Zombies!
Chapter4 (the next chapter will have a title)
With his plan to distract his parents underway, Artemis made his way to the building described on the company's website. It was three blocks from where they had parked, and as always, he was accompanied by Butler. (They didn't use the limo, as doing so would interfere with their plan) Although the streets were that of a big city Boulevard, they were uncharacteristically empty. (as were the sidewalks) Not a soul could be seen or heard apart from Butler and himself as far as Artemis could see. Which is why it felt a little weird waiting for the crosswalk lights to change when crossing East Sapien street.
Artemis stood outside a large building, 199 Doucheman Blvd., Mr. Clarke's corporation. There were no windows on this, or the North or South sides of the building. There was one tall, thin stone door that, from where Artemis was standing, looked like the only entrance. (But he had a feeling it wasn't… the only entrance, I mean…) Artemis stood in front of the door, (purposely) in the security camera's line of view, and pressed the intercom button. A buzz sounded.
"Please state your full name, and the name of your associate." Asked the clear, rehearsed voice of a young woman who worked there.
"I am Artemis Fowl, and my Associate's name is Butler. I believe we have an appointment."
"Do you have an appointment?"
Artemis raised an eyebrow at the camera.
"Yes, I have. With Mr. Clarke, He- "
"I didn't ask for your life story, kid, just 'yes', or 'no' will be fine. Now, with whom have you scheduled your appointment?"
Artemis felt an urge to reply "No" or "Yes" to he question, but in order to save time, he said; "Mr. Clarke."
"Hmmm… yes, and what were your names again?"
Artemis sighed. So much for saving time. "Artemis, Artemis Fowl." He answered, in the most patient voice he could manage.
"And the other guy?"
"He's Butler."
"Butler who?"
Artemis did not want to give Butler's first name to anybody, in case they tried to do him harm. Up until now he had never needed it. Whenever he had said "Butler" people would immediately know who he was talking about. Artemis, feeling he had stalled long enough, opened his mouth to say something, but the intercom lady beat him to it.
"Like, I mean, is his Name, Butler, or is he Your butler, or just A butler…?"
While Artemis and the intercom played 20 questions with his name, Butler was busy keeping an eye on the so far empty streets. All was clear, until, to his surprise, a man in a midnight blue Armani suit came running up the sidewalk, as if he were trying to escape something. He wore photo grade lenses, though, it was pretty cloudy, so you couldn't really tell, and he carried a suitcase.
"More like The Butler…" Artemis stiffly responded.
"He's like Cher." Said a voice from approximately 2 feet and 8 inches behind him, (Butler stood about 8 inches behind Artemis.) The speaker was a young man, in his early 30's, breathing heavily (but not quite panting) and carrying a suitcase. It was Mr. Clarke, and although a bit sweaty, he seemed to be in good spirits.
"Send 'em in, Cheryl." He told the intercom.
"Okay." It replied, and the tall, thin stone door slid silently down into the ground. The man stepped past Artemis and Butler and into the building. He then turned to Artemis with a smile and said; "Well, Aren't you coming?"