Early Morning of the Living Dead

by Raye Larson

  “Yes, sir.” Weatherby left.

  To Zach; “Close up the R&D area. I don’t know when things will settle down but if we lose power, I want to be careful where the generator’s power goes.”

  Zach frowned. “That’ll kill some of my projects.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Blake looked thoughtful. “Tell you what: keep half powered up. I respect the work you’ve put into your projects but if those things can take out the police, I worry about how long we may have to survive on our own.”

  Blake looked at Charlotte. “We should get you out of those clothes.”

  Zach coughed softly. “Buy her dinner first, Spencer.”

  Several dinners. And possibly some jewelry. And even then, Charlotte would still say no.

  Aloud, Charlotte said, “I won’t be posing for Cosmo anytime soon but my coat took the brunt of the bloodstains. That was fairly easy to get off.”

  Blake shook his head. “If the things outside can make someone like themselves with a bite, that means their blood’s likely infective. You may not have any cuts or scratches on you now but if you accidentally give yourself a paper cut or something–”

  “Fuck.” Charlotte began undoing her shirt buttons.

  “Such language.”

  “I have a BA in journalism. I know my way around a compact sentence. What I don’t know is virology.” Charlotte undid the last of her buttons.

  And then stopped.

  She didn’t want to undress there. There weren’t any creatures at the window but there still wasn’t any need to flash skin in a place where one of them could happen by and see her.

  Blake and Zach watching her also wasn’t helping either.

  Well, it was, in that at least Charlotte could now count on them to never say the dreaded you'd be so pretty if...

  They hadn't seemed to look twice at her before, though, and having them look at her now was surprising.

  Maybe it was the stress. Maybe fighting zombies made them so happy to be alive they now appreciated beauty wherever they saw it. Maybe she was just that exceptionally beautiful.

  It didn't matter. She might be pretty but she wasn’t easy.

  “I don't suppose you have some clothes in a lost and found box,” Charlotte said. While she was supposing that, she'd hope something would be in her size. She had a spare change of clothes in the trunk of her car but she doubted she’d be getting to it anytime soon. “And a bathroom, to get the blood off my skin.”

  “We can do better than that.” Blake motioned to the dark hallway. “We have a small gym on site. There’s a shower and towels. My people vary in... um, physical attributes so we'll likely have something to your liking.”

  Vary in physical attributes. What a charming way of putting it.

  “Thanks,” Charlotte said.

  “I'll get her in there and then go shut off half the things in R and D.," Zach said. “I also think it’d be best if we disinfected her.”

  “Do we have anything we could use?” Blake asked.

  “Some rubbing alcohol, maybe.”

  This wasn’t virology 101 so much as remedial virology. Charlotte was thankful for it.

  “Get her whatever we have, then,” Blake said. “I’ll see you both in fifteen minutes.” He picked up his cell phone. “Hopefully I’ll be able to reach our friends down south by then.”

  “How far south?” Charlotte asked.

  “Near Los Angeles.”

  “Where–”

  “Anything more than that would require an NDA.”

  “Seriously? You'd want me to sign an NDA During a zombie uprising?”

  “Yes. Zach, if you’ll please escort her to the gym.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Charlotte followed Zach across the room, scowling at his back. “We're going to be working together. I could use all of the information I could get.”

  “Possibly. It's not up to me.” Zach led Charlotte down the hall.

  "What is up to you?" Charlotte asked.

  "Right now, escorting detail."

  "Is that a new thing or something you do normally?"

  "New thing," Zack said.

  “How long have you worked with him?”

  “Twelve years. I was there when we first worked out of his kitchen.”

  The great Blake Tech had very humble beginnings.

  Charlotte meant no ill; the Spectator began out of Derek’s dining room. It was her, Derek, and Faith, desperate after being laid off and making plans for world domination. They...

  Focus. Charlotte was there. She was safe. She was unhurt. She...

  Derek and Faith would’ve wanted her to be safe.

  She wanted the same for them.

  “Sometimes I miss our kitchen office,” Zach said. “The cookie jar was always within reach.”

  Charlotte smiled. When they moved out to where the Spectator was now, she’d missed being so close to her favorite sushi place. They'd later found the Bean, though, so it wasn't like they'd had any problems with–

  Oh God. Food.

  “What kind of supplies do you have here?” Charlotte asked. “Do you guys have a cafeteria or a kitchenette? I think Blake said something about a generator? What’s the water–and coffee–situation? If it takes the authorities more than a day to get things under control, will we be okay?”

  “Wow,” Zach said. “You can go on, can’t you?”

  Charlotte had a few exes who could’ve assured Zach that she could. And not in the ways they would’ve preferred.

  “Seriously,” Charlotte said, “how is the coffee situation?”

  “The coffee situation is great. We have some bags in the walk-in freezer. We have a walk-in freezer, by the way, located in the back of the cafeteria’s kitchen. I hope you’re not a vegan, though, because we get shipments three a week and while most of the food could be rationed out, the fresh stuff will likely go first.”

  “How about the generator?”

  “It’s outside–”

  Shit.

  “–in a little walled off alcove by the back patio. There are locks on it, and while getting to it might be a challenge right now, it’s well hidden. No one will be stealing it anytime soon. On the bright side, we have several solar panels on the roof.”

  “What about first aid?”

  “I don’t know too much about that. I suspect that if anyone was bit, all of the Band-Aids in the world might not help.”

  “Probably.”

  Zach stopped in front of a closed door. He whisked out a key card and unlocked it.

  “And here we have the gym,” he said, opening the door.

  The gym was large, perhaps twice the size of Blake’s office. There were a line of treadmills against one wall, a weight set, and a handful of medicine balls. Lockers lined one wall. Windows lined another, offering a view of the tree dotted parking lot.

  And the zombies outside.

  A half dozen of them shuffled across the lot. A couple were missing arms. One was dragging itself along the ground, leaving a bloody trail in its wake.

  “No curtains?” Charlotte asked.

  “Sadly no. Software engineers rarely get a lot of vitamin D.”

  Today it looked like they were getting an abundance of vitamin Z.

  Zach crossed the room, motioning to a hall off to the right. “The mens’ shower is to the right,” he said. “The women’s is to the left, but you’d need a key to get inside. I'll find you something you can change into now and we'll find you something more girl-y later.”

  "Sweats and t-shirts can be quite girl-y."

  “My younger sister would be happy to hear someone else say that.” Zach frowned.

  He'd probably just realized his sister might be in danger.

  "Where is she?" Charlotte asked.

  "Los Angeles. She's studying film. Hopefully this won't get that far."

  Hopefully.

  “Go on ahead and start cleaning up,” Zach said. “I’ll grab something for you and then go give her a call.
Just toss your stuff around the corner and I’ll shove them in a bag and bury it at the bottom of the garbage.”

  Definitely remedial virology.

  “Thanks,” Charlotte said. "I hope your sister's okay."

  Zach smiled a little. It wasn't a happy expression but it was sweet. "Thanks."

  Charlotte headed down the hall to the right side, following a shadowed corridor around a corner to a nice size shower area.

  And a tall mirror in the corner.

  Charlotte had once dated a guy–Koffee, real name Mike, but there were always ten thousand Mikes wherever he went and only one Koffee–who said you could tell how deep a person was by how quickly they checked out their own reflection in whatever mirror crossed their path.

  By Koffee’s standards, Charlotte was amazingly shallow.

  By Charlotte’s standards, she was always ready to interview someone at the drop of a hat.

  If Charlotte had a hat right now, she wouldn’t be dropping it anytime soon.

  Her silk shirt, once white, was now camouflaged in dirt and blood. Her auburn hair had gone past tousled to egads. There was a bit of blood streaked across her left cheek and perfect nose. Her jeans were spotted but her socks, to spite her, were perfectly clean.

  Charlotte frowned at her socks–damn inanimate things, always spiting her–and began undressing.

  By the time she was down to her white bra and underwear–cotton, silk might be pretty but cotton was more comfortable–her clothes were gone and a pair of dark blue sweats, matching t-shirt, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol had appeared.

  Charlotte poured a generous amount of alcohol on a hand towel, was briefly buzzed by the scent, and then proceeded to give herself the coldest and most sterilizing hand bath ever. By the time she was done, she was light headed but clean.

  “Parker?” Zach said. His voice was startled and quiet.

  Charlotte began pulling on the sweats. It sounded like zombie apocalypse or not, someone wanted to work out.

  Not that that was a bad idea. Right now, Charlotte wished she’d spent more time on the treadmill she had at home. She could probably outrun the zombies but–

  “Have you been bit?” Zach asked.

  Charlotte yanked the shirt on. If someone had been bit–

  Blake would never have let them inside.

  “How did you get in?” Zach asked.

  “I found Chaucer outside. I searched his pockets and found his keys.”

  Fuck.

  Charlotte hurried around the corner.

  As she approached the gym, she saw Zach standing near a tall blond man in a gray suit. The man clutched his left arm.

  “Shhh,” Parker whispered. “If anyone finds out–”

  “I am anyone,” Zach said, his tone worried.

  “What happened?” Charlotte asked.

  Parker jerked, turning towards her.

  “Charlotte Stevens?” Parker asked.

  Parker knew about her?

  “You know her?” Zach asked.

  “Yeah. She’s a reporter for the Spectator. Her photo is beside her weekly op-ed.”

  Wow. One of her three fans.

  Two, after the zombie’s bite was finished with him. Or Blake found him.

  Charlotte hoped she could keep Parker safe. Just for a few minutes.

  “So what happened?” She asked gently.

  “We heard about some riots,” Parker said. “Weatherby let some people out. Some of us waffled about whether or not to go out, and by the time we decided to go out, the area looked deserted. We thought we’d be okay.”

  “That was suicide,” Zach said.

  Parker frowned. “We didn’t know what we were dealing with.”

  “What happened?” Charlotte asked.

  Parker glanced at her. His skin had grown pale. “My car was out front, but I knew Chaucer parked near the back. I got his keys and was halfway to his car when someone attacked me. I got away but–” he lowered his hand, revealing a bloody tear in the sleeve of his left arm.

  Past the fabric, Charlotte saw a bite mark.

  “Did any of the others get bit?” Zach asked.

  “A couple. Maggie in accounting, Blaine in marketing.”

  “Did they come back to the building?” Zach asked.

  “No. Maggie made it to her car and Blaine... didn’t.”

  God. Those poor people.

  And poor Parker.

  Zach looked at Charlotte. “Spencer needs to know about this.”

  And by this, he meant Parker.

  “He’s going to want–” Charlotte didn’t want to say it in front of Parker. The man was more alert than Chaucer had been. It seemed cruel to make his final moments worse.

  “To quarantine anyone who’s been bit?” Zach asked.

  Charlotte wished.

  “Huh. It would be a good idea.” Zach studied Parker and then looked at Charlotte. “Can you watch him while I get Spencer?”

  “Okay. You’ll need to hurry. And...” How to say this? “We might need to secure Parker.”

  “Point.” Zach removed his tie.

  “What do you mean, secure me?” Parker asked.

  How to explain this?

  “The people outside...” Charlotte gnawed on her bottom lip. “They’re not well.”

  “I figured,” Parker said. “Why does that translate to tying me up?”

  “They’re infectious.”

  “Crazy can’t be transferred.”

  “Today it can be.”

  “Parker,” Zach said. “What our esteemed friend can’t say is that...”

  Could Zach say it?

  “This is just a more elaborate kind of tourniquet,” Zach said.

  That would be a no, then.

  Parker backed away. “It’s just a bite. Whatever’s wrong with the people outside, I’m not like them.”

  “We need to be careful,” Charlotte said. “Please.”

  Parker stilled. “Fuck.”

  It seemed the magic word still had a little magic to it. No one liked it, though.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.

  “I can’t believe you agree with this. And that I’m going to hold still for it.”

  “If we’re wrong–” they wouldn’t be “–I’m sorry.”

  “Okay. Hurry up. Just so you know, I’m going to write you an angry letter when I get back to my laptop.”

  Charlotte desperately hoped that he’d be able to.

  Zach drew Parker’s hands behind his back and tied them together.

  “Maybe you should secure the tie to something,” Charlotte said. “One of the treadmills perhaps.”

  “I’m also going to give your paper a terrible review,” Parker said.

  “I don’t have enough tie for that,” Zach said. He tugged at his knots and then looked up at Charlotte. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

  “All right,” Charlotte said.

  Zach left.

  Charlotte and Parker looked at one another. Parker’s skin had grown gray.

  “The people outside aren’t rioters, are they?” Parker asked.

  “No, they’re not.”

  “Shit.” Parker slumped against a wall, winced, and then stepped away from it. “I was certain they were just on something. Seeing you and Zach dance around it...” He looked at Charlotte. “Do you want to shove me out the back door?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Blake will, though. That’s what you didn’t want to say.”

  Her readers were brilliant. Or she was obvious.

  Maybe both.

  “We watched Chaucer die,” Charlotte said. “Blake wanted to put him outside because he was on the cusp of dying. Blake was also still dealing with the shock of the situation. I don’t know if he could look someone in the eye and do that.” Charlotte hoped, anyway.

  Judging by Parker’s expression, he did as well.

  “I’ll be here,” she said. “I’ll argue with him. I can argue a long time.”

  Parker’
s lips twitched. It was a smile. A frown. It meant the world to her.

  “I saw someone torn to pieces,” Parker said. “I can still hear him screaming. I didn’t know a person could scream for so long. Looking back, I should’ve realized then what was happening. I think I was too afraid to. I think–”

  A tremor swept through Parker.

  He slumped against the wall.

  Charlotte began to approach him, wondered if she should get too close, and then frowned.

  Parker was hurt.

  Charlotte was afraid of getting close.

  Let them be honest; she had few friends because she was afraid of getting too close.

  Let them be brutally honest; getting close could get her killed today.

  “I’m scared,” Parker whispered.

  Charlotte was too.

  “I think the authorities will be working to get things under control,” she said. “Maybe in a couple hours the military or the police will be by.”

  Parker looked at her. “Do you really think that?”

  Charlotte wanted to think that.

  “I used to have the police beat in college,” Charlotte said. “I went along on a couple ride-alongs. The police are trained to deal with people who try to bite them. Apparently, that was something they and hospital people have to deal with. If they’re trained for that, I think the military will be as well. Given time–”

  Parker thrashed violently, jerking from side to side.

  And then slumping against the wall.

  “Parker?”

  Silence.

  Charlotte waited. Parker had gone quiet before. Maybe this was like that time.

  Maybe it wasn’t.

  Charlotte waited. She knew there was a chance the man wasn’t going to respond. She knew it, knew she should back away, but even as she inched back, she still wished Parker would respond. Tell her that he was going to start a hate blog for her articles or start his blog and compete. Anything, as long as he was still him.

  Parker shuddered.

  “Parker?”

  The man released a breath.

  Turned towards Charlotte.

  And blinked gray filmed eyes at her.

  Charlotte drew back. Parker was gone. Not-Parker was there.

  And hungry.

  Charlotte wished she still had that baton.

  Not-Parker moaned.

  And threw himself at Charlotte.

  Charlotte hurried back. She needed a weapon, distance, something–