Razzed by Carl Alves

This is my short story "Razzed", which initally appeared in Tabloid Purposes IV anthology.

Razzed
By Carl Alves

Sebastian Fulton smiled as he read the analyst report. The analyst gave Razzed a strong buy rating and spoke glowingly about the company’s long term earnings outlook. Just a year ago, this same analyst had written disparaging remarks about Sebastian’s abrasive management style.
Mark Evans, his closest advisor, came running into his office without knocking. “We got a problem,” Mark said.
Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Follow me and I’ll explain on the way.”
They exited the corporate headquarters and entered a limo. Mark opened the mini-fridge. “Do you want a drink? I know I need one.”
Sebastian nodded and accepted the Scotch on the rocks Mark poured for him. “One of our manager’s at the Detroit plant has become zombie chow.”
Sebastian sunk his head back into the plush seat. “You have got to be kidding me.” He put his fist to his face. “How? How did it happen?”
“I don’t know the details yet. Kaunde just called and told me that it happened.”
“Damn it!” Sebastian shouted. “He’s supposed to control these things. That’s why he’s here, to control his workers.”
Mark dialed his cell, and hung up moments later. “No answer. We’ll be there soon.”
When they arrived at the plant, located in one of Detroit’s worst slums, everything looked normal. Abandoned warehouses surrounded the plant, some of which had been converted into crack houses. There was little activity in this slum, perfect for Razzed’s operations.
They walked to Kaunde’s office. There was no desk, computer, or anything typically found in an office. Instead, the room was adorned with decorations from his native Tanzania.
“Where the hell is Kaunde?” Sebastian snapped.
Mark turned around. “Right behind us.”
Vuyani Kaunde was a short, elderly man dressed in traditional Tanzanian garb, hardly the norm in a corporate setting.
“What the hell happened, Kaunde?” Sebastian asked.
Kaunde closed the door. “One of your foolish managers thought it a good idea to fix one of the machines that spin the fabric.”
“Of course he would,” Mark said. “When the machines jam, the process stalls. If they don’t get it back up and running, we lose a lot of money. We can’t afford long delays.”
Kaunde’s dark eyes fixed in on Mark. “The man did not tell me he was fixing the machine. When I arrived, one of my workers had already eaten him. There was nothing I could do.”
Sebastian rubbed his eyes. “Who else knows?”
“Nobody. I sealed off the area. My workers are now…sleeping.”
Sebastian paced around the office with his arms folded. “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Mark, get Fitzgerald and Leland to, um, take care of the body. Nobody else is to find out what happened. If anyone asks, he was given an extended leave of absence, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. This can’t happen again, Kaunde.”
Kaunde’s eyes narrowed. “Your managers know the rules. They are not to be near my workers if I am not present. Enforce that upon them.”
Sebastian sighed. “Fine. We’ll do that.”
Mark finished speaking on his cell phone. “Fitzgerald and Leland are on their way. They’ll discretely dispose of the body.”
“Good.”
Mark followed Sebastian out of Kaunde’s office to the limo waiting outside.
“You knew something like this was going to happen eventually,” Mark said.
“I know.” Sebastian took out a packet of Tums and popped two in his mouth. “We can’t let this blow up. Business is too good.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll fix this problem.”
Sebastian leaned back and closed his eyes, remembering how this all started.

Sebastian Fulton read the New York Times article for the second time. The first time he read it, he was disappointed. Now he was indignant.
He called Mark Evans, his personal assistant and one of the most unlikely corporate executives, into his office. In his late thirties, Mark had a nose ring, a tongue ring and several eyebrow rings. He had a massive tattoo that covered his entire back depicting an elaborate battle scene. He had spent twelve years of his life traveling the world and had lived in every continent. Sebastian had found him surfing on a beach in Southern California. He had sought out Mark because the kids at the beach considered him a local guru. Mark quickly climbed up the ranks of the corporation and became his right hand man because he was better at spotting new trends than anybody he had ever met. Sebastian wouldn’t trade him for any executive on Wall Street.
Sebastian slammed his fist on top of the newspaper that covered his mahogany table. The first few pages tore from impact. “Can you believe this shit? I built this damn company from nothing into a multi billion dollar corporation using my own sweat. And now these media people who never built a damn thing in their life are taking shots at me.”
Mark nodded. “That’s what happens when you’re successful.”
“When I started this whole thing, I didn’t have two nickels to rub together.” Sebastian had started selling knock-off tee shirts, concert shirts, replica jerseys, whatever was hot, out of his dorm room in college. He got so busy that he stopped going to class and eventually dropped out.
Mark nodded, but said nothing.
By staying on top of the latest trends, he had made his first million at age twenty-five. Razzed was one of the first companies to sell merchandise on the Web. Ten years after selling shirts out of his dorm room, he went from being a millionaire to a billionaire after Razzed’s IPO.
Mark picked up the torn copy of the New York Times. “In order to maintain the kind of growth Wall Street’s looking for, we have to lower operating costs by hiring cheaper labor.”
That’s why they manufactured in China and Vietnam. Sebastian folded his arms and looked outside of his high rise, office building. When the protests first started, it was just dopey college kids with picket signs. Then sit-ins popped up in universities across the country. Now human rights activists, labor unions and university officials had joined the protests that their workers were paid below poverty wages, and had unsafe working conditions.
Sebastian pounded his fist into his hand. “It’s a bunch of shit, as far as I’m concerned. In Vietnam, the minimum wage is twenty five dollars per month. We pay the Vietnamese workers almost double that. They ain’t complaining.”
“Of course not. It certainly beats making nothing. Plus we give managerial opportunities for the locals.”
Sebastian shouted, “I couldn’t care less about the workers’ conditions. I’d use slave labor if possible. But these damn protesters…”
Sebastian took out a bottle of Scotch from the bottom drawer of his desk and poured himself a drink. He then smashed his fist against the table. “What can we do about this?”
“Little other than pull our manufacturing operations out of the third world countries we’re operating in. We could propose changes in our facilities to appease the human rights people. But the labor unions are out for blood. They won’t stop until we pull out of those countries.”
“What would that do to our earnings?” Sebastian asked.
“Right now we have the best margins in the industry. Pulling out of Beijing and Viet Nam to manufacture in the States would give us razor thin margins. It would decimate our profits.”
“Son of a bitch.” Sebastian finished his Scotch. “We’re screwed either way.”
They went over different options. In every scenario, Razzed’s profits would suffer. That was unacceptable. Sebastian’s entire fortune was staked in the company. He was the majority owner of the corporation and had few other assets. He would live or die with his firm.
Mark sighed. “We might have one alternative. But it will take a giant leap of faith. Are you prepared to take it?”
“Look Mark, I have no faith other than in this company. Razzed is what I live for. And I trust you more than anyone. So if you have something, then give it to me.”
“Okay…” He took out a photograph.
It was of an old shaman. Sebastian blinked quickly. Behind him were what looked like…dead people, or more like living dead people.
Mark told him about how he had met Vuyani Kaunde in Tanzania while on a safari trip. Kaunde had an enormous estate that housed a small army of the undead under his control.
Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “That might be the craziest story I ever heard. Do you expect me to believe it?”
“No, I don’t,” replied Mark. “I wouldn’t if I were you. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes.”
“So you’re telling me that the walking dead are real?”
“They’re as real as real can get.”
“Maybe you were hallucinating,” Sebastian said. “Were you on the hashish?”
“I was completely sober. The only way you’ll believe me is if you see for yourself.”
“So what does this have to do with the activists? Do you want to unleash these undead creatures on them and have them eat their brains?”
Mark smiled. “You want cheap labor. You can’t get cheaper than them. They work for free. If we can convince Kaunde to give us a few hundred of these workers and bring them to the States, the activists won’t be able to complain about third world sweat shops and we’d have even higher profit margins. We have to figure out how to feed them. After all, they eat people.”
Sebastian’s mind raced as he paced around the room. He smiled. “Look, I can’t believe your crazy story. But if it is true, then this could reduce the hell out of our labor costs.”
“There’s only one way to prove it. Come to Tanzania with me and I’ll show you so that you too will believe.”

It took Mark two weeks after his arrival in Tanzania before he found Kaunde, who had moved his operations to the northern part of the country near Arusha. Sebastian grew impatient in Mark’s struggles to find Vuyani Kaunde, but was thrilled when they were finally given an audience with the shaman.
Kaunde, now much older and frailer than he looked in the picture, remembered Mark from his visit many years back. Mark’s Swahili was rusty. Fortunately, Kaunde had a working knowledge of English. Mark and Kaunde exchanged stories about his previous visit to Tanzania. Kaunde then invited them for a feast at his house that evening.
That night, they sat at a large banquet table with a bountiful arrangement of food.
During dinner Mark said, “We have come here to see if we can persuade you into a business arrangement. We would like to bring over your fleet of undead to America to work in our clothing factories. We would make it worth your while.”
Kaunde sat silently for a while. Sebastian thought the old man had gone to sleep. “If such an arrangement were made, I would have to join them in America.”
“Of course,” Mark said. “We would provide any accommodations you require and cover any expenses you incur.”
Kaunde turned toward Sebastian. “You do not believe what he says, do you?”
“Well, you must understand that the entire concept is bizarre. I mean, you’re trying to tell me that you can bring back dead people and then get them to work for you.”
Kaunde sighed. “I see that you require a demonstration.” He called for one of his servants.
Sebastian jumped out of his seat. The servant stood tall and erect, dressed in a black suit that fit awkwardly. It had flaps of skin hanging off of its face. Its ulna bone stuck out of its right forearm. Most of its teeth were missing, and it had a major gash on its forehead.
Sebastian cowered behind the table.
“They will not harm you.” Kaunde had a mischievous grin on his face. “I control them.”
Sebastian’s hands shook. “How…how did you create these monsters?”
“I can’t tell you, a disbeliever,” Kaunde said.
Sebastian shook his head. “I believe. I believe now. That’s amazing.”
Servants brought out trays of food and cleaned the table when they were done.
“What you have done here is truly remarkable,” Sebastian said. “My firm would love to have your workers. We would be willing to pay you well for your services.”
“Mr. Fulton, I am an old man. I do not need material wealth. I have lived a full and satisfying life, and I do not have any living offspring.”
“Perhaps there is another way that we can make it worth your while,” Mark said. “We can solidify your legacy so that generations to follow will know of your greatness.”
“I do not care for monuments or any such displays,” Kaunde said. “I care about my people. This is a poor country. The roads are in need of repair, the hospitals are inadequate and the schools are substandard. If I accept your offer, then you must enrich my people.”
Sebastian beamed. “No problem, Mr. Kaunde. Razzed is involved in numerous civic and community projects. We would be glad to help your people.”

Over the next two months, the firm’s fleet of private jets brought the undead into Canada. They were then brought by the truckload to Razzed’s new manufacturing facility in Detroit, which had been renovated from a clothing manufacturer that went bankrupt.
“You know, I can’t believe Kaunde didn’t hold us up for more,” Sebastian said a week before opening the Detroit plant. “I was prepared to up the ante a hell of a lot more.”
“Kaunde is a good man,” Mark said. “You should see the regard his people have for him. He genuinely wants to help them. He’s a better person than either of us. We just want profit.”
“It’s more than just profits. I built this company from an idea. My initiative and hard work turned that into a multi-billion dollar corporation. And I’m not about to let these liberal pansies stop me. They wanted us to pull out of these third world countries and we did. Now what’s going to happen to the people who we employed? We gave them a paycheck. We put food on their table and now they have nothing. These protesters can go to hell.”
“Whatever makes you sleep better at night,” Mark said. “Since I’ve been working at Razzed, I’ve gotten the taste of the good life. And it sure beats being poor.”
“Amen to that. So when will the Detroit plant be operational?
“Two weeks. We’re going to run with a minimal amount of human personnel. Kaunde controls the workers. He’ll work with the managers working at the plant. I’ve made sure they’re all stable and reliable. They’re being paid real well as long as they comply with complete secrecy. Nobody else finds out what goes on in the plant, not even their spouses.”
Sebastian smiled. “There are so many things that can go wrong with this plan. I’ve never had a project with so much risk. But it’s worth it.”

In the early going, Mark and Sebastian faced numerous problems with these new employees. The biggest problem was the food supply. These creatures couldn’t just roam the streets and kill people, so they chose an urban area with a large homeless population. The plan was to use the homeless as food. They were disposable and nobody would miss them. Sebastian felt he was doing Detroit a favor by getting rid of them.
After a few weeks, newspaper reports surfaced about a substantial number of missing homeless people. Mark decided they needed a new source of food, so they brought illegal immigrants across the Mexican border up to Detroit with the promise of high paying jobs.
Because the undead did not have the best hygiene, they fitted them with plastic smocks and used a special washing procedure to remove unwanted residue from the clothing.
They had bugged the common areas and the managers’ office in order to ensure compliance with their secrecy mandate. Sebastian’s henchmen, Leland and Fitzgerald, monitored these conversations. When they overheard a conversation between two managers, in which one said he was going to go public about the use of undead workers, they quickly dealt with him. From that point forward, nobody talked about unveiling Razzed’s new labor force.
***

Six months later, profits had soared due to their increased margins causing the company’s stock price to soar.
Despite the accidental death of one of the managers, Sebastian couldn’t have been more pleased. The managers would be forced to have Kaunde accompany them when they walked in the areas with undead workers.
His biggest concern was Kaunde. Recently, the shaman had complained that he wasn’t satisfied with the progress of the promise to provide aid to the people of Tanzania.
The last time Kaunde had called him, Sebastian attempted to explain. “Look, Mr. Kaunde, we’re doing everything we can, but the Tanzanian government is a royal pain in the ass. Every time we attempt to do something, they try to attach a million stipulations that make it prohibitive. I understand your frustrations, but you have to believe me when I tell you that we’re doing everything we can.”
Kaunde did not seem satisfied with this answer and voiced his displeasure.
Later, over cocktails, Sebastian said, “I don’t know what his problem is. His country’s government is a mess. If they had their act together, the country wouldn’t be so dirt poor. And what is he so hung up about anyway? Like anything we do will make a difference. The people in that country have been living in poverty for hundreds of years. Nothing we do will change that.”
“Maybe not,” Mark said. “But we need to keep Kaunde happy. Let’s do what he wants.”
“Fine. You to take care of it. You lived in that shit hole before, so you should have an understanding of their customs. Take care of this thing.”
Reluctantly, Mark agreed to the assignment.

Regardless of what Sebastian told Kaunde, the shaman never seemed satisfied. In their last conversation, Kaunde said, “I tire of your lies and excuses. You had better produce results soon or suffer drastic consequences.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. “Is that a threat, Kaunde? We’re working hard to meet your demands and it will happen, but you better watch what you say. I run this company. And you’re my employee. Anybody can be replaced.”
“I do not care how you perceive what I say, but you better produce results.”
Sebastian slammed the phone. Who was this backwards witch doctor to make threats to him? He was the CEO of the most profitable apparel company in the world.
He called Mark, who was in Dar es Salaam in Tanzania. After waiting a half hour, he got a line to Mark’s hotel.
“I’m making excellent progress,” Mark said. “Maybe another month or two of heavy negotiations, and we’ll strike a deal. I’m meeting all of the major players in this country. There are a lot of people holding out their hands to get a piece of it.”
“Well Kaunde’s getting restless,” Sebastian said. “He might try a power play and put his undead on strike or something.”
“Let me talk to him,” Mark said.

Less than a week later, Sebastian was in his office hanging a plaque given to him by the governor of Michigan for outstanding civic involvement and community development. Incidentally, Sebastian was a major contributor to the governor.
He heard a knock on the door. It was Kaunde. “What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked. “Why aren’t you running the plant?”
“There has been a change of plans,” Kaunde said softly. “I am an old man and my patience runs thin. I have warned you to meet my demands, but you have done nothing.”
Listen, Mr. Kaunde…”
The Shaman cut him off. “The time for excuses is over. I would like you to meet two of your employees.”
Sebastian looked in horror as two of Kaunde’s undead walked into his office. The first was tall, but hunched over. Its left eye hung out of its socket. Sebastian cowered away when it smiled and maggots escaped from its mouth. The second was shorter but stood erect. The skin on its forehead was nearly gone, and blood dripped from its mouth.
Sebastian tried to pick up his phone, but before he could reach it, Kaunde grabbed his wrist with amazing strength for an old man. “I am tired of your inability to get things done. Changes are in order. As you said, anybody can be replaced.”
The door to Sebastian’s office was closed by one of the undead. Sebastian frantically looked for an escape path, but there was none to be had. Kaunde watched as they savagely tore into Sebastian, ripping the flesh off of his limbs and feasting on his brains, heart and liver.
When they were finished, Sebastian’s phone rang. Kaunde answered.
“Mr. Kaunde?” Mark said. “I didn’t expect you to answer. Where is Mr. Fulton?”
“Mr. Fulton is no longer among us,” Kaunde replied. “Perhaps we can still make use of him in the Detroit plant, however.”
Mark gulped. “But what happened?”
“Mr. Fulton continued to disappoint me. I do not tolerate failure.”
“Um, I was just calling to say that I have reached an agreement with the president of Tanzania. We will be starting road construction in your country at the end of the month.”
“Very well,” said Kaunde. “Return soon. This is now your company to run. But remember to keep your employees happy, especially the ones that crave your flesh.”
The End