Flesh-Eaters Anonymous - pt 6
They say the ones who can't control it don't last long." I glanced at it and dropped it into my pocket, forgetting about it in the next second.
I would—might do it. It wasn't the dying part. Suicide had risen higher and higher on my to-do list with each passing day. I believed it would be painless. I believed that one way or the other it was how the whole world was going to go, despite the "rosy" picture Jack had painted. But the thought of injecting myself with a needle!
I just didn't know if I could do it. Even holding the case and looking at it made my stomach swim.
I closed it and stood. Jack looked confused a moment and remained seated.
"I'm embarrassed," he said. "I can't see you to the door. Rigor mortis."
I quickly left his office, hearing Jack slide that drawer open again just before. Cindy, the pretty secretary who wasn't so pretty anymore smiled at me with her eyes because her lips had been torn off. She turned away and went back to smacking the endless amount of flies circling her head.
A giant, bald-headed bougie stood in the doorway with a proper cloud of flies buzzing around him. He was holding a sheet of paper with "I am Ollins" written in blue ink printed on it.
"Hi. I'm John," I said, extending my hand. He put his paw around it, dry and cold, but gentle, giving my arm a single pump and letting go. I could see he wasn't talking because his throat had been crushed.
Ollins stood aside and let me pass, but followed me to the elevator. Great. I got it. I take the shot and everything's hunky-dory; I try to escape I get pulled inside out by my new shadow.
The lobby was even more crowded than this morning. I had to take care to stay away from a cluster of prols chained together by the neck by one of the potted plants. Bunny Orlean was behind the security desk, playing with her false eyeball. I sighed. She'd hated me when she was alive.
"I'm gonna reach into that belly, freshie," she yelled at me, popping her prosthetic back in. A lot of the bougies wore their kill items like jewelry. Orlean pulled the knife out of her chest and came around the desk. "C'mon," she said, standing in front of the doors and waving me closer.
I stopped. Ollins breezed past me and Orlean looked up at him like she'd just seen him. He was in front of me, completely blocking her from my view.
"The hell do you want—my beef's with him."
She tried to sidestep Ollins but he corralled her to the side so I could pass.
"Hey, pal, get your hands offa—" she whipped the knife at Ollins, cutting his arm. His huge fist sprang out, bashing into her temple. Orlean bounced off a wall and save for the flies, lay still.
It was an almost uneventful walk home. The bougies really were rounding up the prols. They were even clearing the streets of debris; burned out cars, chunks of buildings and other things. They didn't have uniforms yet, but a bougie—I'm sorry—a hoi wore a makeshift kerchief wrapped around his or her shoulder to distinguish themselves from the prols. I began to think the whole undead thing might not be so bad.
