“If you came back, where would you go?”
“…I don’t really know.”
He remembered distinctly Dwight mentioning that once you died and resurrected, you would go where you’re most familiar. Where you really wanted to be.
Jim knew his answer. He would wind up beside his desk, by the light of the copiers and security lights, waiting to kiss her. But he wouldn’t tell her that. Of course he wouldn’t.
“But I know where you would go.”
Pam smiled. “Where?”
“My house, hands down.”
She smirked. “You’ve got me all figured out.”
“Or Dwight’s dojo.”
“Well, he does have a purple belt. That’s pretty high.”
“Obviously.”
“Actually…I think I would go somewhere where there weren’t zombies.”
“…Obviously.”
Between eating yogurt, they glanced at each other quickly. After they were done, their hands slid against each other when he reached for her container to throw it away.
“Sorry.”
They got up and went into the main room. Dwight sat at his desk, reading some sort of Harry Potter book out loud to Michael, who sat Indian-style on the ground. Every once in awhile, they would laugh hysterically and say either, “Harry! Oh man, we’re exactly the same! I would so kill that basilisk!” or “Oh Ron, you always mess everything up. You’re so stupid.” Or an intense debate would ensue over whether the flying power of the Nimbus 2000 was better than the Firebolt's.
“Okay, Michael.” Dwight paused at the end of the chapter. “Question. Who would you hook up with if you were Hermione?”
Angela glared at Dwight.
“Wow. Um…” Michael thought.
“You can’t say Jan. Because she’s not in the book.”
Michael shifted uncomfortably as Jim and Pam walked over quietly.
“Probably Draco.”
“WHAT?” Dwight was outraged. “But he has bleached hair! That’s gross.”
Jim spoke. “Lest we not forget the time you went blonde. And as you proved, it IS, in fact, quite gross.”
“Jim, shut up. Draco’s a jerk anyway.”
Michael looked up. “No, I like him. He’s tough. He’s hard. Like me. He knows how to stick it to the man. Like me. Plus he has a posse. So we’re exactly the same.”
“Am I in your posse?” Dwight said, nervously.
“No. It’s a top-secret classified underground railroad thing. It’s really intense. Besides, no whites allowed.”
Jim rolled his eyes.
“Have you found a way to get out yet, Dwight?”
“Well…I mean…” It was obvious Dwight wanted to stay. Right here. In the office. For the first time in his life, he was where he wanted to be. With Michael, with the people he secretly called his friends, the people he thought about all the time.
Angela swiftly turned on the radio, startling everyone in the office.
Initial static. Then, a metallic, computer voice: “Attention everyone in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Anyone who is alive. Go to 117 St. Bergen Street and wait inside the bakery on the corner. The authorities will arrive to take you to safety…Attention everyone in Scranton…” Angela turned it off.
“Initial reactions?” Michael said as he stood up.
“We should go to the Bakery.” Angela said sternly.
“It’s a trap.” Pam muttered. Even though it was almost inaudible, she managed to captivate the room.
“What? How could it be a trap?” Michael asked.
“Didn’t you hear the voice? It’s that voice program on most computers. You know, the one where you can type anything and it will say it?”
Jim was pleasantly surprised.
"I love that program. I use it for prank calls all the time. That or my Yak-Bak.” Michael said.
Dwight ignored him. “Good thinking, Pam. You’re probably right. Someone issued this outbreak. Someone is trying to lure us in. They want us to go to the bakery, eat their food, and then take us to their base, where they will eat us and all the pastry delights in our intestines.”
“…Exactly what I meant.” Pam said.
“We need to stop them.” Angela said. “We need to stop this. Otherwise, this disease will spread. Besides, if we stay here, it’s a deathtrap. We need to get out. Now.”
“The nearest hospital is a few miles away. They probably have a helicopter of some sort. Then we can get out of here. Any ideas on where we should go?” Dwight asked.
“Why don’t we go to your dojo?” Jim asked.
“Yeah, let’s go to my dojo and get EATEN. Good idea, Jim. Amateur.” Dwight mocked.
“We should just get out of Scranton now. That should be our focus. Then we can figure out where to go from there.” Angela said.
"Then that would be 'foci'." Dwight mentioned.
"What?"
"You said focus, but you mentioned two things. Therefore, you should've said 'foci' as opposed to 'focus'."
Angela, disgruntled, turned away, but secretly smiled.
“Let’s go.”
They gathered all of their supplies.
Dwight brought the guns.
Jim brought the food.
Michael brought Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The second installment of the story that made you laugh, cry, and wish there were actually zombies in Scranton, Pennsylvania.
and as always:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
and as always:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
