Zombies Eat Lawyers (2 page)

By that point, the zombie bite had taken hold of Brock, leaving him laconic and wooden. Claire grew tired of waiting for him to jump her and decided to make her move. She dove in for a lip lock, but ended up biting off more than she could chew. Rather, Brock bit off a piece of Claire's lip, then went in for the kill.

The zombiefied duo spent the night trapped in the ladies room, pawing at the door, waiting for someone to set them free. Leann was the reluctant victim. Zombie Brock and Claire lunged for Patricia, Leann, and Elaine’s while the rest of the zombies closed in.

Zombie Claire's lunge toppled Leann. They both fell to the ground where Zombie Claire tried to eat Leann.

Never a fan of Claire's hussy ways, Elaine took particular delight in wrestling Claire off Leann before slamming her head repeatedly into the ground. A pool of blood started gushing out of Claire's head.

"I think she's dead Elaine," Leann uttered, catching her breath.

"She was dead before," Elaine insisted.

"Well she's really dead now," Leann added.

"Better safe than sorry--"

"Hey ladies, little help," Patricia yelled.

Leann and Elaine turned and saw Patricia narrowly holding Zombie Brock back from biting her.

Leann and Elaine ran full steam ahead and pushed Brock back into the ladies room. They then close the door shut behind him, trapping him.

"Time to freshen up, bastard," Patricia yelled.

"Sounds like someone has some repressed anger," Elaine cracked.

"Yeah, like I'm the first person to hate an ambulance chaser," Patricia replied. But Patricia had been harboring an unrequited crush on Brock, one that had served to break her heart upon just seeing him with Claire, undead or not. But the wounds of the past had nothing on the onslaught the present was baring down with.

With the scuffle side tracking the ladies from their dash to the break room, the zombies were practically breathing down their necks. The break room became a desert island away. The ladies held their breath, their paperwork filled lives flashing before their eyes, sure the end had come.

The zombies grunted and groaned, ready for their meal, convinced they'd found easy prey. But sometimes miracles did happen.

Steve emerged from the mail room with fire in his eyes. He hurtled the mail cart towards the staggering undead. Steve released it, letting it careen down the cubicle corridor like a bowling ball.

The mail cart left a 7-10 split, knocking over a mass of zombies, while missing a number of others completely.

"Oh thank God. I thought we were lunch," Elaine said.

"If you don't get in the break room, you still might be," Steve replied.

"Wait, but what about you?" Patricia asked.

"I'm going to law down the law," Steve replied.

Patricia, Elaine, and Leann ducked into the break room while Steve made a bee line for Tucker Trent's office. Tucker was a no show at the law firm, like every Thursday. The guy spent more time on the golf course than he did in court. Of course, Tucker treated trial as a suckers play long before he'd lowered his golf handicap to eight. See, Tucker never found a case he couldn't settle. Why waste precious golf time cross examining and interviewing witnesses when you could score a quick out of court settlement?

Matter of fact, Tucker was off at Lawyer-palooza, trying to recruit a new crop of clients to parlay into bulk settlements to finance his next golf vacation. Lawyer-palooza was the corporate stiffs idea of a recruiting fair. Rent out the conference hall at an uber ritzy hotel, set up a free buffet, then hawk your slick wares to new unsuspecting clients.

But the rancid ruse was fine by Steve, because it allowed him to dash into the office and grab Tucker's club from off his putting green.

Steve grabbed hold of Tucker's putter and squared up to the remaining lurking zombies.

"Fore."

********

While Steve played the hero to the cubicle crew, the lawyers cowered in their corner offices. But locking the minimum wagers out wouldn't stop terror from coming in. Pounding was heard on the offices glass windows. The undead had surrounded the building. The senior partners were boxed in, their posh offices turned into luxury coffins of their own making, and there was no one to save them.

The Big Business Lackey panicked as she looked out the window at the gore squad clamoring for brains with just a thin paine of glass between them. The Lackey lost her mind and bounded to the door, hoping to make her getaway. But when she opened the door, a cubicle zombie was waiting to eat her.

The Defense Attorney To The Stars took a different tact. He picked up his stapler to defend himself from the hordes pounding on the glass. But when the zombies broke through and poured into his office from the street, the stapler was little help. The Defense Attorney pleaded for his life, but ended up bleeding out on his hand carved mahogany desk.

Which left the shark in his office, rocking back and forth under his desk. It was one thing to be a hammerhead shark in the court room, but that didn't matter if you were toothless when it counted most. The shark became religious for the first time, just as his life was about to be cut short. He prayed, pleading for a miracle, but the shark had no soul left to save. The zombies crashed through the glass, leaving the shark turned from predator into prey. But while the senior partners of the Law Offices Of My Foot In Your Ass were turned into lunch, Steve cleaned up the cubicles like they were week old egg salad from the break room fridge. Steve wanted to believe he'd always been such a bad ass. But it was the adrenaline carrying him. There was only one thought in his mind. Being able to see Vanessa alive again. And no undead creature was going to come between that. Steve cracked the last skull with his putter, then tried to reach his fiancé on his cell.

*********

"Dammit, pick up," Steve yelled, as Vanessa didn't answer his calls.

The paralegals were glued to the break room tv. The news was grim. Zombies weren't just eating lawyers. They were eating every man, woman, and child. The Zombie plague was world wide, and there was no help on the way. The news anchor warned not to go outside, but Steve had his foot halfway out the door, desperate to see his lady love again. He kept dialing, pleading that Vanessa would finally pick up.

Capitol Hill

Vanessa Tilden's cell phone rang furiously, but she didn't answer. As a lowly Congressional aide, it was her job to actually read the eight hundred page bills the Senators voted on. And the latest paperweight of politics was a doozy. Never mind that Vanessa had been reading for hours, or that she couldn't see straight. The Senator wanted a detailed rundown of the proposed spending bill before he took off to Cabo.

It was days like that Vanessa wondered why she ever came to DC in the first place. She'd just gotten engaged, but had no time to celebrate her good fortune. She'd come to the Capitol full of idealism, but had choked down the all too gritty reality of how broken Washington really was. The Lobbyists, the back stabbing, the Sweetheart deals. It turned out Democrats and Republicans were just two sides of the same corrupt coin. There were no good guys, only darker shades of evil. Everyone could be bought for the right price. To succeed in Washington, you had to sell your soul, and Vanessa had a particular attachment to hers. But politics was a dirty game, and sometimes you got dragged into the mud.

That's why Vanessa was looking to get out while she was still squeaky clean. At page two hundred of the bill, she was ready to quit. By page four hundred, she started drafting her resignation. But little did she know she might not make it to page six hundred alive.

Bleary-eyed and nursing a ring tone induced migraine, Vanessa took a break from legislative dickery to check her voice mail and grab a chocolate pick me up. But terror lurked around the corner. As Vanessa exited the office, a zombie janitor lunged at her. Vanessa fell to the ground, with the janitor landing on top of her. She shrieked for help, but received none as the zombie tried to eat her face off.

Vanessa used all her might to push the janitor off her. She then high tailed it down the hallway, too petrified to properly process what just occurred. But while Vanessa fought for her life in the bowels of the building, it was just another do nothing day in Congress. The end of the legislators hectic four day work week. The Senators already had their feet halfway out the door before the partisan bickering and finger pointing began. But soon enough, the hand wringing and filibustering over pork barrel spending was a distant memory. There would be no more campaigning for re election six months into terms. No more mud slinging across party lines. And no more Congressmen in the pockets of special interests groups.

Capitol Hill was about to become ground zero for the undead revolution, with zombies turning the elected officials into brain dead corpses. Then again, Congress had the brain dead part spot on already.

It was politics as usual, but Senator Jones had another kind of stumping on his mind. He was craving K Street call girl and had eight thousand dollars of the taxpayers money at the ready. Jones had wanted a nice golden shower all week, but family value town hall meetings and a parent teacher conference had gotten in his way. But it was finally going to be his night. Jones' wife was away on a spiritual retreat, so once he put in a photo op at a Republican fundraiser, he was free to get kinky with his favorite escort Candy.

Brock Jamison's politics couldn't have been more different. His heart bled liberal. Matter of fact, Brock was so open minded that his brain had fallen out. But that didn't mean he wasn't above wheel barrowing a hooker so hard she couldn't walk straight in the morning. He just preferred to take his libido on the road. They were part of his official business. He was an environmentalist after all, so what better way to spread the message of stopping Global Climate change than on a private jet? Thank you, taxpayers.

Shannon Patterson was an institution on Capitol Hill. She'd been re elected so many times that she actually believed her own self fabricated hype, instead of realizing she just managed to suck less than the other nincompoops that ran against her every four years. But the people kept believing her salt of the Earth, woman of the people message. Never mind the fact that she lived in a gated mansion she'd bought padding her wallet with lobbyist money. The only question was which special interest to sell herself to that term. Did she want to be in the pocket of Big Oil or Wall Street? Hell, why not both?

Grady Lockwood was equally unfocused on the floor vote at hand. He was eagerly awaiting his guest spot on the Fair & Balanced News Network condemning gay marriage. But first, he had some naughty text messages to shoot off to the teenage male page he'd been stuffing like a Thanksgiving turkey. Grady had to be careful though, as his wife had been clogging up his in box with reminders of their Republican Ball later that evening.

But as much as the whiff of corruption and tawdry sex hung in the air, the stench of corpses quickly took hold of the chambers. Survivors of the zombie apocalypse would later look back and wonder how the undead had overtaken Capitol Hill security. But the breach had come from within. A night security guard had been bitten en route to work. He clocked in just in time to eat the graveyard janitorial staff as an early lunch break. From there, zombie fever took hold quicker than legislative incompetence.

The Senate floor became host to a blood bath. But even the end of the world couldn't bring the Republicans and Democrats to reach across the aisle. Instead of bi-partisan ass kicking, the Senators used each other as human shields. But, though there's no one better at mud slinging, politicians couldn't fight worth dick. The stiffs in suits made for easy prey. Even the chair of the Congressional Defense Committee put up little fight. But these were people that fought with rhetoric. Take the Senate Majority Leader. The old windbag had lost half his contingency, but he was too in love with the sound of his own voice to notice. A bite to the neck by his fiercest rival made for a wake up call a little too late.

Grady meanwhile was determined not to die with a hard on. He had a page to pork and made a furious dash for the exit. Grady ended up with male on male action of another variety. The Senator was jumped by a flesh eating Zombie Security Guard. As the Zombie's rippling biceps pinned the Senator down, Grady thought to himself how ironic it was to die with his flesh pressed up to a man-boobed meatloaf of a man while his true man love waited for carnal bliss in the men’s room.

While the cow of a security guard devoured Grady like an all you can eat buffet, Shannon made her play to escape. Sure the Senator was known as a ball buster in a blouse, but with her life on the line, she threw the salt of the Earth regular folks under the bus she built her career supposedly championing. But if tussling with Tea Partiers was like wrestling pit bulls before, the zombiefied versions were the scariest things Shannon had ever seen. In the end, the Undead Tea Partiers made a red state out of Shannon's blue blood, picking at her remains like vultures over fresh road kill.

Brock wasn't faring any better. The environmentalist was witnessing the largest bio hazard the world had ever seen, and would become Exhibit A if he wasn't careful. Brock tried to fight his way through the masses with the eight hundred page beast of a bill making its rounds in Congressional chambers. Who said bureaucracy didn't pay? The mound of leather bound legislative drivel was weighty enough to ward off at least one zombie, but proved too little too late to save Brock. The Senator's open mind became a zombie mob's bulls eye, and the undead were sure to hit the target.