the world. There was a darkening of his eyes as something flashed across his face, before a low rumbling growl of a laugh sounded on the air.

  “I would find a way to see you. That is one thing I can promise.” Isaac leaned down then putting his face only a couple of inches away from my own. I knew that unless I wanted to make a scene, the best thing I could do was remain stock still. Chocolate brown eyes peered into my own with a small spark of warmth before he smiled. “See you at lunchtime?”

  “You know it.” Those words left me in a small rush of air that made it sound like I was whispering the secrets of the universe to some hallowed entity.

  What is wrong with me? All of the sudden I sound like some breathy, romantic female lead in a cheesy movie, and I could have kicked myself for it. Ugh, he had just been playing around. Maybe Robbie had been right and I needed to get laid so I could stop acting like some love sick puppy whenever someone gave me a compliment.

  Needing an escape, I moved as quickly as I could to walk past the metal detector and straight to the elevator bay. Ducking my head, I shuffled into the small car like a sardine into a can and I could swear I felt Isaac’s gaze on me the whole time. I refused to lift my head, but I was pretty sure that if I had looked in the reflective metal surface of the interior I’d have seen my cheeks flushed a bright red like someone had turned on a space heater in front of my face.

  I’d known Isaac for three of the five years I had been working here, but this had been the first time I blushed when we ran through our morning banter. Something was different and it set me back a little. Damn Robbie for putting that idea in my head this morning. While I am sure there could have been worse things, at the moment I couldn’t think of one of them. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you if I was afraid he would be watching me or not. Now, I guess I’ll never know.

  Chapter Three – Welcome to Hell…

  The ride up to the twentieth floor in the elevator was just as you would have expected it to be. Dull. Not, ho-hum dull, but the instrumental version of Justin Bieber’s ‘Baby’ on constant repeat dull. Two minutes in and I found myself ready to claw my own eyes and shove pencils in my ears to bust my eardrums.

  For a brief moment, I entertained the thought of getting out on the next floor and ascending the rest of the way via the stairs. While it could be argued that would be more agreeable, at the moment I didn’t feel overly motivated to do such. My mind currently occupied by my conversation with Isaac downstairs, it occurred to me that today had me questioning many things that I normally wouldn’t. Such a distraction was far better than meeting my untimely end to teeny bopper pop music with an extra side of suck.

  Still, the idea of telling Isaac the truth as to why I had been relegated to the IT department was weighing heavily on me. To do that, I’d have to explain to him just why I even had a job here in the first place. It’s not like it had really been my choice. If it had been up to me, I would already be back home where things made sense.

  To tune out the drone of that horrid music, my mind wandered to the last few years. A lot of people couldn’t understand why I would stay here in this area if I was still so miserable. After all, three hours was not that much of a drive. Hell, I could probably get a plane ticket and just fly back for a small amount of money. Sadly, that just wasn’t how reality worked.

  Telling Isaac the whole story would require rehashing things that had happened with Jim. Much like this morning on my call with Robbie, the idea of venturing into that subject made my stomach turn. Past relationships were always an ugly discussion, but in this case, I could make a case for the person in question ruining my life in more ways than one. Jim just so happened to be a hot button for me, no matter how calm I tried to be. Whenever I thought on him I had a tendency to rage, more over my own stupidity in the situation than anything else.

  Isaac seemed to be a nice guy − I mean, I did talk to him about daily. Yes, there was flirting, but a part of me just couldn’t believe it was real. Soon, I’d leave this city, forget this job and go back to the place where I felt content. A place I never would have left if I’d been smart enough to see the truth about Jim.

  It had been fairly easy to buy in to the fairy tale he spun for me. Leaving town to go to an area with better paying jobs. He had convinced me that if we both worked, in a couple of years we could walk down the aisle and start our happily ever after.

  To anyone only a couple of months out of college and looking to start their life, that plan seemed foolproof. For me, who fancied myself in love with Jim, it screamed perfection. So, with no reservations I’d agreed to move three hours away to be near one of the busiest cities in the state.

  In the beginning, things had seemed as if all was going to plan.Jim had found a job and I put off my plans to become the next Anne Rice to find so
me kind of employment to help afford the apartment that we’d found. The cost of living had been higher here, so I’d been happy enough at the time to take any job I could find - thus, my employment at the McGinley Corporation. It hadn’t seemed like such a burden at the time because I was young, in love, happy. We were starting our life together..

  Within a few months, reality set in. For all his bluster and blow, I worked more hours than Jim. His excuse was work being seasonal, but I suppose even I knew that his excuse was a cop out. I explained it away though, even going so far as to convince myself that I was just being paranoid. Then came the time when he made any excuse under the sun to stop from going out in public with me. Or the sly insinuation about my gaining weight, or being lazy when I would come home and fall into bed after a ten hour shift.

  My need to believe that things were bearable left me open to so much hurt. While I continued to work long hours and extra shifts, Jim spent more time at home. The amount of times we went out together grew fewer, while his journeys out to the store or the bar became more frequent. Still, I made excuses. Our work schedules were just out of sync, I was tired from overwork, he had errands that had to be handled. For a long time, my need to believe that everything happening had a purpose kept me blind to the truth.

  Up until the day I came home to find Jim in bed with a woman who I had thought was our friend. My perfect world had shattered and in short order I found myself alone in a half empty apartment and with a stack of bills all in my name to be taken care of.

  For the first few months, I’d been in a daze. Each day bringing a new realization or problem. Between nursing my own wounded pride at being played and sinking in the quicksand that was responsibility, I quickly began to flounder. Once that had passed, I took the time to formulate a plan that would ensure an easy transition to get back home. In a perfect world, I’d get home and find a job that suited my needs, but on the off chance that didn’t happen, I wanted to be prepared. So, I made a list of all the things that I needed to have in order before I could leave.