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. You can read part 1 and part 2 here. If you enjoy, check out the Zombie Apocalypse Call Center series which shares more zombie apocalypse fun.
He gets up as close as he possibly can without hitting me. If I have to abruptly brake he’s going to hit me. It’s a clear case of road rage.
I look in the rearview mirror, at the guy road raging on me. He’s a balding, pudgy white man with glasses on. He’s giving me the finger and glaring at me. Clearly he doesn’t like the fact that I held him up from entering the highway, but instead of just continuing on his way he’s decided to follow me. Big mistake.
If I didn’t need to get home and didn’t think I would need my car, I would just slam the brakes and let him hit me, and then let our insurance providers fight it out. But I don’t have time for this idiot right now. The zombie apocalypse is here and its survival of the fittest time. Time to see if he’s got the balls to back up his bluster.
I grab my .45 and wave it and look at him in the rear view mirror. He sees that gun and he blanches and immediately slows his car down. I slow mine down too and he looks really uncomfortable. He starts looking for a driveway or a road to make a turn on. I put the gun back in the seat and keep driving, but keep an eye on him in the rearview window. He finds a driveway and turns it into and then turns around. I chuckle to myself and then speed up so I can get back home as quickly as possible.
“You are caller number 1 in the queue. Please have your account number ready. The next available phone analyst will take your call,” promises the automated female voice of the Zombii Co. phone line.
“Finally!” I mutter to myself. I shouldn’t have to wait this long when I’m paying Platinum support.
For the next couple of minutes the hold music keeps playing and then I hear a click.
“Hello, this is Sam, with Zombii Co. May I ask who I’m speaking with please?”
He sounds young, early twenties, just a bit rattled and insecure, probably because he never expected the zombie apocalypse to happen. I’ve only used the call center a couple times, but each time I’ve talked to someone from Zombii Co., I can tell they’ve thought I was an idiot. Now who’s the idiot?
“Hi, Sam, this is Angela, account number 5008934011.”
I hear the punching of keyboard keys as he enters my account number.
“How can I help you today Angela?”
I scan the road. I need to take a turn soon.
“Sam, I’m on the road right now, trying to get home from work, and I’m worried because of all the zombie sightings. I was wondering if you had updated news about where the zombies are showing up. I’ve only got my .45 with me, so I wanted to be prepared.”
“I understand. Let me see what I can find out for you.”
Before I can reply he puts me on hold and I’m listening to that annoying hold music again.
