Zombie Tales: Primrose Court Apt. 205 (5 page)

“Hey Colby, you got any toilet paper over
there?”

There was a few seconds of silence before I
heard him go to work on the dispenser next to him. He seemed to be
struggling and I felt guilty for a moment. It was hard enough
trying to get more than a few squares from the dispenser without it
breaking, let alone enough to do a thorough job. Luckily, Colby was
a like minded man and when he handed me the paper it was a wad big
enough to stuff a pillow.

I don't know why businesses insisted on using
the cheapest single ply bathroom tissue possible, it's not like
anybody is going to think,
well, I only use about ten squares of
the good stuff at home so I'll do the same here
. Fuck that, you
use more than enough to get the job done, after all, you ain't
paying for it, right?

I took the huge wad of paper Colby was
offering up from under our dividing wall. I quickly pulled off the
pieces soaked in his blood and let them fall to the floor.

“Thanks,” I mumbled uncomfortably as I did my
wiping, grateful that my newspaper and toilet seat cover were now
safe from the abuse.

There was another -
thump
-
thump
-
on Colby's stall door.

“Fuck off, man,” Colby yelled, then, “Help,
somebody help!”

He was starting to sound a little
hysterical.

“What gives, Colby?” I asked as I fastened
the button on my slacks and buckled my belt, “Did that guy really
bite you?” I didn't know Colby swore so much, but he didn't sound
like he was practiced at it, so I guess it was the situation.

“Yeah, he fuckin' bit me,” Colby's voice
echoed in the tiled confines of the restroom, “Sweaty bastard sunk
his teeth right into my arm.”

“Why?” I asked.

Now
that seems like a dumb question,
but back
then
, it was the only sane one; people don't just
go around biting strangers in the john.

“What do you mean, why? I don't fucking know
why. He just bit me,” Colby sounded like he was close to tears.
“Fuckin' punk kid named Mathew. I just cut him a check ten minutes
ago.”

“He works here?” I asked a bit surprised.

“No he doesn't work here. The little shit
participated in a one day drug trial down in the labs.”

Colby was calming down a little now, but I
could tell he was still clenching his teeth in pain.

“When the drug trials are over the
researchers send the test subjects up here to accounts payable and
we cut them a check. That little bastard out there's name is Mathew
Stubs.”

I climbed up on the edge of my toilet and
looked over the wall separating us. Colby was sitting on the toilet
holding his injured arm. Blood was flowing freely down his wrist
and pooled on the floor beneath his hand. I watched as the blood
crept along the grout between the tiles on the floor, wondering how
good of a job the janitor would do in cleaning.

“That's a pretty bad wound, you better watch
out that it doesn't get infected, especially in a place like this,”
I offered in the way of advice.

He looked up at me shaking his head.

“Help!” he called out again.

I tried to look over the wall at the man
standing in front of Colby's door, but it was too far for me to
see.

“Do you think he's crazy?” I asked Colby.

“How the fuck should I know,” Colby
responded.

I tried again to get a look at Colby's
attacker.

“Maybe he has rabies or something,” I
said.

“Look, Don, none of this is helping, why
don't you hop down off that toilet and go get security?”

“Fuck that,” I said. I didn't have the knack
for swearing either, having a six-year-old will do that to you.

“Help us!” We both yelled. We waited in
silence hoping our combined voices would attract someone's
attention.

“Hey, Colby, do you got your cell phone on
you?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

He didn't answer, but I could tell he was
fumbling around in his pocket. I heard him pushing buttons and then
he sighed, finally saying, “No signal.”

I looked at my watch 1:28, my screensaver
would be displayed in all its glory by now. A sure sign that I
should be replaced by a young go-getter for less money. I shook my
head in frustration. Whatever Colby had done to piss this guy off
didn't involve me.

“Hey, Mathew,” I said to the man outside
Colby's door, “I'd go get some help if I was you. You hurt Colby
really bad and he could press charges for assault.”

“Fuckin' right I'm going to press charges,”
Colby shouted, “Fuckin' bit a chunk right out of my arm.” I could
see over the wall that Colby was getting pale and sweaty.

I stepped back down off the toilet and tried
to find a comfortable way to sit on the edge of the seat to wait
for rescue. Several minutes passed with the only sounds being
Colby's heavy breathing and Mathew’s occasional –
thump
- on
his stall door.

“What's he doing?” Colby asked me after a few
moments of silence had passed.

“I don't know. I can't see him,” I told
Colby.

“Well, I think he's sick or something. He
looked pale and sweaty to me. You should climb up on the divider
and have a look.”

“What am I Spiderman? You climb up and have a
look.”

“Don, don't be a pussy. I'm bleeding like a
stuck pig here, just hoist yourself up onto the divider and look
over my door, see what that bastard is doing.”

-
thump
-
thump
-

“Fuck you, asshole! Why don't you just go
away?” Colby yelled frantically at Mathew.

Colby was a nervous wreck now. I couldn't
imagine what he was going through. The last fight I had been in was
in the fourth grade, I lost that one, but she didn’t even draw
blood.

I sat there zoning out on the wall that
separated us, doing the multiplication table in my head, and
wracking my brain. There had to be some way out of this. I mean
Marcy was what... thirty feet down the hall. My desk was another
fifty feet beyond that. It was business as usual out there and here
we were trapped in the restroom by some rabid skater kid.

“Don, get your ass up there and tell me what
he's doing,” Colby cried, then calmer, “Look the kid is like five
foot nothing, he won't be able to reach you, just peek over.”

“Fine I'll have a look,” I said, more to calm
him down than anything. I glanced at my watch, 2:09.

Now I wasn't the most athletic guy in the
world. Like most thirty-something Americans, I was about twenty
pounds heavier than I should have been and I hadn't used my gym
membership in more than a few months. I paid for a full year in
January, but life had interrupted my new year's resolution before
Valentine’s Day rolled around.

Still, it shouldn't have been so hard for me
to spring up onto the edge of the divider and balance myself there
while I shifted into a good vantage point above Colby's door. The
alloy frame of the divider was digging into my knees and I tried to
roll my left leg to disperse my weight as I inched into position
over the scene below.

I was finally able to catch a glimpse of my
first zombie; of course, at the time, it was just the guy who’d had
a beef with Colby. I know what you’re probably thinking, how could
you not know it was a zombie. Well let me tell you, when they are
that fresh, they look like everyone else. This guy was a little
thin and maybe a little bit pale, but other than that, he looked
much like any average Joe on the street, except he had blood on his
mouth from biting Colby.

“He's just standing there,” I said down to
Colby. The guy tried to walk forward thumping his face against the
stall door a few times, “he definitely ain't all there, that's for
sure.”

When I got no response from Colby, I looked
down at him. He appeared to have passed out. I backed up and slid
my body down the divider into my stall again. I sat there on the
edge of the toilet seat huffing and puffing. I really needed to get
into shape. After several more minutes had passed, I had caught my
breath and I noticed Colby wasn't breathing hard anymore.

“Hey, Colby?” I asked into the silence.

Mathew thumping the door a few more times was
the only response. He had moved back to bang his face against my
stall again. I could see the tips of his shoes from where I
sat.

I briefly weighed the idea of lying down on
the floor and trying to slide under the alloy walls of the stalls
to the area by the urinals. If I was quiet, I might be able to get
out of the restroom without Mathew even knowing I was gone. There
was about a foot of empty space under the walls and I didn't think
I could manage it. I'm not a fat guy, but squeezing under there
would be tight. Plus, Colby had bled all over the floor in his unit
and I wasn't keen on the thought of squirming through that
puddle.

I then pictured myself wedged under that wall
with Colby bleeding to death on the toilet above me when help
finally came. I could just picture the rest of the office holding
back their laughter as the fire department dismantled the aluminum
alloy wall pinning me to the tile floor.

I figured since I had already been climbing
around the restroom like it was my own personal jungle gym, I would
make my way across the top of the stalls and then lower myself down
to the floor. I hoped this weirdo only had a thing for Colby and if
I just stayed out of it, I'd be all right.

I pulled myself back up on the wall, taking a
moment to look down at Colby. He was sprawled, back against the
chrome pipes behind the toilet. The thin hair on his head was
matted with sweat and his face was pale. His bloody arm was rolled
palm up and suspended between his knees. Streaks of blood ran from
the angry wound on his forearm down to his wrist where it dripped
into the large puddle at his feet. There was a lot of blood.

I felt like an idiot shifting around on top
of the stalls just inches from the ceiling. If someone had walked
in at that moment, I would have been hard pressed to explain
myself. Slowly, I crossed the stall Colby occupied, moving from our
adjoining wall across his door to the next wall over. I pushed the
door of the last stall shut so I could use it to cross to the last
wall, but also to keep Mathew Stubs out.

As I got my knees on Colby's other wall I
felt his hands grip my right leg. I flipped my left leg over the
divider and yelled as my crotch was planted firmly on the one inch
wide partition. Slipping sideways, I lunged and caught the last
wall with my left hand, stopping my fall. I hung suspended above
the toilet, clinging to one wall and straddling the other. My
muscles strained, I wouldn't be able to hold myself up for much
longer.

“What the fuck, Colby,” I shouted, tugging at
my leg, trying to break his grasp. I felt pressure on the toe of my
dress shoe, “let go you asshole.”

The pressure increased as I curled my toes up
and yanked my leg out of his hands. I fell, a mass of flailing arms
and legs, landing hard on my back half on the toilet in the cramped
little space two stalls over from where I started. I had the wind
knocked out of me and could feel a giant Charlie horse just under
my left shoulder blade where I connected with the edge of the U
shaped seat of the porcelain toilet.

“You are a fucking asshole,” I yelled at
Colby's shoes, not more than two feet away from my face as I laid
on the floor in his blood, “That wasn't funny, you bastard.”

Colby didn't say anything. I could see from
where I laid on the floor that Mathew was on the move again. He was
shifting toward my new stall using that old man gate of his. I
scrambled up to my knees and slid the lock into place just as he
reached the door.

It took me several minutes to recover most of
my composure and some of my dignity as I twisted and turned, trying
to right myself in the close confines of the little cubicle. I took
a few moments to rest on the edge of the plastic seat. I cupped my
hand over my scrotum through my slacks, wondering if I had torn it
or if it just felt like it. I was missing my right shoe and
probably would have bruises all over from the way Colby had grabbed
me and from my fall.

“Give me my fucking shoe back, Colby,” I said
as I stepped up onto the toilet and looked over the divider, I was
pissed now. Sure, they were only Payless, dress shoes, buy one pair
get the second half off, but I felt like a dumbass sitting there
with only one.

Colby was standing in the next stall reaching
up at me with my shoe in his mouth.

“Quit fucking around,” I said, snatching at
my shoe, I had to jerk hard to break it free from his clenched
teeth, “Jesus Christ, Colby, how can you joke around at a time like
this? You could be fucking bleeding to death. I've got you're
fucking blood all over me now,” I added as I looked at the smears
all down my right leg. I was sure that his blood was all over my
back from lying on the floor, but I couldn't very well turn my head
around to see how bad my shirt was stained.

Sitting back down on my toilet, I untied my
shoe and put it back on. There were ragged teeth marks in the fake
leather, but it was better than not having it. I hadn't had time to
do my laundry over the weekend, so the thin, black socks I was
wearing were old and had a few holes in them.

I took a minute to rest after my ordeal. My
watch showed 2:46. Damn near two hours had passed and nobody had
come to rescue us. Hell, nobody had even come to use the john.

I climbed back up onto the edge of the toilet
seat. My legs were very shaky now from all the exertion. I leaned
close to look down into Colby's stall. There was something not
right. Colby had pulled some awful practical jokes around the
office over the years, but he was also kind of a clean freak, so
having my shoe in his mouth was more of a joke on him than me.