Utility Part V

 

Ironwood Elementary loomed before Franklin. The few zombies were history that much was certain, but he still needed a way to get inside. The answer came by way of his nose.

The stale tang of cigarette smoke wafted towards him. There was just enough scent being carried on the temperate desert breeze to flirt with his olfactory sense.

Franklin smiled, the tattered edges of his makeup curled along with his lips. He approached the open window carefully. Peering into the room he saw no one. Quietly, for he was certain there were reanimated corpses inside, he tossed in his satchel. When no shuffling or groans followed it, he hopped in quickly behind it.

Franklin mused; The dead don’t smoke, unless you douse them with gasoline. But everyone with half a brain knows, the only thing worse than a zombie is a flaming zombie.  

He saw the office again for the first time. He had spent what had seemed like days sitting on the other side of that principal’s desk but that had been over a half decade ago. The walls retained their drab blue, a color Franklin had always thought was chosen to make nervy students more emotional, further depressed so that the administration could increase the level of punishment accordingly.

And that’s all it was, Franklin thought, punishment. It never did a damn thing to impact his behavior.

After glancing around he toyed with the idea of leaving the window open, sure he might have to make a hasty getaway if in fact this place was crawling with hundreds of deceased school children. How many attended this school when he was here? 200, 400? But then again, the smoke…

Franklin lowered the window, without closing it. Compromise. He scooped up his satchel, and readied his ax.

He was about to try the door and enter the hallway when he had a thought. Turning his attention to the wall of awards, and other items that meant nothing in this current form of the world, he scanned for a name. Hmm, guess ole’ Aaron Ansell (or as the kids pronounced it in that sing-songy voice youreanasshole) up and retired.

Franklin opened the door, ready for a horde of 1st graders to begin nipping at his heels. Instead, he was confronted only by an empty hallway. Franklin too realized he must be hungry, as his nose now picked up the faint scent of cafeteria pizza. “Mmm cardboard crust and soy sausage.”  His eyes rolled, and seemingly to spite them, his stomach gurgled happily.

Franklin followed the scent. He had a hunch it was coming from the cafeteria, and after attending school in this place for five years, he well knew where that was, so he went.

Hearing the muffled but innumerable sound of several beings shambling aimlessly, Franklin paused in front of room 124. He shook his head in disgust and disappointment.

He let one hand trail against the wall, stepping swiftly, ax held aloft. Gradually, he heard several people talking as he neared the closest entry point to the lunch room. By the time he was within reach of the doors, the pair of them swung open violently and a man stormed out, carrying two sorry looking slices of pizza, and muttering angrily to himself.

Franklin couldn’t see his face, as luckily the man turned the direction opposite Franklin and walked away as if he had something long and pointy shoved up his backside.

He waited silently, listening to the rest of what was most certainly an argument about a lost (or possibly stolen) maintenance keys.

Food storage, Franklin hoped. And if it was lost he knew just how to find it.

Franklin swung open the cafeteria doors, like he was entering a Wild West saloon. “Hello everyone. I am the man that just exploded about a dozen zombies just outside your doors. But I come in peace.” The group in the café sat transfixed on him, quickly forgetting about keys and potential thievery altogether. Franklin chuckled, “Oh, and pay no mind to the makeup, it’s for funsies.”

 

Utility IV

 

 

“Where am I?”

The man stared at Bailey, an empty jug of water held in his hand. He spoke, but she was still groggy, whatever the response, to her, the words sounded like ‘prison’. She did notice his army surplus BDUs, and the fact that they didn’t show any signs of wear and tear. Similarly, a combat knife and sheath that had either been meticulously cleaned or never used, hung at his hip.

“How did I end up in prison? Where’s Andy?” she sat up, body stiffened, the questions were both sobering to say the least.

“No, Prism…the subdivision.” The man glared at her with eyes that couldn’t believe she wasn’t in the know. “I’m Clark. I’ve been assigned to you.”

“Assigned? Where’s my husband?” Bailey now recoiled and edged away, realizing she was in a small room inside a home. What looked like it had once been a guest room, or office, now held a plain cot as its only furniture. Stacked in the corner were a few essentials; three rolls of toilet paper, a small first aid kit, two cans of stewed tomatoes and a full gallon of water. Sure as hell looked like prison after all.

As he stood over her, Clark saw her eyeing the supplies, “The toilet paper is from my personal stash. You’re welcome.” He smiled the grin too toothy for its own good.

Bailey stood, balling her fists, “Take me to my husband you God damned weirdo!”

Clark raised his hands passively, “Hey no need to take the Lord’s name. That’s why I woke you anyway. We’re givin’ a tour to the newbs. Didn’t want you to miss out.”

Clark stepped back, moving away from the entry door. “Follow me.” He gestured behind him with a slender finger.

Bailey followed with tentative steps, had this man, this stranger tried to follow behind her, she would’ve refused. Having him in front seemed a whole lot safer.

She was led from the room and down a set of stairs that opened up into a great room and kitchen combination. There were boxes stacked up along the perimeter of the large room, some labeled in felt pen, Supplies: Bandages, MREs, others unmarked.

From there Clark opened the front door of a house like a thousand others in this part of the state. Sun hit her eyes mercilessly. When Clark was at the door’s threshold she sprang into action. As the man’s forefoot hit the front porch, Bailey shoved him forward, driving all her weight into the small of his back. This action sent Clark sprawling, face down into the many jagged edges of the landscaping rock, and only narrowly missing barrel cactus to his right, and a yucca to his left.

A sorry excuse for a moan escaped the man’s lips as the sound of teeth and flesh scraping against rock made the noise of sandpaper no longer resilient enough to stand up to a tough surface. Immediately, Bailey was on top of the man, grabbing frantically at his waist. After only two tries she had ripped the knife from its sheath, and held it at Clark’s neck.

“Baby, what the hell are you doing?”

Bailey blinked and looked up, immediately recognizing the voice of her husband Andy.

The man pinned beneath her whimpered and spat a rock a few feet ahead of him. “Honey?”

She got up and ran to him. The two embraced for a moment, and shared a kiss. “I am so glad to see you.” Bailey lamented.

“I thought I’d lost you!” Andy cried out. “Thank God.”

Bailey released her husband. As she looked around her she saw what was going on: Children were playing and laughing in a bouncy castle, adults were gathered around a makeshift bandstand where a fiddle player and a vocalist seemed to be warming up. A few others strolled by casually holding what appeared to be funnel cake. She saw alright, and she didn’t like it one bit. Hated every perversion of what these actions said about that which life had become. It wasn’t any of this. It wasn’t safety or fun, or good times. This was blasphemy.

She turned to Andy with urgency, “What am I doing? What are these people doing? And where are all the zombies?”

“Hey, hon’ they don’t like the z word here, sends people into a bit of a tizzy.” Andy, uncapped his hand after giving that informative tip. “We’re ok here babe. It’s secured. These folks have got it all on lock down. It’s a little slice of heaven. And we’re invited.”

“Not so fast. Seems your better half here has violated a cardinal rule. Namely beating the good out of Clark here...”

Bailey looked up, to see a middle aged man with soft blonde hair. His neck was framed by a tightly wound scarf that was enveloped at its sides by a suit coat worn over a crisp vest.  Pants that were cut too short gave way to bleached white socks under polished oxfords. He was helping up poor Clark before turning him over to a few men that had been following closely behind him.

The men helped Clark away discreetly. None of the frolicking crowd seemed to notice or care.

Bailey’s first thought wasn’t how well the man was dressed, but rather how he was surviving in the heat with all those layers.

The man smiled. “‘Do not envy a violent man or choose any of his ways’.” He walked towards Andy and Bailey, cleared his throat and stated, “I’m Jakob. Welcome to our ‘little slice of heaven’.”

Although not fully certain, Bailey could’ve sworn the Jakob sneered slightly at Andy as he recited the line.

“You haven’t even completed orientation and you’re already breaking the rules? Tsk, tsk, tsk little girlie.”

“Are you going to stand for this?” Her eyes were lowered not at Jakob, but Andy, who didn’t budge. “Okay that’s it. What the f-”

All around them oblivious people were participating in such acts like skipping rope, eating taffy, and drinking milkshakes. To Bailey they seemed like props in the background, more so than people.

Andy pulled Bailey back, “Whoa hang on here Jakob. It’s just big misunderstanding. Bailey’s not violent or anything. She probably just didn’t understand what Clark’s intentions were.”

Jakob smiled, smoothing back his mane. “That’s a fair assessment Andrew. I don’t want to jump to conclusions about anyone. Least of all your wife…”

Bailey noted Jakob’s eyes flicking her direction.

Bailey’s husband’s only comment, “It’s Andy, but thank you for understanding.”

Jakob carried on, “You all simply carry on with the tour. Bailey seems like a smart woman. I’m sure regarding the few minutes she’s missed she’ll pick it up lickety split.”

Again, Bailey noticed a slight descent of the eyes in her direction. She wanted to scream, Andy how can you not be seeing this!?

“Thank you Jakob.” Andy nodded, grabbing Bailey’s hand in his.

“Andy we need to talk.” Bailey was more than insistent.

“Shh, no more trouble. Will talk after the tour baby. We need to pay attention.”

The tour resumed.