A/N: This is my first ever The Office story, and I am very intrigued to ponder how different characters would survive in a zombie apocalyptic world. So this is going to be my take on how the Office characters would do it. I have tweaked few details to make it more interesting. I hope you enjoy it :)
"I've always thought that we do need a new plague. The world was over populated as it was, but I do have to admit, this wasn't quite what I had in mind. Of course, I knew this was the possibility the whole time, since the government started to play with biochemical weapons. Still I did hope that the plague that would wipe the slate clean would have been a bit easier to survive. Not that there was ever any question that I would make it, but there is going to be one hell of a job to repopulate the Earth once this blows over…"
Jim let his forehead thud against the cold surface of the car window and closed his eyes. He let Dwight ramble on and on, but was barely listening anymore. There would have once been time, when Jim would have pretended to be interested in Dwight's lectures and the managed to turn it around on him and made fun of him. But he had learned to let Dwight rant. It was his way to calm down and keep the situation under control.
At least as much as he could keep anything under control… so much was out of their hands in this world, and that's why Dwight gave his all, to control his car. That's why Jim only ever drove when Dwight could not.
They both looked like they had been to Hell and back. Even though their attire was quite clean, the clothes were ripped from several points and hung on their bodies like plus size outfit on a child mannequin. Jim's shirt had probably once been white, but now it looked more like a rusty colour; the blood never came out. He also had a deep cut on his right cheek that had barely started to heal, and Dwight's glasses had several points where they had been fixed with tape. Both of them had the start of a beard that were in that awkward phase were it wasn't a stubble anymore, but not quite the proper beard yet.
But no, they hadn't been to Hell and back. They were still there.
Jim pulled himself away from the window and warily opened his eyes. The sun was going down.
They were driving on a highway, on which they were the only things alive. It was littered with occasional cars and bodies. Jim swore that he even saw a rabbit once. Occasional walkers roamed the sides of the roads wavering in and out of the forest that started almost immediately from where the road ended. It was obvious that Mother Nature had started to take back what was originally hers; the weeds and hay were all around and in most places reached over Jim's knees. Most of the time it was possible to forget what was going on in the world, because everything was calm and even beautiful, but there were the crude moments as well. Like when Jim was forced to witness someone recently deceased being ripped apart by the undead.
"We should stop for a while, take a stroll, eat and then look for a place to park for the night," Jim said.
"I know. I have been searching for a spot to stop while you have been completely useless, but as you clearly haven't noticed we are in a very zombie infested area," Dwight answered.
"There are barely any—, "Jim stopped quickly as his eyes focused on the forest. He could quickly tell that Dwight was right; there were dozens of walkers roaming the blush greens of the forest, which had concealed them from Jim when he hadn't been paying enough attention.
"As you can see, I am right. So I am just going to keep driving till we pass most of them."
Jim completely ignored the smugness in Dwight's voice; he knew better than to let Dwight notice something that he hadn't, so now he just had to put up with it.
"Where do you think they are going?" Jim asked, and his eyes were following one walker that was swaying from its pack. It was walking almost straight towards the road, and the car, but was quickly left behind to shuffle towards the empty road.
Dwight took a glance out of the window and shrugged.
"Hard to say... I haven't heard anything that would attract them in such large groups. Might be pack of wounded animals," Dwight pondered. Jim settled to sit normally on his seat and kept his eyes looking at the road ahead to avoid seeing any of the walkers.
"Yeah, it just always makes me uneasy when they gather like that."
Dwight nodded in agreement. That was something everyone in this world had in common. A couple of walkers weren't usually too hard to take out, because they were slow, and they didn't know how to stop the mindless growling. Of course, all of this only happened if a person was carrying a weapon with them, but there wouldn't be anyone stupid enough to walk around unarmed.
Jim let the silence sit back in, but kept his eyes active.
They had been on the road longer than either of them cared to remember. Before all of this happened, they had both been salesmen in the same paper company; Dunder-Mifflin, the Utica branch.
But that was what now felt like million years ago. Before their co-workers had madly started to chew each other and then attacked them. It made Jim shiver just thinking about it.
Now when Jim thought about that time it seemed stupid that he hadn't gotten more worried or done anything when Rolando, the receptionist of their branch, had come in shocked and screaming that someone bit him in the parking lot. Dwight had been the only one who paid close attention to his wounds and wanted to know the story down to the last detail. Their manager had of course been worried, and she wanted to send him home, but Rolando had said he would be fine.
Who knows what would have happened if Rolando had left for home, and turned by himself in his apartment? Instead of that, he got feverish and started to sweat. Everyone in the office could see that he was visibly sick, shaking and finally breaking down and running to the toilet to be sick. But the thing that came out, wasn't Rolando anymore, but a monster that had taken over.
Jim shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts of that day. After Rolando had come out of the bathroom, all hell broke loose in the office and Jim just wanted to forget about it.
Jim tried to get a bit more comfortable in the seat, but his backside started to get numb after the hours of sitting in the car. The cracks in the asphalt that weren't any longer maintained definitely didn't make the seats any nicer to sit on.
As if Dwight had read Jim's mind, he started to slow down. The pack had disappeared from their vision, but the place didn't look like a proper spot to have a break at. There were two cars that had crashed into each other and three walkers that started immediately to walk closer to their car.
"Dwight, what are you doing? This is hardly the place to stop for a break. Besides we don't know how far the pack is from us yet!"
"We are not stopping here for a break. We are going to take a look into these two cars in case there is something we could use. And it is just three walkers. You can't be scared of only three, can you, Jim?" Dwight said.
"I am not scared, and in the future you could let me know before you just randomly stop," Jim mumbled. He hated how many times he had let Dwight have the upper hand of him today, so he continued:
"But if the pack catches a scent of us, or hears us, I am locking myself into the car and driving away. You will be left behind."
Dwight laughed as he got out of the car. Jim followed suit.
"You have no chance of beating me to the car. I would push you for the zombies and be out of here before they had taken their first bite," Dwight scoffed.
The three walkers started to shuffle closer to the two men, and Jim took his knife from its spot on his belt.
"There is no way you would be able to just push me away. I am way too fast for you to even grab a hold of me," Jim laughed and casually walked closer to the undead.
"Oh Jim, you are so delusional," Dwight shook his head and fired his crossbow. The walker closest to Dwight got an arrow in between its eyes, and it dropped to the ground. Dwight casually walked over and pulled the arrow out.
"Me? Delusional? You think you are invincible with that crossbow," Jim pointed out. The second walker was only a step away from Jim, when he took hold of its jaw with his left hand and yanked the knife into its brain with his right.
Dwight took the third one out with a clean shot to the forehead and turned to smile cockily at Jim.
"Nothing has proven me wrong yet. You, on the other hand, are so pathetic with your little knives," Dwight said and then walked to get his arrow.
"What would you have me use then Dwight, a loud gun that attracts all of the walkers in a two mile radius?" Jim scoffed as he walked towards one of the cars. He wasn't overly excited to see what was inside; sometimes there were full families trapped and eventually turned into walkers. The windows had gathered so much dirt over the times that it was impossible to peek inside before opening the door. As Jim's hand reached the handle he froze.
He took a quick glance at Dwight who was just looking at him with his crossbow ready. Jim knew without having to ask that Dwight was thinking about the exact same moment he was: months and months ago, when they hadn't been on the road for long, they had done a similar kind of raid. Dwight had always insisted on keeping their essentials in shape and he never let anything ran out. Back then they had been so innocent and naïve about things.
Dwight had pulled the door open of that red Buick without back up or a wide enough stance to take on what was on the other side. The girl who jumped on him couldn't have been older than five. Jim had been at another car and it took him a while to notice what was going on. Dwight had been pushing the girl away by her shoulders, but she kept trying to gnaw at him. He was obviously too stunned to try to do anything else than keep her away. When the walker, who had most likely been her mother, crawled out of the car, Jim ran to Dwight's aid.
He had kicked the mother away and crammed a knife into the girl's head. It forced Dwight into action and he let go of the girl on top of him. He grabbed his gun from his jeans waist and shot the mother. She fell dead on top of Jim who dropped on top of the girl and Dwight because of the surprise weight. Panicking, he had gotten rid of the mother, and helped Dwight up from under the girl's body. He had felt positively sick, and he kept wiping his hands. But the worst was only coming, when they went to check the car.
The baby couldn't have been more than a year old. It pushed Jim over the edge; he had backed down few steps and been sick next to their own car. When he had heard the gunshot, he vomited again.
They never talked about it afterwards, but Dwight had disappeared for an hour just before the dark. He came back still shaking, and still looking green around the edges, but he had tried to get their usual mocking conversation going.
So now when Jim was opening the door of the car that was again a red one, he knew both of them were thinking about that.
Dwight slightly nodded to Jim, and Jim pulled the door open. He jumped backwards with his knife raised high, but no one attacked. They were greeted by a rotten dead corpse and a smell that made Jim's stomach lurch.
"Well, I don't know. You could try one of the cool machetes. In case you would know how to use that kind of thing," Dwight continued like nothing happened. He walked next to his companion and together they rolled the rotting, disgusting body out of the car. It had a big hole in its head and gun that he had made it with was found on the floor.
Smoothly Dwight pocketed it.
"How different do you think a machete is to a knife?" Jim scoffed and continued then looking at the body "Do you think he did it while driving? And that is why they crashed?"
Dwight turned to look at the body and then glanced at the other car.
"Possibly. You are just proving to me that you know absolutely nothing," Dwight said and then started going through the car. Jim walked to the other side and started his own search.
"There is only one solution to this. You have to show off some of those machete skills next time we have some walkers to try it with," Jim hid his half smile. He knew that it was stupid to try to get Dwight do something like this; because he would! Asking him to show off is guaranteed to give Jim a great show! But Jim asked anyway, he would be there to back Dwight up, and besides... What other entertainment did he have?
"Gladly. You will be amazed," Dwight mumbled, but was too focused on searching through the piles of stuff on the backseat to sound excited or cocky.
"There are some blankets we can use, but otherwise this is pretty much junk. Who takes their photo albums when the world is ending? They are not even hollowed out!" Dwight sighed disapprovingly. Jim's thoughts went immediately to the picture in his private bag; the only thing he had grabbed from his table at the office. It was a picture of him and his brothers.
Jim moved to search the trunk and only found few pieces of clothing that might be useful.
"Trunk is a bust as well," he informed Dwight.
"Alright," Dwight sighed. They both moved automatically to the next car, and repeated the routine.
The second car hadn't been a success either, but they had managed to obtain some gas out of both cars. After that they had driven for another half an hour and then stopped to eat. They had a can of sardines each; something that Jim would not have eaten ever in a million years in a normal civilisation. They jumped back into driving quickly, trying to find a place to stop for the night.
After an hour of driving in a silence, Jim looked at the sun nervously. They had an hour, maybe a little less, to find a place, and he hated nothing more than moving during the dark.
"Dwight, we really need to stop soon," he remarked.
"Don't you think I know that? I've been scanning the surroundings this whole time," Dwight sneered and shook his head, "You are the worst person to face the end of the world with. Without you, I would have probably saved the Earth already."
Jim didn't grace Dwight's rant with an answer, but instead kept his eyes open for a place that looked safe enough for the night. He didn't care about Dwight's words. He had heard them plenty of times before: he had said them plenty of times before. These days it was just casual remark to remind the other person that they weren't friends, but just forced to spend the remaining of their lives together – however long that might be. In the beginning, it had been true though.
They had escaped miraculously from their office to Dwight's farm. They had to kill Dwight's cousin Mose, who – as Dwight repeatedly told Jim during the first weeks – he would have much rather been stuck with.
Those weeks were the absolute worst of Jim's life. It sounds weird, taking into account the situation, but things got better after that.
"What if we drive close to that car wreck, and lock our doors?" Jim suggested, pointing to the right lane that had once been full of panicked people trying to get out of the big cities, but that now was just a massive graveyard of cars crushed together. It looked like that the first driver was unable to get out of the way of the first abandoned car, and the rest of the cars had piled on that one. There were at least a hundred cars in one pile up, and there were a few dotted around when people had abandoned their vehicles.
Dwight seemed to undergo a slight inner battle trying to figure out a way to best Jim's plan.
"Just drive, without lights, and slowly, making as little noise as…"
"I know, Jim!" Dwight snapped and flipped his lights off. Slowly he drove on the unruly grass that covered the small gap between the lanes. He guided the car as close as he dared to the first car in the wreck. There was still plenty of space to escape if it was needed.
Sighing, Dwight turned the engine off and grabbed some blankets from the back seat. He threw one for Jim and then lowered his seat, so he could lie in it. Jim took one last look around them, and after seeing no movement, he followed Dwight's example. They were accustomed at going to sleep – or in most cases just lying down – at the last light of the day. Nights were the most active time for the walkers, and it was better to try and make themselves invisible for those hours.
They quietly watched the sun disappear for the night, carefully avoiding looking directly into the cars that were now in front of them: more often than not there was something a person didn't want to see. They were quiet and fallen into their own thoughts; Jim feeling constant pain for the life and dreams he would never get. Sometimes, in Jim's darkest and loneliest hours, he wished that his desk at Dunder-Mifflin wouldn't have been the one next to Dwight's, and therefore preventing him being the person that Dwight grabbed when things got tight. Sometimes he just really wanted to be bitten and that Dwight would have to put him down. He would never voice these thoughts out loud; he knew that it was the coward in him that wanted the easy way out.
Jim let his eyes slide to Dwight, who didn't even bother trying to fall sleep. He was just watching in front of him with a dull expression. And Jim knew he could never do it to Dwight. Another thing he would never say out loud, but he would never intentionally leave Dwight alone to struggle in this world. Jim liked to think that it was because Dwight had saved him in the beginning, but it was so much more than that.
"Stop staring, you freak," Dwight snapped, and Jim immediately moved his gaze out of the car.
"You are just so beautiful I can't stop looking," Jim answered, but his words were lacking its usual playfulness.
Dwight just snorted and went back to him blank staring. Jim let his eyes wander back to the edge of the forest.
It must have been closer to the morning when Jim woke up to uneven tapping and quiet scratching. He fought to get rid of the last remains of sleep and scanned his surroundings. The sounds got only louder when he tried to make his eyes used to the darkness around them.
A louder bang sounded from his right, and Jim immediately turned to look at the window. It took him another second to realize that he was staring into the half rotten face of a walker. Jim jolted into action.
"DWIGHT!" he yelled, knowing there was no use of being quiet anymore, and reached to grab guns from the back seat. Quickly he checked that both of them were fully loaded, and then punched Dwight's arm. Jim knew that Dwight hardly slept anymore, but when he did he slept like he was dead.
Jim's eyes had already gotten use to the darkness and a quick glance through the windscreen showed that the few walkers that found them were inviting their friends. But Dwight was oblivious to what was happening around them, and just snored away gently.
"God dammit, Dwight! Wake up! We are under attack!" Jim yelled and cursed as he kept violently shaking Dwight. This was not the first time they had been surprised during their sleep, and Jim knew from experience that he could do nothing to fight the things off without Dwight being awake and controlling the car.
"Umm, what…?" Dwight mumbled as he finally started to wake up.
"Walkers! Drive, now!" Jim shouted. That was all that Dwight needed to jump into action. In a matter of seconds the car was alive, even though the driver was most likely still half asleep. Dwight snapped the lights on, but the second he did, Jim hoped he wouldn't have. Masses of walkers were wobbling towards them – some coming through the open windows of the cars, some coming from the edge of the forest. Jim swallowed hard as Dwight started to reverse the car and they could hear the cracking of bones as some of the undead got crushed under. Dwight looked as nauseated as Jim felt; it seemed like no matter how many months you fight for your life you never get use to it.
Jim rolled his window down when they were few feet away from the closest walker, and reached out. Before this all, Jim had never shot a gun. Now he took a deep breath and shot the nearest one between the eyes, and moved to the next one, before the first one even hit the ground. As Dwight drove, Jim took down as many walkers as he was able to.
He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he closed the window and sat back down. A quick glance to Dwight, told him that he was definitely feeling something as well. He was staring in front of him, without saying a word or even taking a glimpse of Jim. Both of his hands were squeezing the wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned white.
Jim concentrated on calming his breathing and let Dwight have his space; he was probably still confused and half asleep. Jim himself was still squeezing the guns on his lap, trying to hide the shaking his whole body was doing.
"Very good suggestion, Jim. I love waking up to a zombie attack. One of my favourite things ever," Dwight finally spoke, and Jim immediately wished he hadn't.
"It was a good idea and you know it. It was just bad luck that they noticed us. Or maybe you were screaming in your sleep again."
"Oh yes, I do scream in my sleep. And not you. 'Karen, Karen'," Dwight chuckled coldly and mimicked Jim's voice.
"Don't you dare! At least I woke up, and got us the hell out of there, unlike you who would have just slept through it all, and let us be eaten!" Jim's voice was rising. Dwight had no reason to bring Karen in to this.
"If you would just get over about the fact that you got your girlfriend eaten, no one would have needed to wake up!"
"Stop the car!"
Dwight slammed the breaks, and Jim got out of the car the second it stopped. The morning sun was peeking from behind the ripple of clouds, and that was lucky for Jim. He wouldn't have stayed in the car for another second no matter how dark, and being as angry as he was he might have got his wish from earlier.
He slammed the car door shut as hard as he could and walked briskly away.
Jim paced around for a bit, and ran both of his hands through his hair. He wished he could just walk away and never had to see Dwight's annoying face again, but he knew better than to do something so hasty. He had tried that a few times; Dwight had left him a few times, but it always ended up one of them getting into trouble and the other one saving them.
Plus all of the weapons and the food was Dwight's.
But it was so hard to think about it rationally. Dwight didn't talk about Karen ever, at least not after they had left his farm. He didn't talk about any of their old workmates, Jim had always assumed he felt the same guilt that was ravishing Jim from the inside. That maybe some had been alive when they fled their office and saved their own asses. That maybe they sentenced some people to their deaths, because they were scared.
Now it seemed that he didn't feel that though. That he blamed Jim for it… For Karen.
Oh, how Jim wished he could have screamed, but that would have been a bad idea. The walkers could hear it. More than anything Jim wanted to walk to Dwight, and yell to him. Maybe even punch him in the face. But they were all bad ideas and he needed to remind himself consciously that those kinds of actions would only make things worse.
So instead of screaming and punching Jim took few big steps even further away from the car and Dwight, and let himself fall down. He anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, and whenever a wave of emotion washed through him, he pulled. Jim had been able to avoid thinking about the specifics of that day in quite a while, and he had learned to brush things off his mind as quickly as they came, but he was not able to brush off Dwight's words.
Now things came rushing into his mind, and all he could think about was the screams of the people in the office; Dwight's sudden action and the weapon that appeared into his hand in a second; Martin turning after being so unlucky to be in the toilet with Rolando; the blood gushing out of the Tony's neck when Rolando bit him; the horrified cry that came from Karen's office.
Jim had to shake his head violently and pull his head harder. His vision was filled with blood and guts, and he could hear the screams like it was happening all over again.
Suddenly Jim opened his eyes.
How dare he? Jim wanted to ask that from Dwight, but wouldn't because he felt like Dwight was right. He had gotten Karen killed – no worse! He had gotten her eaten without even really trying to save her. Jim pulled his hair harder, trying to keep from screaming out of frustration.
Slowly Dwight got out of the car as well. Jim was a bit surprised that he was still there. In his anger he kind of hoped he wasn't. Maybe they were better without each other. Jim refused to even look at him. He was too angry for his words, and he knew that seeing that face would just make him angrier.
"We should move. I don't think we are far enough from the zombies yet," Dwight said in his normal tone, and Jim knew what that meant. He was ready to just drop it. Jim took few more breaths, and nodded. There was no time to hold on to grudges in this world. Although Jim so desperately wanted to.
Sighing Jim got up from the ground, and started to bury everything deep inside of him as he should have done in the first place.
They climbed back into the car and kept driving.
The day slowly dragged on, and the two men in the tiny car avoided talking and looking each other. It wasn't the first, nor would it be the last day they spent in the quiet. They shared a jar of sun ripened tomatoes sometime past noon, after they had crossed the Pennsylvania state line.
It was another hot summer's day, and it felt weird to Jim that days like that still existed. The trees were lush and flowers bloomed everywhere. It all felt so wrong, but still Jim kept his eyes on the outside world, and whenever he got a glimpse of a walker his stomach dropped a little bit. It only seemed natural, that when humans were in that state that the world should be dying. But instead, it was healing.
"Can we stop for a while? I would love a chance to stretch my legs, because I've been cramped in this tin can for hours now," Jim asked, and gave the car a disgusted look.
Jim had suggested Dwight many times that they should abandon Dwight's car and switch it to something roomier. It was basically their home after all, and so many nights Jim had wanted to just beat the crap out of the stupid thing, because he was unable to get comfortable. It was easier for Dwight because he was shorter, but Jim could barely even sit in that car without feeling uncomfortable. No matter what Jim said though, Dwight absolutely refused to even listen. He had loved his car even before the end of the world, but now it was the only thing that reminded him of his old life. But the car definitely had it good sides; it was fast, small and easy to get away from an ambush of walkers.
It wasn't even only that Jim was too tall for the car; it was the amount of stuff Dwight had managed to hoard in it. Yeah yeah, they might need it someday, and that was probably true, but what Jim wouldn't give to just empty the backseat on the side of the road and lie down there.
Even though Jim hated the car, but most of the time he said nothing about it. And when he did, he whined about it being uncomfortable, but not really demanding a change. Dwight let a lot of things Jim did slip without as much as a word, so it was a fair trade. They had learned to read each other better than either of them would have ever wanted, and in the world they lived in now, they had to let each other be – at least sometimes.
Dwight sighed dramatically and slowly stopped.
"You are such a baby," he said, but he seemed to enjoy having a little walk himself. They both took guns and knives with them when they exited the vehicle, just in case.
Jim stretched and started walking away from the car – and in a different direction than Dwight. No matter how long they had been driving together after the incident, Dwight's words still burned red in Jim's mind. So he took the risk of going alone, just to calm his mind a little.
It all seemed very quiet around him, and he took a turn left down a small dirt road unconsciously. He knew it was a bad idea, and that he put himself into a more of a danger turning off the main road alone, but still he wanted to see what was along it.
He walked for 10 minutes before he started to feel a bit stupid. There would most likely be nothing here, and he would just walk into another walker ambush. Jim stopped, and was just about to head back when he heard a voice. Automatically he pulled the knife from his belt and raised it. But the voice wasn't a grunt from an undead, but it was…. talking.
Jim was too far to tell who it was or what was said, but he was sure it was humans talking. So silently he started moving to the direction of the voices. He had to exit the road, which made him bit uneasy, but he wanted to know. He needed to know. Taking extra care of not making any noise as he moved through the woods, he got closer, and finally he could hear what was said.
"Angela, I have done this alone so many times, and I know it is not very nice job, but you could help me. You are already here," a sweet female voice said and Jim detected some annoyance in it.
"I am not going to touch anyone's dirty clothes," another female said.
Slowly Jim took one more step, so he was hidden behind a tree, but was still able to see the speakers. Two women were standing on different sides of a pile of what looked like clothes. One of them was petite and blonde, and she wore a look of pure annoyance on her face. And the other one… Jim's heart skipped a beat when he looked at her. She was small, but not as small as the other one, and her hair was a mild shade of red.
"Okay, I understand, but someone needs to do this," the redhead said.
"Then you might as well get to work," the blonde answered.
A/N: So that's the first chapter. Please drop a few lines to let me know what you thought. I will try to update next chapter next week. :)