Mac brushed the dust from the impossibly high ceiling off his shoulder and resisted the urge to run for the questionable cover offered by the narrow, dull grey reception building built into the side of the cavern. “Sure, that will just put another layer on top of us when the whole secret lair collapses,” his rational side commented snidely. Physics and all that.

  The triangular, aiming site style HeHeHe logo etched into the glass door perfectly framed a woman sitting almost impossibly still. As he looked closer, Mac realized that either the woman was very small or the building in front of him continued much deeper into the side of the cavern.

  Taking a deep breath, Mac grabbed a suitcase in each hand and followed the group through the glass door into the mysterious reception building. The wide and spacious room beyond surprised him. It sported a high finished ceiling and rather pedestrian-looking walls that would be at home in any corporate office. The pictures of company leaders arranged on one wall had a few empty frames with missing names, most notably the company president. Were they in transition?

  Wistful paintings of fanciful depictions of nature and mythical dragons adorned any other space that threatened to get too lonely. When he turned to glance behind him, he found the phase “Be W.I.C.K.E.D.!” was emblazoned above the door in bright red neon letters.

  His eyes dropped back down to the aiming site on the glass door and he watched the van pull away. Too late, now.

  In the center rear of the room sat a fierce desk that dominated the rest of the room. It was easy to imagine it belonging to some potent king or queen of old, or perhaps it had been the other way around. The ancient mahogany carefully and dutifully oiled over the years was adorned with intricate and occasionally delicate scroll work of some forgotten master. No joint or binding could be easily discerned as if the whole thing had been carved from single piece.

  Mac could almost taste the pungent scent of power emanating from the formidable, and one might even venture to say, “semi-sentient,” arrangement of ancient wood. It was no wonder that no other furniture dared to venture inside the venerable desk’s audience chamber. Its sheer existence was an argument in the favor of magic, which like ghosts, only existed on children’s shows and in other works of fiction.

  Behind the desk sat a pale, blonde, woman of unknowable age, yet decidedly younger in a chair so plain the desk simply ignored it, or perhaps thought of it as some kind of pet. She looked up from whatever she had been working on and smiled unconvincingly, “Welcome, new hires, to Cave Inn. My name is Miss Hafliff, and I’ll be helping you throughout your in-processing.”

  There was something missing in her cheery voice that Mac couldn’t immediately put his finger on. “Please stay in line, and I’ll help you one at a time,” she instructed

  When had everyone gotten in line without him?

  When Mac and his son finally stepped up to the desk, he was able to observe Miss Hafliff in closer detail. Behind the rose scented perfume, he caught the unmistakable scent of old blood and understanding dawned on him. A quick look into her dead eyes confirmed it.

  Zombie.

  As young as the receptionist seemed, he doubted it had been the result of some misguided attempt to attain eternal life. Perhaps a simple misfortune such as a car accident had befallen her and she had other responsibilities left undone. That was probably it.

  “Actually, my ex-fiancé murdered me on the night of our wedding, I had insurance, and I wanted revenge,” Miss Hafliff stated in a deathly quiet but still cheery voice. “Thanks for asking.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “You were going to.”

  “But…”

  “Yes, there’s a whole lot more to the story, but handsome as you might be, I don’t have time right now to talk about my personal… life, right now.”

  Mac opened his mouth to speak, but Miss Hafliff cut him off, “This little guy must be Zach. Please fill out these for temporary enrollment into the Future Center,” she handed him two sheets of paper. “We will fill out the full forms later, when you have more time. I am afraid the next few days will be a bit of a blur, but the CEO insists we cover everything for our unassigned employees in event of an… eventuality. So please stay out of the lake until then.”

  Zach stepped up the desk and began to trace his fingers all along the elegant scroll work in all the rapt amazement of an impressed four-year-old. “So cool…” he whispered as he drew his fingers up and along one vertical ridge that slipped around the corner to the upper side of the self-satisfied desk.

  The little boy was forced up on tip toes to keep his finger on the line and caught sight of Miss Hafliff as he peeped over the edge. “Oh, she’s pretty,” Zach declared in with wide eyes and mouth agape. The zombie smiled what had to be a genuine smile and was forced to exert some visible effort to regain her previously impassive face.

  “Please follow Skylar to the employee housing complex after you’ve finished filling out these other forms,” the flustered zombie stated in a more clipped manner than even before. So, the expected driver was around here, after all, or maybe they had just named the drone like his time as an intern. He had liked Skip.

  Having conquered the two strongest entities for miles around, Zach sealed his unconscious victory waving a single small hand to the receptionist, “Bye, bye, pretty lady,” then followed his dad allowing his fingers to linger on the scroll work a moment longer. The desk might have shivered once as he departed.

  Mac shrugged off the relatively short stack of paper and carried it to the long counter at the back wall with the others. Mac was halfway through the stack when he realized the vampire was working next to him. He would have edged away, but Grist was on the other side, and Janessa was chatting happily with his son on the floor between them. Natalia was working quickly through her stack, but then, she didn’t have a dependent whose information needed to be added to almost every other sheet.

  Grist was rather naturally the last one to finish filling out his over-sized forms. And, if it hadn’t been for the almost cute vampire assisting him, they might have still been there the next morning. Mac checked his watch, he was a bit old-fashioned and was pleased to see they might make it to whatever passed for dinner around here.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Mac was somewhat disappointed when the rest of the group gathered up their bags and began flowing out the door. Apparently, Mr. O’Higgins had shown up, and Mac had missed him. Story of his life.

  He followed group outside and finally realized that the fancy stealth drone must be piloted by an elf named O’Higgins. That would explain the cue cards floating in the air ahead of them. The company must have quite advanced technology to waste such a sophisticated drone on a bunch of new-hires… or the pilot was a total shut-in.

  Mac was quite impressed when he entered his quarters. They were nicer than most of the hotels he had ever stayed at, aside from the company’s trademark gray pervading almost everything. He guessed that made sense and quickly unpacked. He carried his son on his shoulders out the door a few minutes later in search of the cafeteria. This was really going to work out.

  XXXXX

  Zach led his dad away from the zombies in the serving line, leaving him with more health and sanitation questions than were mentally healthy for someone who knew they would be eating in the same place for what could be months. At least they were wearing proper personal protection equipment (PPE). This meant that he was unlikely to find a piece of neatly sliced zombie finger in his Salisbury steak. Un-neatly broken off, however, was altogether possible. Best not to think about that and do a thorough check of the contents on his plate.

  Necromancers might even logically insist that “death magic” prevented further biological growth within the necrotized flesh. But could magic be trusted if it was even real, and it wasn’t. He was adamant about that.

  So, who knew what disease they might be carrying, or what happened to the pieces that just fell off. Yes, yes, there was the standard thermodynamic argument that due to the necromantic stasis principle keeping the subject in a continuous, energy conserving, living-impaired, quantum suspended state, the pieces that fell off simply rematerialized back on the zombie.

  There was also some extensive quantum mumbo-jumbo that some vampire physicist had published a few years back explaining in more detail about jumps in states of energy and observing the correct possibility, but it was written by a vampire. They simply couldn’t be trusted, even if there were multiple initials and dots in front of and after their name. All that to say, it was worth a minute or two to check his plate before he started eating.

  He had been so immersed in thought that he hadn’t even noticed he had sat down with his son at one of the larger group tables. The white table clothes and linen napkins were a rather nice touch that almost lulled him into not examining his food. What was not a nice touch was the almost cute vampire with dark, chin-length hair from the shuttle ride sitting on the other side of his son remarking pleasantly on the food.

  Mac resisted the basic urge to shoot a death glare at the other new-hire. It made sense she would want to sit next to other people she knew at least a little, but she was a vampire. Maybe it was just with the scent of their blood that she desired to “salt” the flavor of the questionable meal. You just never knew with vampires. When she realized he was finally looking she smiled at him revealing a long fang and said, “Good evening, Mac.”

  “Hi, Natalia,” he responded tersely after an awkward pause spent deciding if he should even respond to the superficially polite overture at all.

  “The Salisbury steak is pretty good,” the vampire motioned to her plate. "You might want to try it before it gets cold."

  Mac glanced back down at his plate. It didn’t look like the zombie had left him any accidental presents, so he tentatively took a bite. Not bad, not quite white-table-cloth good either, but he had let it get a bit cool while shifting around his vegetables and checking under the unassuming gravy.

  She smiled again and addressed Zach, “See, your dad likes it. You should try a piece.” Then, she reached over and neatly cut a piece on Zach’s plate for him. “Try it.”

  Mac about went into apoplectic shock as he realized a vampire had a sharp knife within inches of his son. If he hadn’t been in the middle of swallowing the chunk of nicely seasoned meat he might have shouted at her right there, but he was caught with the meat going one way and some harsh words going the other and together they created quite the unpleasant blockage.

  Mac pounded his chest with his fist to try and dislodge the stuck piece, but it wouldn’t budge. Coughing didn’t help either, he just didn’t have enough air inside to push it out. Speaking of oxygen, it was starting to get a bit sparse in his lungs.

  Mac started to hunch over a bit in a vain attempt to give his diaphragm a bit of needed assistance, but the chunk of steak had gotten quite comfortable and just wouldn’t budge.

  This wasn’t good. Had he finally found a way to support Zach and make a good living only to die at his first meal in the company cafeteria after being served by a disease-ridden zombie? Death was out to get him, always had been.

  Mac might have escaped its pale clutches more times than was fair in the past, but now it had finally come for him. He could almost see the dark robed figure sitting expectantly across the table from him. Small fingers drummed the table impatiently beneath a dark hood hiding the expectant grin he was confident lurked in the darkness.

  It seemed rather unfair to Mac, that having survived falling from multiple heights, several poisonous snake bites, and multiple large blasts that a small chunk of Salisbury steak should do him in. That just wasn’t right. The world started to go dark around him as he slumped forward to the side of his plate.

  So… not… fair.

  There was an abrupt and rather brutal thump on Mac’s back resulting in the jettisoning of the malevolent chunk of meat. The sweet air rushed in behind it, and light returned to Mac’s eyes as he blinked them open.

  Grist reached down and grabbed the dislodged chunk of meat lying on the now stained tablecloth between two fingers. He popped it in his mouth then asked, “You good, Mac?”

  Mac nodded graciously to the troll, “Thanks, Grist.”

  “Almost got you that time,” said the strangely feminine voice from across the table.

  “What!?” Mac jerked his head back around to see Janessa sitting in a grey robe with her hood down. She was sprinkling some seasoning on her own Salisbury steak.

  “I said I almost forgot the thyme,” the cute, young trollip replied sweetly. “It just tastes better with it.”

  “I eat there,” Grist pointed to an over-sized door marked with a blue troll figure on a circular white background. The door was swung open by a staff member with a mop and a hazmat suit revealing a white tiled room on the other side. “Janessa sit with you, learn how to eat right. Be good, Janessa.”

  She smiled innocently at her dad and then raised the plate to her chin as soon as he was gone.

  “Janessa,” the vampire immediately called her on it, “Use your fork.”

  “But it’s so slow,” Janessa complained honestly.

  “You are in my presence and you will eat respectfully,” Natalia looked the girl hard in the eyes. “That even means you will chew with your mouth closed.”

  “But how will I show you my pretty teeth?” the horrified little girl responded. “Someone might try to take it from me if they can’t see that I can defend it. I wouldn’t want to hurt someone.”

  “I assure you, young lady,” the vampire put special emphasis on the last word, “so long as you act the part of a lady, no one will threaten you.”

  “But it’s more fun,” the young Trollip tried in desperation. The vampire lady was fierce, but she had to try.

  “If you get food on your glasses, not only will you cease to be a lady, but you will be easy to sneak up on and have your entire plate stolen from you,” Natalia pressed the issue, “I might even feel obliged to take it, myself.”

  “You wouldn’t, would you?” Janessa wrapped an arm defensively around her plate.

  “Try me.” There was that frightful glare again.

  “Okay,” Janessa submitted meekly.

  Natalia smiled graciously, “That’s a smart young lady. Someday you might want to impress someone… special. It would be a terrible thing if you frightened or grossed them out before they got a chance to know you.” Mac could have almost asked her out right there… had he not valued his own life.