“This reminds me of that time back in ‘nam.”
“You weren’t in ‘nam.”
“Shut up, Dwight. Of course I was.”
“No you weren’t, Michael.”
“You weren’t there either, so how would you know if I was actually there?”
“You just said you weren’t there. So: conclusion. You weren’t there.”
Michael and Dwight. As much as she liked listening to them argue, she couldn’t really think about anything else. His eyes.
His eyes right before Jim shot him. It had to be done, but there was something in his eyes, something still human.
Roy.
Jim stood beside her on the roof top. He hated this time of day. Noon. When the sun was directly above them, hovering. It was hard to see without squinting now, but he tried to attempt to look at the horizon, the downtown metropolis of Scranton still almost invisible among dust and fire.
“Okay, way to be Clint Eastwood.” Pam muttered. She stared at the ground, avoiding the sun. And his eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
“That look on your face.”
“Well there ain’t enough room in this town for the both of us.” He smiled. “Partner.”
Pam smirked, thinking about Roy. There wasn’t enough room for the both of them. Dwight and Michael still argued in the distance.
“I was so a call-on-al.”
“If you were a real call-on-al, you would’ve had troops. You would have badges and medallions and a helmet. And you would have scars. And a purple heart. But your heart is red, Michael, I can tell. You're a liar.”
“It’s colonel.” Angela said. She had been ignored since the zombies attacked. She sat on the ledge of the building, looking down at the legions of zombies walking slowly around the surrounding streets.
Suddenly, she kicked off her shoe. A gray tennis shoe, slowly flying to the ground. The laces whipped around the leather. She watched it tumble to the ground.
It wouldn’t be too bad, would it?
She could just fall right now…and everything would be just fine…
“Angela!” Dwight yelled.
But it had been too late.
“Angela?” Pam muttered. Pam and Jim rushed to the edge.
She was gone.
-
After tense moments, they decided maybe it would be best to get out of the office.
Before leaving, Jim looked on his desk. Pictures of family and friends glistened with that fake Kodak sheen. He grabbed the one of Pam.
“Okay, I’m not sure if everyone will be able to fit in my Sebring convertible –“
“What are you talking about Michael; we are going to go down to the warehouse to get a van.” Dwight defended.
“Um, okay, next time you want to sacrifice reputation for –“
“Our lives?” Jim asked.
“Yeah.” Dwight said. “We’re going to go to the warehouse.”
They climbed the stairs to the ground floor. The warehouse. Jim slid his hand down the guiding poles of the staircase, and Pam did the same.
Dwight opened the door. It was completely dark.
Fluorescent lights soon blinded them, making the metal shine oddly and the sharp, gray angles of the room seem unhealthy.
“You guys need to go to the tanning salon. I go twice a week. Changed my life.” Michael commented.
They slowly walked down the stairs, Dwight first, followed by Jim and Pam, then Michael.
“I wonder if Darryl’s here. I have this amazing joke-” Michael murmured.
Instantly, hands grasped Michael’s neck, pulling him in close. Everyone turned, and Dwight quickly shot Darryl’s head.
“You know, that’s the second time that’s happened. Oppression in the work place. First Stanley, now Darryl. Is there some sort of new civil rights thing I didn’t hear about?”
No one answered.
After a thorough inspection of the entire warehouse, Dwight spoke:
“Okay. Announcement. See that truck over there? We’re going to take this to…the Bakery.”
“But that’s a trap.” Pam said.
“Yes, I know it’s a TRAP, Pamela…But we need to stop this outbreak before it gets any worse. And if the people who started this want us to go there, then we will.”
“Plus, Angela might be there, right, Dwight?” Michael nudged him with his shoulder. "On 'til the break of dawnnn."
Dwight stared at him for a moment, then turned to Jim and Pam.
“Here’s the plan. I think we should drive that equipment truck to the bakery and just wait outside. They’ll find us. I’ll drive.”
“Shotgun!” Michael yelled.
Jim shook his head.
Michael ran over to the truck and started pulling on the handle. “Unlock ittttt…”
Dwight rushed while Pam and Jim walked over to the truck.
“Oh no.” Dwight looked down and sighed. “These aren’t the right keys.”
“You’re such an idiot!” Michael exclaimed. “Do you even know what keys look like?”
“Then what are they the keys for?” Jim asked.
A single piece of tape on the end of the keychain said “R.V.”.
“It looks like we’ll be taking the R.V.”
“Who owns an R.V.?” Michael asked.
It was silent for a moment. Pam raised her hand.
“It’s mine.”
“What?” Jim said, startled.
“Roy and I lived in it. We didn’t want a house just yet…because…”
“Okay then, let’s go.” Michael said.
Jim stared at Pam, even after she had begun to walk away. He didn’t understand how she could of tolerated that, could have tolerated Roy.
They rushed to the parking lot and quickly opened the door.
“Shotgun! Doubly shotgun! Shotgun upgrade!” Michael yelled again.
They each got in their seats, Pam and Jim in a couch near the back while Dwight drove and Michael looked at road maps in the passenger seat.
“We’re just 5 minutes away.” Pam observed.
“Nah-nah we’re just 5 minutes away. My name is Pam and I...have curly hair.” Michael mocked.
They drove a few blocks down until they arrived at the bakery. There weren’t any zombies around anymore. The sun was near horizon now, leaving empty streets and gray fog. The zombies seemed to have disappeared.
“What do we do now?” Michael asked.
“We wait. Stakeout.” Dwight said. "I'm so good at this."
They stared out the windows at the small corner pastry shop. A family owned business with a faded sign and dirty windows.
“...I think I’m going to take a nap.” Pam said.
Jim watched her turn and walk toward the back room and casually shut the folding door.
Jim turned to Dwight and Michael, still silent.
“What happens next?”
“Ideally, this: I go in, find Angela, save the day, and we have a hot steamy…” He paused. “Board game party."
“...You miss her, don’t you?” Michael turned.
“…Yes.”
It was silent.
Jim spoke. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”
He opened the folding door to the bathroom and instead, continued to the bedroom.
She was lying there, looking out the back windows.
The folding door closed.
“Jim?” She whispered.
He slid onto the bed, softly, surely. She turned to him. Tears ran down her face. Rivers and waterfalls. Her face glistened and in that moment, he wanted everything to be okay.
"I..I..."
He took his thumb to her face and gently wiped away the one cascading tear.
“You’re beautiful.”
A shudder, she shook underneath him. With his thumb still radiating on her cheek, his lips parted and they collided. Her hands wrapped around his head. They tumbled and she felt everything. Everything he had wanted to show her. Everything he had tried to show others when she had gotten in his way. Everything he loved. Everything he always wanted.
Slow-motion hands memorized her body, undressed her, coursed through her hair.
He took her with him that time. No one would leave her behind again.
“They’re coming!” Dwight yelled as he kicked open the folding door to the bedroom.
“Um…Okay, not what I meant."
Author's Chapter Notes:
The third installment of the zombie epic. The fivefecta leaves the office and ... other things happen.
