Author’s note: This is a short story excerpt set in the Zombie Apocalypse Call Center Universe. Each week I’ll write another part of the story on here. If you enjoy, check out the Zombie Apocalypse Call Center series and my free story, The Zombie Apocalypse Convenience Store
I’m at work when the zombie apocalypse happens, but as soon as I’m notified there are zombies attacking people, I do what any good prepper would do and leave work. That last minute deadline that needs to be completed somehow just doesn’t matter as much as making sure I survive the zombie apocalypse.
“Angela, where are you going?” My boss huffs as I walk by his office door.
“I’m heading out on lunch, Brad” I lie.
Brad looks at his watch and says, “You’re not due for lunch for another hour yet, and I need that project I have you working on done. Get back to your desk.”
I click my mouth and say, “No can do, Brad.”
“What did you just say to me?” Brad sputters in astonishment.
I give him a cocky look and say, “No can do. Do you need me to tell you that again?”
“You can’t to talk to me like that. You need to get back to your desk, now!”
I flippantly wave at him and keep walking toward the door.
Brad comes thundering out of his office.
“Get back here or you’re fired!” he yells.
“Not happening, Brad. I’m heading home to survive the zombie apocalypse. If you need the report that bad, get it done yourself. Oh and good luck surviving the zombie apocalypse!” I gaily reply and then skip out the door, leaving him behind, all flabbergasted.
I give him half a day tops for surviving during the zombie apocalypse. Me, on the other hand, I’ve been preparing for the zombie apocalypse for years now. Some people called me crazy, but who’s laughing now. Well soon, anyway, once I’m in my secure bunker. I figure I’ll outwait the initial zombie apocalypse and then start my life in the new dystopia, killing the zombies while scavenging for whatever I can find, and fighting or fucking the other occasional survivors I come across.
I’ve already 5 years worth of canned food in my pantry and I’m on Zombii Co’s Platinum plan, which means my bunker is loaded for bear with ammo. And I’ve also taken some martial arts classes. I’ve been ready for this for a while. And it’s finally happening.
I got notified on my Zombii Co. phone app. I heard a buzz on my phone, while working on that dumb report. I pulled it out and I’ll admit, I did a double take. It was finally happening. The event that I had been waiting for was finally happening. The zombie apocalypse was on. The app showed me incident reports of zombies in multiple places and at that point I grabbed my stuff and decided to ditch the job. Money isn’t going to matter in a couple days anyway.
I get to my car and unlock it and throw everything in. I get inside and pull open the glove compartment. I’ve got .45 in there and that’s it.
“Fuck,” I swear.
A .45 is okay, but I should have had the car better prepared for the zombie apocalypse. I’ve got a forty five minute drive home at this time of day, unless I’m really lucky and the roads aren’t too clogged up with other commuters. Then it’s only twenty five minutes. It’s two in the afternoon, I might just catch the edge of the afternoon rush.
I start my car up and pull out of the parking space and drive out of there like a bat out of a hell. Every moment counts when you’re trying to beat the apocalypse home.
