Timothy 02: Tim2 (19 page)

“Hurry up or I’ll start without you,” Nick replied.

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful,” she said softly enough so that he wouldn’t hear. I, however, almost got caught as I let a small laugh slip. She must have chalked it up to nerves as I heard her go in and then the same sound of running water.

It took a lot longer than I would have thought someone could stand cold water before she came out.
A dirty soul can take a long time to scrub clean
, I mused.

“Did you open the whiskey?” I heard her ask as she walked away from me.

I was confident it was only the two of them as I stood. I kept low and close to the wall of cubicles on my right. One looking very much like the other at least until I came across the one with the name placard Scarlett Speight, Senior Mtg. Broker.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered as I touched the cool metal rectangle.

The lovebirds were making a nest in a conference room I saw as I peeked over a cubicle wall. They had removed the large table and replaced it with sleeping bags, coolers, and food. They had a small weapons cache but from the size of it, they must have been liberals. ‘If we don’t bother the zombies, they won’t bother us’ was probably their motto. It’s only free countries that suffer these fools. They only had a couple of battery-operated lanterns lighting the room, I was effectively hidden from their night-blind eyes.

Laurie was busy taking long pulls of the bitter amber fluid in anticipation of her joy ride. She was pretty enough in that twenty-five-ish sort of way. Basically she was young and had a pussy – two plusses in her favor. Nick had seen better days, he was on the far edge of his forties maybe even early fifties. He had a waistline-expanding belly pooch that alluded to diabetes, and the broken blood vessels in his nose led me to believe he enjoyed his hardcore liquid beverages. His cheeks were dotted with the pocks of acne gone seriously wrong…yeah, he was a looker.

‘Fuck if I had to peer at that face in the mirror every morning I’d be a drinker, too,’ I thought.

Laurie was wrapped in a beach towel and had a death clinch on the front of it. Nick was leering like he could see through to the gems hidden underneath.

“You ready?” he asked, exposing a body best left to the imaginations of horror writers. I’d seen walruses on television with less wrinkly skin. He had hair and moles everywhere, he looked like a hairy fucking toad. Dude was killing my appetite. Laurie shivered and I don’t think it had anything to do with the forty-degree shower she just took. I was right there with her.

“Let me warm up a little more,” she told him as she started taking in larger gulps.

“Don’t pass out on me like last time,” he said, laughing as he grabbed the bottle.

“Can we turn out the lights?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you want,” he told her as he pulled her towel open.

Dammit
, I thought as she turned both lanterns off. I had wanted to see if he could get his little Tic-tac dick past his voluminous belly and into its proper pussy pounding position. That would have been a neat trick. There was some general rutting and grunting sounds as I approached.

Laurie even tried to stimulate him into getting off quicker by talking dirty, but she had the tone and inflection of an answering machine as she said the words. “Oh yeah, baby, come for me. Does that feel good?”  I could picture the office fax speaking, it was so monotonic. He was eating it up, so I guess that’s all that mattered.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah,” he was moaning over and over. I could hear the squeal of Styrofoam as Laurie’s head must have been being driven into the cooler. It didn’t stop needle-dick Nick, though; he just kept humping along. Sounded like the little fucking engine that could.

I had seriously thought about letting him
get off, I really did, figured let him go out with a bang. Then I thought better of it. I approached, a trusty weapon attained from my initial cubicle securely in my hands. They were outlined fairly well in the pitch darkness as I approached. I could see them…they couldn’t see me.

“Do you smell that?” Laurie asked in alarm as I lined up my shot.

Nick was furiously pounding away, I could see pools of sweat stuck in the dimples of his ass and lower back.

“Fore!” I shouted.

“What the fuck?” Nick asked turning his head.

I swung my golf driver for the fences. I caught him square in the back of the head. The shaft snapped, but not before the head of the driver was lodged half way into his brain bucket. He was convulsing like he was having an earth-shattering orgasm. Laurie was screaming incoherently. I couldn’t really tell; I was laughing insanely. I could see her arms attempting to seek purchase on his sweaty bulk, trying to push him off of her so she could scurry away.

“Fucking hole in one!” I shouted. “Or is this one in the hole?” I asked as I pulled what was left of the club back and out of his head. “Should probably put a Band-Aid on that,” I told him, tossing the club. Laurie finally pushed him over enough and had escaped; she was hiding in the corner of the room not suspecting that I could see her fairly clearly. She was shaking almost as bad as Nick had been in his death throes.

“Where you at, honey?” I asked, turning my head so she would think I was walking away. “I won’t hurt you,” I told her.

She wisely didn’t answer; she wasn’t blonde.

“Your husband sent me,” I said, trying to bait her.

I saw her head whip up, eyes wide, maybe surprise…maybe shock.

“He would have come himself but he’s been banging your neighbor, Mindy-something, I think he said. So you got me instead.”

Laurie started to crawl towards the open doorway. I just watched. I felt very much like a cat playing with a mouse. I would let her get so far before I allowed her to get away. She was almost to the opening, and to her credit, she was damn near silent.

She froze as I spoke. “You know I can see you right?” I spoke directly to her. “Grab a light and come over to the table,” I told her. She looked over quickly, but didn’t move in my direction. “I can see you perfectly, you’re about a foot from the doorway, you have a small butterfly tattoo on your inner thigh and you shaved a landing strip with your pubes. Did Nick like that, or was it your husband?”

She sobbed. “Nick,” she said breathlessly.

“So do as I told you or I’m going to twist your tits until one of them pops off.”

She got down on her knees fumbling for the lantern. When she found it, she turned it on. She gasped in abject horror when she saw me. I smiled.

“Sit, sit,” I said, pointing to the chair across from me. Her legs were shaking so hard she was in potential harm of shattering her kneecaps.

“Bet Nick looks like George Clooney right about now,” I said as I leered at her. She sat down, swiveling the chair as far as possible without making it appear overtly rude, she had one hand over her breasts and one over the promised land.

“Move your hands…now!” I said, with force when she didn’t acquiesce immediately. “You’re not really hot enough by my standards, but I’d do you in a pinch.”

She alternated between anger at my slight and horror at my insinuation.

“Relax, sex doesn’t hold the same importance it did for me once upon a time. I think with some work I could get this body’s junk into a usable fashion, but I’m failing to see the point.”

“What...what do you want with me?” she asked, again trying to cover herself up before I motioned with my hands for her to keep her arms by her side.

“I’d really like to say something evil like ‘your soul’ and then have this death metal music play as a soundtrack, but in reality, it’s a much baser need. Even more base than sex.”

I think Laurie would have darted away if she could have trusted her legs to support her body.

“Why? What are you?” she asked, tears falling from her eyes. “Do you know my husband?”

“Typical fucking chick, you ask rapid fire questions before I can even respond to the first one, you’re on to the next. We’ll start with the husband part, no I don’t know the poor bastard…and honestly, I hope he’s dead, because if he realizes you were fucking that fat fish over there, he’d cut his own wrists. As for what I am? I’m not entirely sure, I’m part zombie and I’m part Timothy. We’ve got this coexisting thing going on that seems to be souring, but that’s neither here nor there, nothing for you to worry your somewhat pretty head about.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

I raised an eyebrow. “Nice, by the trembling in your hands I had figured there wasn’t much scrap left in you.” She thrust her chin out at me. “Then the most fun answer of them all, why? I guess you want to know why I’m doing this. Because I’m starving,” I told her as I grabbed her thigh and quickly dragged her office chair over towards me.

The wheels making her slide effortlessly towards me. She screamed as I sank my teeth down into her breast. “Well at least they’re real,” I said, coming up with a mouthful of the fatty tissue. She was shrieking. Her hands flew up to her damaged breast and she stood in panic trying to get away. I reached around and grabbed her by the ass, pulling her tight. I bit deeply into her soft, office-induced muffin-top belly.

I held her tight as she beat around my head and shoulders. “You really should have eaten more granola or something,” I told her as I swallowed my latest bite. The blows from above became less forceful as I continued to meander my way through her midsection.

“You were superb,” I said as I pushed what was left of her away. She tumbled to the floor.

“Man, eating sure does build up an appetite. Your turn, fat boy,” I said as I got onto the ground with Nick’s rapidly cooling remains.

He tasted as bad as he looked. I had no clue how fibrous moles and warts were, it was a lot like chewing through raw stew meat. The sun was making its daily journey when I finally poked my head up to take a look.

I sat with my back against the conference room wall, my hands placed contentedly over my belly. It was high noon by the time the pleasure of the eat was starting to wear off and I remembered why I had come here in the first place.

“Yorley!” I said a little loudly, getting up quickly.

She could have stomped in here playing the trombone and I might have missed her and her buddy. Then it dawned on me, she wasn’t coming back here. Why would she? Her family wasn’t here. Shit, nobody wants to be at work, especially when the world ends, right?
Not quite a dead end though
, I thought as I headed to her cubicle. Post-It Notes were plastered all over her computer monitor, company knick-knacks dominated her desk space, and her fake walls were covered with calendars and ‘helpful’ tips.

I shuddered at the nightmare that was corporate America. And they say I’m the scary one; I don’t make people sit in conference rooms listening to me rant about how ‘we need to diversify our synergy so that our paradigm shift will be in line with...’ I’m sure you know the drill.

I pulled open the top drawer to her desk. She was so fucking OCD that her pushpins were in order by color. “You were a busy little bee weren’t you?” I hastily shut the drawer, screwing up her pencil filing system. There wasn’t anything in there except office supplies. The larger drawer on the bottom looked promising as I pulled it open. There were numerous folders hanging there, all of them labeled. Five minutes later and I was no closer to the information I wanted. The files were all customers, and by the looks of them, the problem children.

There had to be a million people I could eat within the next few days, but I was fixated on these two. What is it about zombie nature that makes me want the one that got away? I sat down heavily in her chair, twirling around lazily. Inspiration came in the form of a Post-It Note I had looked over at least a dozen times: ‘Sexual Harassment training, Monday 10 am.’

“That’s it!” I yelled, standing up quickly sending the chair crashing into her desk. “Now where did they stick HR?”

It took two go-arounds of the entire floor before I found the office. I had thought it was a supply closet by how far removed it was from the rest of the work environment. I tried the handle and of course the door was locked.

“Privacy until the end.”

I leveraged back and hit the door as hard as I could with the sole of my foot and the damn thing hardly shivered. My leg would crack and my welded ankle would shatter long before that door gave way. Plus there was a serious dosing of pain that went along with the attempt.

“This is really pissing me off,” I said, staring at it like it gave a shit.

“Tim, I really think you’re letting all this meat go to your head,” I said aloud. I really hope I wasn’t going down that road of psychosis, the one where I started to refer to myself in the third person. “I’ll be fine.”

I went back to the original cubicle I had been hiding in when I discovered Naughty Nick and Lascivious Laurie – not really fitting for her but I like alliterations. I had my two weapons and was pretty sure the door lock wouldn’t stand up too well to a 9 mm round. I placed the muzzle of the weapon right up against the lock, in retrospect or hindsight or after-fucking-thought…it was a bad idea. The round came out as expected, slammed hard into the handle and then took a hard turn downwards and into my shin.

My head slammed into the wall as the mushroomed round rebounded into me. I could write how many times I said ‘Fuck’ but what’s the point? I was now on the ground rocking back and forth holding my leg up against my chest. I could feel Hugh; the little bastard was standing in the background kind of shaking his head, like ‘what has the little scamp gotten into this time?’