Disclaimer

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Saxophone Blues is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, are coincidental. References to characters, places, products, or brand names are for entertainment purposes only and no identification with such incidents are intended or should be inferred.

 

Saxophone Blues contains mature subject matter. Recommended for adult readers aged 18 years or over. Reader discretion is advised as the content may include explicit language, sexuality, violence, and other themes that may not be suitable for all audiences. The views, opinions, and activities depicted in this work are not necessarily endorsed by the author.

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Episode 07

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Jimothy Dyck was working overtime at the office – again. He was covering for Jerry, who hadn’t been seen since Monday. The birthday card for Linda he had left on Jerry’s desk was still lying there, unsigned.

 

“Where the hell is Jerry?” Jimothy complained to his boss, Cheryl. “He still owes me five dollars for Linda’s gift.”

 

“He never called in,” Cheryl replied without looking up from her computer.  

 

“He’s probably dead,” Jimothy concluded. “Got his face eaten off by a zombie.”

 

“We don’t know that,” Cheryl clarified, matter-of-factly.  

 

Jimothy looked awkwardly at Cheryl, trying to think of an excuse to go home early.

 

“Did you sign the card?” Cheryl finally asked.

 

Jimothy sighed, pushed up his dark-rimmed glasses, held together with a strip of white tape, and went back to his cubicle. On the way there, he stopped at Jerry’s desk and stole his stapler.

 

Jerry’s job was to make the PowerPoint slides for Jimothy’s quarterly sales report. Now it was Jimothy’s problem – and he couldn’t get the damn YouTube video to play. Jimothy was just about ready to lose it so he reached out to I.T. for help.

 

A few minutes later, Suzi from I.T. shuffled into Jimothy’s office with an assault rifle slung over her shoulder.

 

The government’s solution to the zombie apocalypse was to arm the citizenry with more guns, thinking the problem would eventually go away.

 

Suzi leaned the rifle against Jimothy’s desk and greeted him with a nervous smile.

 

“Hey, Jimothy.” Suzi’s smile lingered as she ran a hand through her long, blonde hair.

 

“Hey, Suzi,” Jimothy mumbled, “I can’t get this video to play.”

 

“Hmmm – lemme see,” Suzi leaned in close, her chipped red-painted nails brushing Jimothy’s hand on the computer mouse. Suzi clicked open the video of @hernameismswhiskers the cat hanging from a tree with the caption, ‘Hang in there!’”

 

“Ha! I love @hernameismswhiskers.” Suzi giggled as she touched Jimothy’s arm. Her hand felt cold and clammy against his skin. “Did you watch Mystery Cat last night?” Suzi asked.

 

“Yes!” Jimothy grinned. He loved the hit television series, Mystery Cat, starring @hernameismswhiskers as the crime-solving cat, Kitty Holmes, and her partner, Detective Rachel Miau.

 

“@hernameismswhiskers is totally a zombie!” Jimothy claimed, “The studio never even replaced her!”

 

“I know, right!?!” Suzi laughed out loud, leaning in closer. “They’re not even trying to hide it!”

 

“That’s Hollywood – drag out a show until it’s way past dead.”

 

Suzi blushed as she made eyes with Jimothy. “What are you doing after work?” she asked, smiling coyly, “We should grab a bite together.”

 

That’s when Jimothy noticed the bite mark under Suzi’s arm. The flesh around Suzi’s wound was already starting to rot. Within hours, Suzi would become deathly ill with the zombie fever, exhibiting symptoms of pale and sweaty skin, irritability, confusion, and uncontrollable hunger.

 

Jimothy glanced up. Suzi was licking her lips at him, and not in a sexy way. Her wanting eyes hungered for a hunk of Jimothy’s man-meat.  

 

“Suzi – you’re infected!” Jimothy exclaimed, loud enough for the entire office to hear.

 

Suzi quickly stood up and yanked her sleeve down. “No, I’m not!”

 

The next few moments in the office descended into pandemonium as news of Suzi’s infection spread.

 

Ted from accounting spilled hot coffee on his shirt as he reached for his revolver. Sherry from public relations shrieked, “It’s not an outbreak!” she insisted, “It’s an unexpected health challenge!” Devin took one look at the clock and said, “Fuck this!” He sprinted down the stairs, out the door, and around the corner where he ran head first into a zombie horde. 

 

The office watched from the third floor as Devin got his face eaten off by zombies. It was another goddamn fucking Wednesday at the office. “Not bad,” Jimothy thought as he eyed Devin’s new office chair.

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To be continued...