Please Stand By
It all started when the planes collided over the city. It was all over the news, the two jetliners crashing into a hailstorm of burning metal, sending streamers of charred remains through air like meteorites. I didn't think about it much at the time, really how often does something like this happen anywhere. The cleanup would take weeks and sifting through the rubble for survivors would take even longer. The cause was never determined though, the black box's final messages were even more cryptic to boot. Garbled screams and a sick wet sound that even the tech's couldn't identify just moments before the planes rammed into each other.
And the big wigs were loving it. I was just a man on the floor, directing the camera men and the anchors in those faithful days before Hell decided to come knocking on our door. All I heard was how the ratings were going through the roof, and that we had to keep the story going. Rather I was kind of sick watching how the street crews went out interviewing the victims families for the sake of the news. Lawsuits and class action what-you-ma-call-its were already rolling during our commercial breaks.
The news would change, another war, another market crash, another suicide. It was all blurring together like the days passing by outside the studio. Nevertheless, I was there making sure our anchors looked their best for the stories. Especially that new girl, what's her name, Sheila? I don't remember. She was a fine little fox, long flowing hair and a set a boobs that made a man melt in her hands huddled up in a low V-neck collar.
Her makeup was immaculate, perfectly tuned to her fine features to an exact science. In the coming days it wouldn't be, but for now I was drinking her in. Her blue eyes glittered beneath the stage lights, her tail swishing about as she spoke when it was a happy story and pulling off the mother of all sad faces for the tragedy that started the wheels of fate rolling.
The guy next to her was Dan something-or-other, some hot shit anchor from a small town. Not much about this guy, except that he should be on a commercial rather than in an anchor chair. Every time he smiled his teeth seemed to glare from how white they were. We used to joke in the break room that they were dentures and not his real teeth. They wouldn't be anymore in the coming days, but for now he was on top of the world and ultimately on Sheila as well. Rumor had it that the eye candy of the studio was busy passing some oral exams in the parking lot with our new anchorman, I didn't care. I still wanted to fuck Sheila, maybe between those massive tits of hers. Many nights I've dreamt of just looking down and seeing her use them. Is this ok baby, she would say in her award-winning voice. Yes, that's right, all the way, I'd say when it came time to let her have it.
Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to. She was too good for the likes of us peons to even notice when she was sitting bitching about her coffee being too hot. The call came in the headset and I relayed the info back to the camera operators, the screen changing in front of me as the news story switched back and forth between the anchors on the broadcast. Nothing special today. Twelve car pile up on the East Pine Expressway and no known cause for the disaster. An update on the plane tragedy, something strange about some whistleblower reporting the bodies had disappeared from the morgue during the investigation. Then it was back to a double suicide over in Canton.
I didn't really think much about it, like I had said. The news was news and nothing more. All could think about was Sheila and the way her boobs rose and fell in her shirt as she spoke. Her face was plastered on the screen, my eyes plastered to her lips moving on her muzzle as she spoke, imaging what they could-
"Barnes!"
I jumped out of my skin and turned, half expecting my boss to be right behind me. It was Jimmy, some young intern lost and panicked to hell about what he was supposed to be doing.
" Are you Barnes?" he said looking a fright.
"That's me," I said, " what's up?"
" Mr. Vickers said to give this to Sheila, it's hot off the wire." he said.
If he had mumbled any faster he would have tripped over his own tongue.
" Alright," I said grabbing the page, " I'll get it to her."
We cleared the air, going to another commercial as tech's and makeup artists jumped into action like NASCAR mechanics.
" Hot off the wire, Vickers needs you to read this right away." I said handing to her.
She barely even looked at me when she snidely pulled it from my hands and glanced it over.
" Alright." she said jumping as one of the girls tending to her yanked her hair, " watch it bitch, this hair cost more than your life."
" Sorry," Alice, a young doe girl, said.
" Damn right you'd better be sorry, if I had my way I'd replace your sorry ass in a heartbeat."
God I was on fire, I loved it when she was forceful.
" What the hell are you staring at? Get over there and make me look good reading this crap." she said glaring at me from the corner of her eye.
" Sure thing," I said hurrying back as the we came back on the air.
That was the last time I spoke with her normally, in the coming days she would have other rushing her news reports. Me, I would be the one running the camera's until the end. So it came to be, Hell rose up and spilled over, though it wasn't all at once. That's the thing about hell, it's never fast but like a cold syrup it creeps up on slowly. It started with sporadic reports of violence all over the country, slowly the world feeds began to report similar things. People fighting and reports of people being bitten were surfacing. In fact, it didn't really hit home until the evening coverage of the football game turned riot. Several fans were attacked in the stands by maniacs who were hell bent on killing them. In all seven deaths were reported after the killers fatally wounded several people and were shot to death by police. Numerous injuries resulted from the sudden stampede of people exiting the stadium.
Within hours, more reports came in off the wire from similar attacks happening at the river walk downtown. Mr. Vickers came down that first night, saying we had to stay as the violence began to escalate. I volunteered to stay since I was already working a late shift for a camera operator who out sick that day. I crammed a cigarette into my maw and steadied the camera, watching Sheila through the monitor. Her face hid the panic well, especially when the road crew went out the river walk to cover the violence and wound up torn to shreds in minutes by the rioters. The police barricade had fallen in the background and they were running, the reporter screaming as the cameraman followed hot on her trial. He was screaming at the reporter to stop as they fled into ill-lit alleyway, the light on the camera dancing over every trash littered inch. The reporter was ten feet ahead when he was tackled at the mouth of the alley by a group of people, their hands descending like cascade of bloodied flesh and cloth. They huddled over him as the screaming escalated to piercing heights, the camera turning away as blood began to pool at their feet. The cameraman turned to flee when angry, bloodied face lunged at screen and toppled to the floor. All we could hear was his screams for ten minutes feet marched into view, the people growling fiercely like animals to a kill. The camera moved briefly as if kicked, showing them biting and holding onto his flailing arms just before the feed cut.
The horror on Sheila's face as priceless, but as soon as the red light on my camera came on she turned and stone faced delivered a vacuous comment, " It seems we lost the feed."
The night became a week it seemed, now the lounge was packed with cots and supplies that people brought from home. You could catch people sleeping back there as we were now running on 24 hour shifts, no time for friends or family. Not that it mattered since the violence was already in the streets outside. Between the muffled screams and the gunshots, we could hear the military helicopters rumbling overhead to the rescue stations. Martial law had been cleared less than a day ago when all hell broke loose and the riots began. Half the city was in flames and the emergency crews had all but abandoned their posts. I could see it from the rooftop, the suburbs were a heavy black cloud billowing in the distance. A blue-green sparkle of power transformer exploding dazzled my eyes a bit as I looked over the edge see the nearly empty street below me. The station was in the heart of the city, somewhere in the uptown shopping district that was now a ghost town instead of bustling metropolis. Every now and again a looter would smash the glass store front below and take off running with something. Soldiers posted at the entrance to the station parking lot would aim their rifles and short spats of gunfire would erupt if they got too close.
Last night it was hell. We had a lot people trying to storm the barricade to the TV station and the entire military brigade dispersed them with a deadly hail of full auto fire. I had never heard a machine gun in real life before, but my ears were ringing inside the studio when then let loose with that badass belt-fed .50 caliber. Sure enough today there wasn't a a soul in sight. Trash drifted between abandoned cars with hazard lights on, mine had been parked on the street across from the station now looked like a charred overturned chunk of Swiss cheese instead of a red Sedan. For now soldiers were raiding the nearby deli and grocery store for supplies to keep us on the air, thankfully they were getting the good stuff. I loved that deli, they made the best sandwiches in the city. Now we have the entire salad bar just off the right of the set.
I flicked the half lit butt over the edge, watching some storm clouds rolling in from the west where they had been building all along. I was back behind the camera, both our anchors looking a frightful mess. Neither had slept since the emergency began and their stylists split town the night everything began to get really bad. Their clothes would soon be dirty and unkempt, but they kept on reporting as our crew began to vanish. Almost two weeks after the initial attacks had begun, the power and water went out. Thankfully our backup generators kicked in, the soldiers bringing in emergency water rations and fuel in barrels to keep us going. I kept on, wondering how Sheila even showered with the lack over water pressure here. For a moment I had a sexy thought of her splashing herself with a bucket warmed on a Sterno burner.
Care to join me, she would say leering over one shoulder. I actually began to smile for once, even if it was for a little bit. I barely slept myself and barely ate, my supply of cigarette's running low as I blew through the whole pack. I wasn't much of a smoker in the beginning, but now I was dying for more them. The thunder rumbled and roared as we switched over to regular broadcasts over a scheduled time, reporting whatever came in on the wire since the rescue stations in our area were now defunct. I could hear them through the wall of the lounge, Sheila and that guy Dan were next door having at it. All I could think about right now as her, trying to imagine myself with her instead of that guy. I think that was the only thing that kept me there was a mad obsession with her.
I lost track of time then, as our twenty man crew suddenly became seven. The others had fled along with the soldiers as the news coming in on the wire was becoming sporadic and more and more dreadful. I didn't care. For all I knew the world outside these four walls was dead already. All the news was now as scientific nonsense, something about bites and transmission of a potential disease. Nothing interesting. All I knew is when an old flame of mine back in high school bit me I wound having a tetanus shot.
Now they were looking ragged, their hair was unkempt and the suits they were since the beginning were now stained with food and God knows what. They kept on reporting and I kept on watching with my big glass eye, even if it wasn't much left to say. Today was a different day, a timeless one as I sat basking in the sun on the roof. The eerie silence of the city huddled around me like a blanket. The fires had gone out a while back thanks to the downpours, but everything was now too quiet like a cemetery with headstones made of glass and concrete to mark an existence to someone or something that no longer was relevant. I glanced at my watch, which surprisingly was the only other thing work, and noticed it was close to 2pm. Time to broadcast.
They were in their regular spots as usual, nothing changed except them. Sheila was in the middle of the report when her face suddenly changed.
" Reports indicate that their numbers are increasing substantially, and that all citizens to should report to local rescu-", she paused a moment, " Oh what's the point?"
" Sheila," Dan said trying to maintain a proper composure.
" What's the point? I mean, there is no point," she said a look of exasperation on her face, " We're all that's left. What's the point."
" Sheila, I think you should calm down,"
" NO! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN. THERE IS NO POINT! THERE IS NO ONE LEFT ALIVE OUT THERE TO FUCKING WATCH THIS!" she screamed throwing her empty mug at Dan.
The ceramic crashed with a bright glasslike snap as the shards streaked across the floor. I smiled bemused by her outrageous antics as she stormed off the set over to my camera. Well only my camera, the other crew had left.
" There is no point," she said grabbing the teleprompter hood and shoving her face into the lens, " there is no point. You keep shooting them and they won't go down! You burn them, they will keep coming after you! You shoot them in the head and they stay down! But no, you dumb asses insist on doing nothing! Now look at what you've done! You've killed us! You've killed us all!"
The others rushed into pull her from the camera, I managed a steady watch as they tried to calm her down. She was trying to blink back her tears, but failed miserably. Had Vickers not shot himself in his office he would be screaming about the ratings hitting the roof right now, maybe even an award for the station. She fought free of the crew and straightened her clothes.
" That's it," she said ripping away her lapel mike, " I'm through. I'm leaving. Dan? Care to see a lady out to her car?"
" Sure thing," he said, " I'm going to get it warmed up right now. Meet me downstairs in five."
" Thank you," she said, " I have to clear out my desk."
" Barnes," the engineer said, " Cut it man, we're going off the air. Our responsibility is finished."
" Sure. I'll meet you guys downstairs." I said, watching as Sheila left for the lounge.
Now was the time to make my move. Everyone left the equipment running not that it would matter now as it was their lives they were going to escape with, now it was only me and Sheila in the building. I crept in after her, watching as she dug through the kitchen for something to protect herself with. She slammed the drawers forcefully, tossing things aside as I drew closer. She turned quickly a vehement look on her face.
" What the hell do you want?" she spat.
" To make you feel good," was going to be my response, but the words were frozen beyond my lips. So like a bump on a log I stood there trying to muster what I had to speak to her.
" I don't suppose you know where any of the knives are in this place?" she said throwing her hands up and digging through the cupboards.
She bent down, the glorious curves of her ass moving through her skirt, tempting me and toying with me. I felt blood rushing to my loins at the thought of running my hands over them and holding her hips. I could almost see it now in my mind, her giving in to the feel of my touch as I took her from behind. I could almost feel those glorious breasts of hers in my hands as I hefted them toward her in a lover's embrace. I didn't realize that I had closed the distance between us, or that I was pressed up against her rump with my hands poised on her hips-
-she stood up bolt right and turned quickly.
CRASH!
I felt something explode on the side of my head and I was down on the floor, something hot pouring down my face. I felt the fury of her high heel in my groin as she dropped the handle for the coffee pot next to me.
" You wretched pervert. You think I'm going to give it up to you. The nerve of some people." she roared, storming out of the lounge for the entrance.
My inner thigh spasmed from where she landed the hit, thankfully just to the left of the old family jewels. I managed to get back to my feet and hurry after her as she fled into the cubicles. She ran as fast as she could, all I wanted to do was pounce on her.
" NO! HELP! SOMEBODY!" she screamed running for the elevators.
" Stop!" I cried breathlessly, " I won't hurt you!"
" SOMEONE! PLEASE!" she screamed slamming the call button as I closed in.
The elevator doors sprung open and she jumped inside as they slammed shut in front of me.
" PLEASE!" I roared pounding the metal, " DON'T GO! NO ONE CAN LOVE YOU LIKE I CAN!"
By then the car was already on floor down.
A feeling of defeat washed over me as I leaned up against the doors. It was then I noticed the light to the freight elevator was still on. There was still a glimmer of hope for me. I jumped into car without a moment to lose and hit the bottom floor. All could think about now was stopping her before she could leave me behind though the elevator seemed to drag on into eternity to the ground floor. The doors dinged open to a dim hallway, the crisscross grid work of the security fence on the end window splashed across the wall like a shadowy spider web. I stepped out and headed left down the corridor to the security podium where a guard sat watching the keys for the parking lot.
The elderly wolf man was face down dead, his head probably caved in under his hat probably with his missing baton judging by the mess they had left behind. The bloodied footprints led to the door which opened up to the parking lot. It was Sheila. I ran to the window and peered outside. The chain link fence was flattened as if the soldiers had rode out of the station on a tank, dozens of injured folks were stumbling into the lot while a few others were huddled over something in the street outside. I saw our engineer fleeing into an alley, several of them lumbering after him, though a few others had barely made it when they were overcome. Dan What's-his-face was splayed out on the hood of his new sports car fighting them off, but to my morbid pleasure they won the battle and his screams filled the parking lot. I spotted a shadowy figure racing up the steps to the door and I jumped back from the window as it fumbled the knob.
The door hissed open on it's pneumatic arm, flinging wide enough to see the people stumbling into the lot had already followed her up the steps. Sheila stumbled in clutching a gushing wound on her face, her famous face, the one that she showed to the world and now revealed the frightened being inside. She spotted me with the gun, her bloodied hand reaching out as the things outside gathered behind her.
"B-Barnes," she choked out, " help me."
In the moment I lifted the gun, on thought crossed my mind as from the report about bites and possible infections. It was so random in that split second before I pulled the trigger: Were her tits as soft or firm as they looked. There was a deafening bang as her head snapped back, her limp body falling into the hands of the people as if they had been waiting for it. The door hissed shut on the horrific scene as the they began clawing at the door, one pressing it's face absently to the glass and rubbing it. It's eyes were alight with a dismal look of hunger, nothing really lively about them except they were glassy and lifeless compared to the animate body they attached too. I slowly walked away to elevators, listening to them try as hard as they could and praying the elevator shut as soon as they found their way in.
The glass eye stared ahead as I rolled out the salad bar and all the other props, watching myself on the monitors as I prepared to go on air. I slicked by my hair as best as I could and fixed my ratty tie, then put on a smile as best I could.
" Welcome to the Nolan Barnes, Power Hour. I'm your host Nolan Barnes, here to teach you the viewer, how to make my famous sandwich."
I dazzled my lone captive audience with my kitchen wizardry, knowing that maybe somewhere someone was watching the broadcast. At last I had my meal ready and I left for the hallway briefly for the finishing touches. I reached inside the broken window of the vending machine and pulled out the last bag of chips and grabbed cold soda from the vending machine, listening to them scrabble up the emergency stairs in the corner. I finished my amazing meal with the last pickle in the fridge, then sat down in Sheila's chair to crack open the soft drink.
" Before I go, I'd like to thank all the folks that made it possible to be here and all the little folks I stepped to make it to the top." I said hearing a door open somewhere as I lifted the can as if to salute the camera, " This is Nolan Barnes, wishing you and yours a happy Apocalypse."
I took a drink, feeling the acidic bite of the cold soda as it slipped past my lips then savored a bite of my sandwich. The chips were remarkably fresh and the pickle was just the icing on the cake, when I noticed something moving in black glass of the teleprompter. I leaned forward a bit to better make out the reflection as shifted behind my own. For a moment it looked like Alice, though the bloodstained clothing made it hard to tell. I gulped down my last and only bite, quickly drinking from the can as the soft pat of feet on the carpet drew closer. I managed to fumble the last cigarette into my mouth, one I managed to trade one of the soldiers for, and calmly reached for my lighter. In that moment, Alice grabbed my hair and her teeth sunk into my neck.
END.