When Mac sat down at the white-clothed table for dinner with his young son once again beside him, the older, hyper-vigilant man from the back of the training room set down his tray beside him and then reached out a hand so rough that even the calluses had calluses, “Name’s John, you’re Mac, right?” Even as he spoke, Natalia sat down across from him, once again, with Janessa in tow, who promptly showed Zach her teeth in challenge.

  “Yep, that’s me,” Mac replied with just enough of a glance to figure out who was speaking. The wonderful smell wafting up from his dinner was completely distracting, and he left the extended hand hanging in the air.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” John smiled genuinely and wiggled his hand to catch Mac’s attention, which had turned briefly to his son preparing to flip peas at the young trollip across the table. The brave green spheres were already lined up dutifully on his plate awaiting their forthcoming expedition to parts unknown.

  “I’m sorry,” Mac apologized to the man when he finally noticed the outstretched hand. It had the look of controlled power reminiscent of what he might expect from whoever had carved Miss Hafliff’s desk. He briefly considered leaving it suspended out of self-protection.

  Mac was almost surprised to find his own hand encased in the firm grip a moment later. He glanced back at his son a split second later, drawn by the unnatural movement of gravy through the air. It should wash out, right?

  “I hear you’re from Drakesburg,” John pulled Mac’s attention back as he released Mac’s hand from its prison and sat down. It wasn’t quite a question, and the weathered man went on, “How was it working for The Competition those several years?”

  “It was… a job, I learned things,” Mac answered before taking a bite of a warm dinner roll before it had a chance to cool. It had a touch of butter, honey, and something exotic he couldn’t name. His eyes briefly drifted up to heaven as Mac briefly forgot his table guest and the fact that Zach had just launched an unsanctioned counterattack that narrowly missed violating the neutral status of an adjacent power.

  That would not have ended well.

  Mac’s eyes drifted back to his plate as he wondered what other pleasant surprises the chef had in store. He might even forgive a zombie bit at this point if there was a sprig of parsley on top and it was accompanied by the faint scent of cloves. Maybe.

  “What made you quit?” John asked the distracted man a second time.

  “I’m sorry, this is probably the best I’ve ever had,” Mac resisted taking a second bite only out of ingrained politeness.

  “I know, right?” John agreed. “The company had to offer the chef… quite an unusual deal to bring him on board. He’s also one of nicest people you’ll ever meet, unless, of course you interrupt him in the kitchen. Then, you’re lucky to keep your fingers. It’s probably a good thing so many of the kitchen help are already zombies.”

  “If the food is always this good, I think I could find a reason to work here forever,” Mac replied after swallowing another bit of his roll.

  “I certainly hope to see more of you,” John smiled again before carefully savoring a bite of his own. “I am curious, though. What made you quit?”

  “Work-life balance among other things,” Mac sighed as he unconsciously swatted away a return pea aimed at his son. The trollip on the other side of the table growled and showed her teeth in displeasure.

  His departure from The Competition was an unpleasant topic, and Mac really didn’t want to talk about it. It brought his otherwise charming ex-wife to mind. “I’d rather not spoil this meal, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sorry,” John replied genuinely, “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” Then the older man, probably in his forties, changed direction, “Is that your son beside you utilizing a modified version of the Pendrick flick with his peas?”

  Mac smiled unconsciously then turned his attention back to his son, “Yep, that’s Zach.”

  The little boy felt the eyes of the adults on him and set the pea-loaded spoon back on his plate like a politician caught in the act but still asking for your vote.

  Across the table, the young trollip taunted him victoriously.

  Mac reached out and very carefully wiped a bit of gravy off his son’s forehead with all the delicacy and seriousness of a focused surgeon. He willed himself to wipe it on a napkin instead of just licking his finger clean which would have been the responsible thing to do with such a delicacy.

  “I’m sorry. You said something?” Mac replied to another unheard question from his guest.

  “Don’t worry,” John replied with a partial laugh. “Just enjoy the food. You too, young man," he advised the four-year-old.

  “I was,” Zach responded with a touch of annoyance as he waited for the adults to look away.

  XXXXX

  After dropping Zach off with stunning golden-haired, green-eyed futurist at the Future Center, Mac wandered back into the same pristine training room from the day before. The Desk at the front of the room still presided majestically over the other furniture seemingly ignoring his presence. Mac gave the boss desk a mere cursory glance and dismissed it as harmless. It might have done the same for him.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He was one of the first to enter the training room and thus able to witness the spectacle of disreputable personalities parading into the room in ones and twos. Grist politely nodded to him and greeted him with a trollish insult to which Mac replied in kind drawing a gasp from the scruffy looking elf beside him trying to distance himself as far as possible but still remain in his seat. He probably needed the work as bad as Mac did.

  Natalia slipped in at the last possible moment in a futile attempt to be fashionably late without the “late”. Vampires were usually better at that kind of thing. Maybe that was why she was here. He’d need to make sure he created distance from her, just in case.

  Miss Hafliff was right behind the near tardy vampire and strode impressively up to the command desk looking every centimeter the master of the room, her ten-centimeter heels clicking on the tile with each confident step. She brushed the desk lightly with one hand before taking a seat behind it to gaze out with dead eyes over the unwashed souls seated before her.

  “Safety,” the zombie stated forcefully. “Safety, is a key component to your work in our company. It is demanded that you always examine,” Mac could hear the italics of the company value, “your surroundings, and think about what you are about to do before you do it.”

  “To help you with that we’ll be bringing in some of the company’s top safety experts. These people have learned from experience and can do a better job helping you remember than any low budget video ever could. Now, please turn your attention to the screen.” Those last two sentences with a straight face. Wow, Miss Hafliff was a force to be reckoned with.

  The large screen TV in the corner flipped on, and a young human female who might have otherwise been quite attractive, except for a hair-style and fashion sense easily twenty years out of date, smiled at them from the screen. She seemed to look around the classroom as if peering from the screen then waved regally and spoke, “Hello.”

  She then paused and looked for a response. When there was none, she shot an inquisitive glance toward the side of the screen.

  “It’s considered polite to greet her back,” the zombie instructed the new-hires then added, “and answer her questions. Try it again, Samantha.”

  The person on the screen waved again and said, “Hello, class.”

  Who was Mac to argue with authority? Might as well just play along with the charade, “Hi,” Mac chipped in with the other reluctant answers from those around him.

  “My name is Samantha. I go by ‘Safety Sam’, and I’m a proud employee of this fine company we call Hench Helpful Help,” the outdated personality began as soft elevator music from three decades ago began playing in the background. “As the lead safety instructor, it’s my job to make sure you all get to go home to your families at the end of each day or task. So, please, pay close attention.”

  “Let’s begin with the company value, Examine. We need to always be examining what’s going on around us and assessing risks. We need to ask questions like does this catwalk need a guard rail? Is the photon disrupter properly guarded, or is that seedy looking human in spandex lurking in the shadows likely to stab us?”

  “These are all good examples of deriving risk from examining the environment around you. Oops, there’s that word again.” She giggled like a medicated beauty queen.

  “You also need to be aware of relational dangers. Closely examine the relationships you have with those around you. Is someone a bit standoffish? Is there someone with no need who keeps asking for confidential or secret information? Is there someone who appears interested in you for no decipherable reason? Can anyone give me some examples?

  Shoot, I’ll play along, Mac reasoned maybe he could get a laugh, “Like if my ex-wife showed up wanting to get back together?”

  The outrageously unfashionable person with the triple wide collar on the screen waited a couple more seconds then responded with a smile, “Yes, that’s a good example. Are there anymore?”

  It reminded Mac of his younger days trying to warn the young child who had strayed from under their covers on TV about the hungry dragon about to find their makeshift hiding spot and eat them. They never seemed to learn.

  Covers were the only thing that could protect you from a dragon. At least, that was what everyone said. Good thing dragons weren’t real or the population would be substantially less. Of course, a lot of those kids went on to act in other shows.

  Getting gobbled by a hunting dragon wasn’t the worst way to break into the acting scene, never mind the millions of now-adults who couldn’t leave their beds, much less sleep through the night. Surely, they could take comfort in that those same actors were now performing in shows they watched at three AM with their eyes just above the tops of the sheets.

  It just proved that dragons weren’t real. And even if they were, they couldn’t actually eat you. Seriously, how could mere bed covers stop anything?

  Mac returned from his reverie in time to hear the out-of-style young lady say, “Excellent, that was another good example of what to watch out for. I’m going to turn the class back over to your instructor in just a moment. But, first let me remind you to stay out of the lake by the volley ball courts and that if you ever have a safety question just turn your company comms to channel three and either I or one of our highly-experienced safety team members will be waiting to help talk you through whatever hazard or danger you might be facing.”

  “In fact,” Safety Sam’s eyes seemed to focus on the older gentlemen in the back of the room for just moment before glancing back down as though embarrassed, “if you just wanted to chat for a bit, that would be okay, too.”

  She looked back up a touch red-faced and seemed to look purposely around the classroom, “Don’t forget, mental health is a part of safety as well. If you start feeling burnt out or wondering how you fit, in, just give us a call, and we’ll get you home safe and sound, just like the brochure.” Safety Sam smiled the most forced smile Mac had ever seen in his life. After an extended moment, the video instructor’s gaze momentarily darted over toward Miss Hafliff before the zombie cut the video with her remote.

  “That was Safety Sam,” Miss Hafliff reiterated for the good of class, “Let me repeat if you ever have any safety questions or just need a friendly voice on the other side of the radio, use comms channel three. Now, if you would kindly direct your attention to the gentleman beside me, this is Alfred Helsinki, or Mr. H. if you prefer,” the zombie motioned to the empty space beside her without even bothering to look.

  Mac raised his hand drawing the zombie’s dead eyes, “What is it, Mr. MacDonald?”

  “There’s no one beside you, uhmm… Miss,” Mac stated flatly. “Is he running late?” The elf beside him gave him a sideways glance and scooted his chair a bit farther away.

  “Ah, yes, Mr. MacDonald, we do have something for you, Grist and Miss Pardova. If you three would step out into the hall, Safety Ed should be along shortly. He’s actually a bit late… probably checking the hall for traps again,” the zombie trailed off.

  Natalia stood up slowly with a look of confusion on her face while Grist accepted the command with an almost blank face. Mac simply sighed and followed them both out into the hall. Where the sounds of haphazard tapping soon greeted their ears.

  Mac didn’t really notice Miss Hafliff close the door behind him as the shambling figure cautiously tapping a cane down the darkened hallway drew his attention. Great. Another zombie. Just what were his survival odds?