Zombie Society - They Live Among Us Read Online Free PDF Page B

a seat beside a human, a couple rows from the back. She opened her book and tried to concentrate, but the noise from behind proved too distracting.
    “Thaoaehrnaleruaer.” One of them articulated, then, “Harrughhhhh.”
    Shannon slammed the book closed and exhaled.
    The human to her side leaned in close. “The least they can do is talk our fucking language.”
    Shannon stood and turned toward the back. She tilted her head up, rolled back her shoulders and then, as if making a spectacle of it all, began walking the three steps to the rear and took a seat with ceremony.
    She glared down the aisle from between two rotting morts. Nobody looked, but she covered her nose anyway. “Will someone please fucking notice me!”

Executive Order 11246
     
    Up on the ninth floor, John pondered how long the job was taking. Sure, they’d suffered a major setback, losing poor Jimmy Doyle, but John hoped to start on the tenth shortly. He’d since hired a new guy, Roarke O’Flynn, with fifteen years’ experience in the trade. He was good, knowledgeable, hardworking and would prove an asset to the company. On the far wall, Roarke attached the plaster board with a rare speed and efficiency. They were back on schedule.
    The elevator doors pinged open. Roarke who banged nails into the wall turned round to look, causing a ripple effect as twenty heads turned to see Jimmy Doyle dragging his leg along the floor. His right foot, which trailed far behind his leg, pointed the wrong way, his neck hung way off to one side, causing his head to hang beyond the shoulder. On top of all that, he now staggered with a major stoop, as though somebody had taken a sledgehammer to the spine – He was fucked up alright.
    The ninth fell silent, save for the scraping of Jimmy Doyle’s foot on floorboard. Roarke dumped his hammer in the tool box and took a step closer, folding his arms across his giant chest. Everybody else ceased what they were doing too. Fergus seemed to take a few steps toward Jimmy Doyle, perhaps to offer assistance but then thought better of it.
    John folded his arms as the shambling mess approached – How long would this take? Should he close the gap, help him out? Maybe not.
    Finally, after several minutes, Jimmy Doyle stopped a few paces from John, the stench wafting through his breathing apparatus. John felt the overwhelming urge to cover his nostrils, but thought it better to at least try and be polite. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?” John asked, looking Jimmy Doyle cold in the eyes. “I’ve had the Department of Labor breathing up my asshole.”
    Jimmy Doyle didn’t flinch, blink or even breathe, just kind of gazed through John with empty eyes. “Me…Job…Give back…Now!” His jaw must’ve suffered a shattering on the asphalt because the grating sound it made came out louder than the actual words.
    “Fuck off!” John said, turning away, finally bringing a hand up to cover his nose and mouth.
    After a few seconds, the shuffling sounds started up again. Then after several minutes the elevator doors pinged to a close.
    It was around three hours later when the damn elevator opened again. This time Jimmy Doyle was accompanied by a tall, rake thin, bespectacled human in suit and tie, with the face of a dead fish. The man waited for Jimmy Doyle to suffer his way to John, though he offered no assistance. Had the man nothing better to do? John checked his watch and considered making a start on installing the lighting. Then Jimmy Doyle neared and just as before, the workmen downed tools and stared as the shambling mess that was their former colleague approached the boss.
    “Mr Quinn?” The man asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Hello, my name’s Tony Dankworth and I’m a Mort Assimilation Enforcement Officer from the Office of Federal Contract Compliance Programs.” An ID badge hung around his neck with his name and ‘OFCCP’ printed in large letters. “I’m afraid we’ve received a complaint.”
    John bucked.