[blog like it's the end of the world]
I'm upstairs, and so far all I've found in the way of servicable weapons is a Sobe Grape Grog bottle. Another failure in my spectacularly long list of failures. There's a stairwell on either side of this floor... I took the two oldest boys and posted each at a stairwell while I prowled around in the darkness between the two.
I just got the scare of my life. .. Well, that's not true. Not THE scare of my life, but an extremely high-ranking scare (I mean really, how many times have I almost died today?).
I was shuffling around in the cube farm, can't see a goddamned thing, too scared to turn on my flashlight, and I tripped... *literally tripped* over my coworker, Steve. He's one of the IT guys.
I've always thought he looked something like a zombie, to begin with. Pale. Googly eyes. Fixed rictus grin. There's just something "helter skelter" about him. But you know what, compared to the fuckers prowling around outside the building, he's NORMAL. And he's not bitten. He's fine. (I didn't know this yet.)
I screamed. I screamed my fucking lungs out. I thought I was a goner. (again! I'm sure that if the zombies don't kill me, a cardiac event will.) I stabbed him in the neck with the juice bottle. And before I could even gather my thoughts, my two boys -- my angels (Devon and Iman) came to my rescue. They start kicking him. Iman hits him with a desk chair.
I suppose Steve's lucky I'm an idiot. You know that Sobe Grape Grog bottle? Not broken, like a proper bottle should be if one intends to use it defensively. I basically just whapped him in the adam's apple with it. Made him gag. Go team me, huh.
Well, I just startled him, but my boys .. I'm pretty sure Iman's chair stunt broke one of Steve's ribs. He feels horrible. And now I'm stuck --- I don't know if he'll be helpful, or be a liability. He has weapons, though. Big butane torches.
This is an ethical problem, now. Iman wants to kill him, take his weapons and take his car keys. Devon looks like he's going to puke. I can't let an 8th grader bear that kind of emotional burden. But I also can't let Steve slow us down if we have to evacuate.
From my vantage point here on the 4th floor, I can see the Office Depot delivery truck. I've been eyeing it, and I don't think there's anyone in it. Things are quieter now. I'm sure everyone in the main building is dead, and I bet the delivery guy is too.
I refuse to die in a crawlspace. Its undignified. And cowardly. I'm tired of skulking around in the dark. I'm tired of being scared. I suppose this is the part in the movie where the heroine gets fucking sick of being kicked around, and does some kicking of her own. I realize, now, that my fear is making my group of children afraid.
Wherever we go, we're going as a group. I am going to go get the keys to that truck, and we are getting out of here. Perhaps with office supplies. (I... I believe you have my stapler?)
My torch is loaded, and I have a welder's mask on. I'm so muddied and bloodied I could probably pass for a zombie, myself.
Vaya con carne asada, bitches.
(I think I'm going to throw up.)
I just got the scare of my life. .. Well, that's not true. Not THE scare of my life, but an extremely high-ranking scare (I mean really, how many times have I almost died today?).
I was shuffling around in the cube farm, can't see a goddamned thing, too scared to turn on my flashlight, and I tripped... *literally tripped* over my coworker, Steve. He's one of the IT guys.
I've always thought he looked something like a zombie, to begin with. Pale. Googly eyes. Fixed rictus grin. There's just something "helter skelter" about him. But you know what, compared to the fuckers prowling around outside the building, he's NORMAL. And he's not bitten. He's fine. (I didn't know this yet.)
I screamed. I screamed my fucking lungs out. I thought I was a goner. (again! I'm sure that if the zombies don't kill me, a cardiac event will.) I stabbed him in the neck with the juice bottle. And before I could even gather my thoughts, my two boys -- my angels (Devon and Iman) came to my rescue. They start kicking him. Iman hits him with a desk chair.
I suppose Steve's lucky I'm an idiot. You know that Sobe Grape Grog bottle? Not broken, like a proper bottle should be if one intends to use it defensively. I basically just whapped him in the adam's apple with it. Made him gag. Go team me, huh.
Well, I just startled him, but my boys .. I'm pretty sure Iman's chair stunt broke one of Steve's ribs. He feels horrible. And now I'm stuck --- I don't know if he'll be helpful, or be a liability. He has weapons, though. Big butane torches.
This is an ethical problem, now. Iman wants to kill him, take his weapons and take his car keys. Devon looks like he's going to puke. I can't let an 8th grader bear that kind of emotional burden. But I also can't let Steve slow us down if we have to evacuate.
From my vantage point here on the 4th floor, I can see the Office Depot delivery truck. I've been eyeing it, and I don't think there's anyone in it. Things are quieter now. I'm sure everyone in the main building is dead, and I bet the delivery guy is too.
I refuse to die in a crawlspace. Its undignified. And cowardly. I'm tired of skulking around in the dark. I'm tired of being scared. I suppose this is the part in the movie where the heroine gets fucking sick of being kicked around, and does some kicking of her own. I realize, now, that my fear is making my group of children afraid.
Wherever we go, we're going as a group. I am going to go get the keys to that truck, and we are getting out of here. Perhaps with office supplies. (I... I believe you have my stapler?)
My torch is loaded, and I have a welder's mask on. I'm so muddied and bloodied I could probably pass for a zombie, myself.
Vaya con carne asada, bitches.
(I think I'm going to throw up.)