I woke up in a manner that was becoming much too common and probably wasn't very good for my health. I was on the cold, hard ground with a bad headache, dinged up more than the ordinary cop and no idea how I got here. Well, no poking this time. Instead, I was greeted by an evil voice ready to explain it all. "Welcome, Captain Strong. You may be wondering where you are. You're in our dining room. We prefer our meals live and active. Well, this is active enough. Dig in, boys."
This wasn't sounding good. It probably began to drop around that dining room part. I felt around for my handgun and it was foolishly left in my holster. I whipped it out, jumped up and put it up to the zombie's head. "Any of you come closer and your precious leader gets it right in the head," I yelled in the most intimidating way I could while still half-conscious. Man, I can get pretty irrational during those initial post-unconsciousness moments. I had no idea what this zombie meant to them, if he meant anything at all, and forgot about the whole zombies can take gunshots in like sponges thing.
"Hey, put the gun down, man. It's just me," the guy with the gun to his head said quite coolly.
I looked in front of me then around. It was just the baker and no one was around me except the familiar baked goods and someone looking at the cakes. "Oh, sorry about that. Would you mind filling me in on everything again?"
"Not this time, but I'm sure she could help," he said, pointing to the cake woman.
"Hi, how are you now?" The voice was familiar, but not as familiar as the mile-wide, mile-high, mile-deep in terms of personality smile.
"Well, I'm alive. That's good enough for me."
"That's great!" She giggled then I actually began getting some information out of her. "Well, you jumped through the mach pizza window last night. You might have remembered that, but you were down for a while after that. I didn't know what happened or what to do at first, but I knew I had to get you out. But a zombie must have come back for you. I threw a hot pizza in its face and broke a broom over his head. While he was trying to get back up, I drug you here. I think the Mach Pizza will be down for a while. We're missing a window and I heard our pizza maker and boss screaming and begging for mercy." She seemed more disappointment about being forced to leave Mach Pizza for a while.
"Thanks for all your help."
"No problem! Is there anything I can do for you? Bread? Water? Danish?"
"Not right now. You missed a spot, so maybe a band-aid?" I picked a bit of glass out of my shin. Not as bad as I thought. "Forget the band-aid. What about the time?"
"It's five o'clock. Wow, you've been asleep for a while! I'll have a simple dinner ready soon. You have to be hungry!"
I was, but was too busy mapping tomorrow out in my mind. I had already wasted a day. I needed to use the next wisely. She had a loaf of bread and was going through the refrigerator. "So, what are you making tonight? I doubt it'll be pizza."
"Maybe in a few days. Tonight, I'm just doing a sandwich. Turkey if that's fine with you."
"Of course. I haven't had any of that in a while." She had nicer hands than I had noticed before. Nice feet too. I don't have x-ray vision, but I'm sure those feet would have been the first thing I noticed if I had it. And if she wasn't required to wear shoes while working too. "So, what's your name? I never bothered to get it."
"Sharon. I always thought it was a nice name. I saw your tag and badge, Chief Strong, but didn't want to go through your wallet just to get your first."
"Just call me Strong. I'm too used to it now. It's the only name I hear at work, at home and even my mom has begun calling me by that."
"Ok, sure. Whatever goes for you. Eat up, Strong." She looked over to the baker, who was working on some pastry. I always looked at them as procrastinators. "So, y'all gonna eat or are you too busy now?"
"I'll eat later."
"Wow, this is great," I said honestly. "Thanks for the sandwich. I haven't eaten anything worth noting in a while. I wasn't even able to get much out of that last pizza I got."
"Thanks a lot," she said, a bit flattered. She looked down at her sandwich, blushing. It was the first time I saw her without that huge smile on her face, but it returned quickly. "I didn't think it would be anything special. Just a typical turkey sandwich, but maybe I should make these more often."
"You really should. If I were able to make these, it would be something I'd do at least weekly. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to go with pizza for an entire week. I probably wouldn't even be able to do it twice in a row."
"You know what?" She did rhetorical questions better than anyone back at the station. They're just too straightforward. "There was this guy at the drug store a few days ago that said almost the same exact thing. He had a mushroom pizza with extra cheese that day so I recognized the voice. He was with this other guy. The other guy didn't say much, though. He didn't even say what he wanted. I don't know if the other guy said anything at all. Well, the mushroom guy said that he didn't know much about this whole zombie thing. He said something like 'all I know is that these zombies see each other as equals. There is no leader. There are some that take action more, but the slackers when it comes to brain eating seem to be treated equally.' He had an interesting idea, but I'm not so sure anymore. I was working overtime, but I heard about the tent thing." She took a sip of her drink, then looked right at me with those beautiful brown eyes of hers. It's weird. I always looked at brown eyes as boring and plain, but there was something different here. "So, what do you think about all of this?"
"I don't know. I've heard so much I don't know what to believe at this point. But I guess that could be the case. I've heard nothing that goes against it." I took a quick look outside. It was dark, but not pitch black. Probably two thirds through the transition to dark. "Wow, it's pretty early for sunset. Any idea what day it is?"
"Of course. It's the twentieth. Time goes by quickly, doesn't it?"
"Too quickly. I could have sworn the last day I saw before I got here was the tenth. How many concussions have you ever had, Sharon?"
"None, of course! Working in a pizza place isn't very dangerous unless you're sticking your hand in the oven out of boredom."
"That's two less than I've had this past month, so your memory is probably a bit sharper than mine. That and you've got youth on your side."
"I'm sure you're not that much older than I am."
"Sure you are. I'd estimate you at 24."
"Wow, you're good. Exactly 24. Now, let me guess your age." She got up close and took a good look at my moustache. "My aunt has this trick where she can guess anyone's age - man or woman - just by looking at their facial hair." She let out some weird noise of frustration and sat back down. "Yours is just too perfect. I've never really studied facial hair and you don't have any of those things I remember that my aunt went by. What about your tie?" I looked down at it, surprised it was still in decent condition. "Undo your tie then re-do it. I've worked with all kinds of people. Maybe their tying has something to do with the age." I slowly undid my tie due to the firmness and tried to tie it as closely as I normally do. "Ok, that's great. I'm not too sure about this one, but 38?"
"33. Maybe I made myself sound a bit older than I really am, but that police work can make you feel like a geezer after having it piled on most of your life."
"Well, I'm sure police work isn't all that bad. You get to help people and you make a difference. And you get free sandwiches too!" She giggled, took our empty plates and put them in the kitchen sink.
"Yeah, I guess it's not all that bad. But there are times like this where you really get a lot taken out of you."
"Well, I'm sure all your work won't be wasted. Well, I have to prove that this space I'm taking up won't be wasted," she said in reference to her dish-washing duties. "You should get some sleep." I followed her suggestion and fell asleep as easily as a pro wrestler with 7 midgets hanging off his neck.
This wasn't sounding good. It probably began to drop around that dining room part. I felt around for my handgun and it was foolishly left in my holster. I whipped it out, jumped up and put it up to the zombie's head. "Any of you come closer and your precious leader gets it right in the head," I yelled in the most intimidating way I could while still half-conscious. Man, I can get pretty irrational during those initial post-unconsciousness moments. I had no idea what this zombie meant to them, if he meant anything at all, and forgot about the whole zombies can take gunshots in like sponges thing.
"Hey, put the gun down, man. It's just me," the guy with the gun to his head said quite coolly.
I looked in front of me then around. It was just the baker and no one was around me except the familiar baked goods and someone looking at the cakes. "Oh, sorry about that. Would you mind filling me in on everything again?"
"Not this time, but I'm sure she could help," he said, pointing to the cake woman.
"Hi, how are you now?" The voice was familiar, but not as familiar as the mile-wide, mile-high, mile-deep in terms of personality smile.
"Well, I'm alive. That's good enough for me."
"That's great!" She giggled then I actually began getting some information out of her. "Well, you jumped through the mach pizza window last night. You might have remembered that, but you were down for a while after that. I didn't know what happened or what to do at first, but I knew I had to get you out. But a zombie must have come back for you. I threw a hot pizza in its face and broke a broom over his head. While he was trying to get back up, I drug you here. I think the Mach Pizza will be down for a while. We're missing a window and I heard our pizza maker and boss screaming and begging for mercy." She seemed more disappointment about being forced to leave Mach Pizza for a while.
"Thanks for all your help."
"No problem! Is there anything I can do for you? Bread? Water? Danish?"
"Not right now. You missed a spot, so maybe a band-aid?" I picked a bit of glass out of my shin. Not as bad as I thought. "Forget the band-aid. What about the time?"
"It's five o'clock. Wow, you've been asleep for a while! I'll have a simple dinner ready soon. You have to be hungry!"
I was, but was too busy mapping tomorrow out in my mind. I had already wasted a day. I needed to use the next wisely. She had a loaf of bread and was going through the refrigerator. "So, what are you making tonight? I doubt it'll be pizza."
"Maybe in a few days. Tonight, I'm just doing a sandwich. Turkey if that's fine with you."
"Of course. I haven't had any of that in a while." She had nicer hands than I had noticed before. Nice feet too. I don't have x-ray vision, but I'm sure those feet would have been the first thing I noticed if I had it. And if she wasn't required to wear shoes while working too. "So, what's your name? I never bothered to get it."
"Sharon. I always thought it was a nice name. I saw your tag and badge, Chief Strong, but didn't want to go through your wallet just to get your first."
"Just call me Strong. I'm too used to it now. It's the only name I hear at work, at home and even my mom has begun calling me by that."
"Ok, sure. Whatever goes for you. Eat up, Strong." She looked over to the baker, who was working on some pastry. I always looked at them as procrastinators. "So, y'all gonna eat or are you too busy now?"
"I'll eat later."
"Wow, this is great," I said honestly. "Thanks for the sandwich. I haven't eaten anything worth noting in a while. I wasn't even able to get much out of that last pizza I got."
"Thanks a lot," she said, a bit flattered. She looked down at her sandwich, blushing. It was the first time I saw her without that huge smile on her face, but it returned quickly. "I didn't think it would be anything special. Just a typical turkey sandwich, but maybe I should make these more often."
"You really should. If I were able to make these, it would be something I'd do at least weekly. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to go with pizza for an entire week. I probably wouldn't even be able to do it twice in a row."
"You know what?" She did rhetorical questions better than anyone back at the station. They're just too straightforward. "There was this guy at the drug store a few days ago that said almost the same exact thing. He had a mushroom pizza with extra cheese that day so I recognized the voice. He was with this other guy. The other guy didn't say much, though. He didn't even say what he wanted. I don't know if the other guy said anything at all. Well, the mushroom guy said that he didn't know much about this whole zombie thing. He said something like 'all I know is that these zombies see each other as equals. There is no leader. There are some that take action more, but the slackers when it comes to brain eating seem to be treated equally.' He had an interesting idea, but I'm not so sure anymore. I was working overtime, but I heard about the tent thing." She took a sip of her drink, then looked right at me with those beautiful brown eyes of hers. It's weird. I always looked at brown eyes as boring and plain, but there was something different here. "So, what do you think about all of this?"
"I don't know. I've heard so much I don't know what to believe at this point. But I guess that could be the case. I've heard nothing that goes against it." I took a quick look outside. It was dark, but not pitch black. Probably two thirds through the transition to dark. "Wow, it's pretty early for sunset. Any idea what day it is?"
"Of course. It's the twentieth. Time goes by quickly, doesn't it?"
"Too quickly. I could have sworn the last day I saw before I got here was the tenth. How many concussions have you ever had, Sharon?"
"None, of course! Working in a pizza place isn't very dangerous unless you're sticking your hand in the oven out of boredom."
"That's two less than I've had this past month, so your memory is probably a bit sharper than mine. That and you've got youth on your side."
"I'm sure you're not that much older than I am."
"Sure you are. I'd estimate you at 24."
"Wow, you're good. Exactly 24. Now, let me guess your age." She got up close and took a good look at my moustache. "My aunt has this trick where she can guess anyone's age - man or woman - just by looking at their facial hair." She let out some weird noise of frustration and sat back down. "Yours is just too perfect. I've never really studied facial hair and you don't have any of those things I remember that my aunt went by. What about your tie?" I looked down at it, surprised it was still in decent condition. "Undo your tie then re-do it. I've worked with all kinds of people. Maybe their tying has something to do with the age." I slowly undid my tie due to the firmness and tried to tie it as closely as I normally do. "Ok, that's great. I'm not too sure about this one, but 38?"
"33. Maybe I made myself sound a bit older than I really am, but that police work can make you feel like a geezer after having it piled on most of your life."
"Well, I'm sure police work isn't all that bad. You get to help people and you make a difference. And you get free sandwiches too!" She giggled, took our empty plates and put them in the kitchen sink.
"Yeah, I guess it's not all that bad. But there are times like this where you really get a lot taken out of you."
"Well, I'm sure all your work won't be wasted. Well, I have to prove that this space I'm taking up won't be wasted," she said in reference to her dish-washing duties. "You should get some sleep." I followed her suggestion and fell asleep as easily as a pro wrestler with 7 midgets hanging off his neck.