One Night Dead

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You turn from the woman and run the short way back into the office, taking care to lock the door behind you.

With the three glass walls you can see the woman easily, and she can see you. She walks after you, positioning herself against the door where she pushes against it, weakly hitting it with loose fists. What the fuck is going on? You want to call Sarah again but realize you left your phone in the car. You sit down behind the desk defeated until you remember the office phone. You grab it from it’s charger and dial Sarah, but her cell just rings and rings. “Fuck,” you say quietly.

Maybe the TV will help. Your boss had turned on the TV and had quickly hung up. What had spooked him? You reach forward and turn the small thing on, waiting for a moment for the picture to come expanding into view. The TV is usually kept on a sports channel, but here now its news. You wonder if the news is cutting into every channel, and after watching it for a few moments, you realize it must be. The world is in pandemonium. Somehow you had known what the woman was, but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to fully accept it. She was undead. She was a zombie. They were everywhere, this wasn’t just an isolated case. You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse. City after city was on the news, state after state country after country. The dead were returning to life, and they were infecting the living, who were quickly becoming the dead as well. You listened for twenty minutes, hardly noticing the woman banging on the door. Finally you had enough and you shut the TV off and stood. You would need to do something, but first you needed to take stock of your surroundings and what weapons, if any you had at your disposal.

Under the desk was a small handgun with six bullets nearby. You grab this and load the bullets, but to be honest you aren’t very comfortable with a gun, you have never even shot one. You set the gun on the counter for now, not convinced you’re going to take it, but knowing leaving it behind may be a death sentence. You step into the small room behind the main office, a break room of sorts. It has a small refrigerator, a small card table with folding chairs and a few hooks to hang up coats. In the corner is a small island on wheels with one drawer and a larger space below that. You pull open the drawer and extract a long knife and take that back up to the front desk. You set the knife next to the gun and decide to only take one of them. The knife you would be more comfortable using, the gun could possibly keep you safer.

1) Take the knife!

2) Take the gun! Pow pow sucka!


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