Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Zombie Problem Log Invasion: Day Three

There are always more of them. I've never seen so many.
Must not think about how tired I am. My backless business casual clogs seem to weigh thirty pounds a piece.
I duck behind a cubicle wall and listen as the Customer Advocate shuffles past, moaning about printing issues.
I suppose his day isn't going any better than mine is. He just stopped caring once he was overwhelmed.
Not gonna happen to me.
No way.
I adjust the weight of my manager across my shoulders, evenly distributed so as not to spoil my balance, check the process and documentation on the combat shotgun and peer out into the hallway.
There are so many. I think they know I'm here.
One between me and the door.
I head for the stairwell. As usual, the one working elevator is so slow I suspect it is fueled with whale oil.
I try to get my mind off the weight of my manager. Think of something else.
So heavy.
Could this whole situation have been avoided?
We tested. The users had the new environment for three months.
How were we supposed to know they weren't using it? They'd been 'testing' the old stuff they'd been using for years.
Of course that worked like they expected.
-- Holy crap! One's seen me!
But then we turned the old stuff off. And this happened.
The stairwell is packed with them.
I think the last of the living left hours ago. Like I should have.
Remember my training. According to Article eleven, sub-paragraph four, line three of the Employee Respectful Workplace Handbook, with the remains of our command structure draped across my shoulder, I'm on my own here.
I need to get to the front of the building, first floor.
Ground floor only opens into the back and the woods are teeming with the living dead.
Maybe if I cut through Accounting.
The hallway is a mess.
Someone pulled a vent out of the ceiling and now duct work and wiring are hanging like entrails.
Did someone pull that down trying to escape? Or trying to feed on the living?
There is no time for analysis.
So tired.
My manager shifts a little and I dare to think he may be coming around, soon he may be able to support himself.
"We're almost out, boss," I say,"I'm gonna get us o-OW!"
He bit me!
Too late for him.
I begin to realize how alone I am here.
And the door is still a long way off.
Two by the Coke machine.
They see me.
The gunfire is bringing more of them.
I'm so tired.
I glance around a corner, looks like about four of them clustered around the Security desk.
Be thorough.
I look again.
There are two by the couch obscured by the ficus. If I'd missed those, it would've been over.
Remember orientation. We covered all of this and I'm ready for it.
Think about getting out.
My wife's hair smells nice.
I have to make it home.
Running out of time.
I step around the corner, firing.
Got him!
Hours of playing Unreal Tournament has honed real skills, apparently.
He was a fast one. Two to go.
They lurch forward.
I've got you, you miserable undead monsters.
Ha! I'm going to make it!
They thought they could stop me! Me!
Your inability to print means nothing to me. Nothing!
One is left.
This guy is between me and freedom.
I almost feel sorry for him.

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