THE ZOM ZOM CHRONICLES Chapter 4 The Stairwell of Networking Doom (And Kevin from Marketing)

Here is Chapter 4 of Zom Zom, picking up right at the stairwell door.

THE ZOM ZOM CHRONICLES

Post Title: The Stairwell of Networking Doom (And Kevin from Marketing)

Date: Tuesday, The Longest Day Ever

Mood: Sweaty and deeply appreciative of cardio.

Current Status: Catching my breath on the 3rd-floor landing.

I hate stairs.

Even before the world ended, I hated stairs. Now, imagine climbing them in the dark, clutching a mop-stapler-spear, while a woman in a pantsuit critiques your breathing technique.

"In through the nose, out through the mouth," Brenda whispered harshly. "You are hyperventilating. It’s unprofessional."

We entered the East Stairwell. It was dim, lit only by those eerie red emergency exit signs that make everyone look like they’re in a submarine movie. The acoustics were terrible. Every scuff of my sneaker sounded like a gunshot.

We made it past the second floor without incident. I was starting to feel confident. I gripped the Ex-Calibur. I felt like a warrior. I felt like a survivor.

Then we hit the third-floor landing.

The Meeting That Should Have Been An Email

The door to the 3rd floor (Marketing & Brand Synergy) was propped open with a recycling bin. And standing there, blocking our path up to the 4th floor, was a small cluster of Zom Zoms.

But not just any Zom Zoms. These were the cool kids.

I recognized Kevin. Kevin is—was the Head of Digital Outreach. He was wearing skinny jeans, a vintage band t-shirt, and a blazer. He looked trendy, except for the fact that he was currently gnawing on the railing.

He stopped chewing. He turned. He saw us.

Zom. Zom. Zom.

"Oh god," I whispered. "It’s the Influencers."

Three of them turned toward us. Kevin, a girl named Ashleigh (with two 'e's), and an intern whose name I never learned but who always stole my almond milk.

They didn't run. They didn't shamble. They brunch-walked. It was this fast, eager stride, like they just spotted an open table on a patio.

Combat: Round One

"Kevin," Brenda barked. "This is a restricted area. Return to your desk."

Kevin did not return to his desk. Kevin lunged.

I panicked. I admit it. I thrust Ex-Calibur forward.

The good news: The scissors worked. I jabbed Kevin right in the blazer pocket.

The bad news: The duct tape held, but the mop handle was old.

CRACK.

The handle snapped. I was left holding a splintered stick, while Kevin—now wearing my scissors like a brooch—stumbled back but kept coming. He reached for me. His hands were clammy. His mouth opened wide. I could smell the espresso and rot.

I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared to be eaten by a guy who wears loafers without socks.

WHAM.

A heavy, metallic CLUNK echoed through the stairwell.

I opened my eyes. Kevin was on the floor. Brenda stood over him, holding her heavy-duty, metal-bound clipboard like a tennis racket. She had backhanded him with the force of a thousand rejected expense reports.

Ashleigh (with two 'e's) hissed and swiped at Brenda.

Brenda didn't flinch. She pulled a can of compressed air (keyboard cleaner) from her pocket and sprayed it directly into Ashleigh’s face.

PSSSSHHHHHHHT!

Ashleigh recoiled, confused by the freezing blast of air.

"Go!" Brenda yelled, shoving me toward the next flight of stairs. "Move! I will not have my Q3 projections derailed by entry-level staff!"

The Climb

We scrambled up the last flight of stairs. I could hear the Zom Zom chewing noise getting louder behind us. The intern was gaining on me. I threw my heavy-duty stapler (which had fallen off my stick) at him. It hit him in the shin. He didn't care.

We hit the 4th-floor door. It was locked.

"Keycard!" I screamed. "Brenda, the keycard!"

Brenda fumbled with her lanyard. Her hands were finally shaking. Just a little.

The intern was five steps away.

Four steps.

Three.

BEEP.

The light turned green. We fell through the door and slammed it shut just as a fist pounded against the other side.

Safe?

We are in the hallway outside the Server Room. It’s quiet here. The air conditioning is humming.

I looked at Brenda. Her bun is slightly askew. Just one strand of hair is out of place. It is the most terrifying thing I have ever seen.

"You saved me," I panted. "You clipboarded him."

Brenda straightened her jacket. "Kevin has always been a disruption. Now, let’s get the data. Then we can discuss your broken mop. That was company property."

We are safe for now. But the Server Room door is ajar. And I hear a low hum coming from inside. Not a computer hum.

A purring hum.

ENEMY PROFILE: THE MARKETING ZOM ZOM

Scientific Name: Homo Brand-Awareness

Danger Level: High (They travel in packs).

Weaknesses: Compressed air, heavy clipboards, and possibly bad WiFi.

Distinguishing Features:

• Better dressed than you.

• Still wearing Bluetooth earbuds.

• Will eat your brain while thinking about how to tweet about it.

Would you like me to...

• Write Chapter 5, where they enter the Server Room and find out what is making that purring sound (Is it Mister Whiskers? Is it a mutant server?).

• Draft a "Performance Review" that Brenda writes for Kevin the Zombie during their downtime?

• Create an Inventory List of what loot they find in the Server Room (Cables, Energy drinks, A nerf gun?).