Most men can't make it through even five words of what I'm about to tell you by Nicole Carlson Page A
Authors: Nicole Carlson
Ads: Link
and stuff it in their pocket, leaving
the case and the theft tag behind. So I wrote up this angry e-mail, saying the anti-theft system was retarded and that if
they were serious about people not stealing discs, then they should put the anti-theft tags on the discs themselves. After
al , it was the disc that was valuable, not the case.
They agreed, and me and two other employees spent about twelve hours sticking these stiff little stickers to al of the new
releases in the store. The plan worked beautiful y. That is, until last Thursday, when a customer brought in a disc that had
been scratched to hel because the theft sticker came unstuck inside his DVD player. It jammed the little tray when it tried
to eject the disc and he had to pry it out. Two days later, a customer brought in a broken DVD player. When his disc got
stuck thanks to the sticker, he wound up breaking the disc tray on the machine trying to free it.
I wasn't at the store that day, I was on one of my many sick days. But when I came back I was greeted by 27 e-mails from
managers and regional managers and other people I had never heard from before, telling me that every anti-theft sticker
had to be removed from every DVD by November 1st.
I bring this up, again, in case you were wondering why in the holy hell I felt the need to come in to work in the middle of
the apocalypse. The answer is that if I took one more sick day I would be fired, and if I didn't get these stickers off by the
deadline I would be fired, and even if I could talk my way out of one firing I sure as hell couldn't talk my way out of both.
And if I was fired, soon after society would decide I wasn't earning my electricity and water and my house and my food.
And they'd be right. If you think that's a bad reason to come to work in the middle of this, then I'm guessing you're stil
living with Mom and Dad.
I glanced up at the TV and saw something new. Security camera footage, from the hospital. In color, but in a frame rate
that made the people appear to blink down the hal way, teleporting five feet at a time. There was a shot of a woman
running in terror. They cut to a live shot of some older guy in a suit, an expert of some kind they had brought in. Then they
cut back to the security video and I froze.
I heard the DVD I had in my hand fal to the counter.
Did I just see that?
They played it again. The first frame was Franky, in the hall of the hospital, gun in hand, holding a nurse around the
throat. The frames rolled forward, slowly, everybody making jerky movements. A security guard came into frame, hand
out, trying to talk Franky down. Next frame, same players, limbs in different positions. Looked to be about one frame per
second. The next frame was what got me.
At the top of the screen appeared a man in black. Not a Shadow Man, a regular man, in black clothes, black sunglasses.
Next frame - one second later - he was gone.
I stared. They cut back to the anchor. The closed captioning lagged behind but I didn't think I saw any mention of the
mysterious man in the hall.
My cell phone rang. On the screen it said, "JOHN." I picked up.
"Yeah."
"Dave? Can you get to a television?"
"We got one on here. I saw it."
"Man in black, in the hall?"
"Yeah."
"So who's this asshole now?"
"I don't know, John. I'm still peeling off stickers."
"I'm still at your place, everything seems okay here. I've got the crossbow."
"You've got the what?"
"Hey, have you heard from Falconer?"
"No. I figured they sent him home. His case is over, right?"
"Yeah. I'm sure that was the end of it. The thing with the turkeys."
"Yeah. Probably."
"Yeah."
". . ."
* * * * *
I had to close the store, so it was midnight before I turned into my driveway. John's Caddie was there, parked along the
street. So he apparently real y had staked out my place al night, during which time I'm guessing he ate most of my food.
He must have heard me pul up because he appeared at the front door before I could
the case and the theft tag behind. So I wrote up this angry e-mail, saying the anti-theft system was retarded and that if
they were serious about people not stealing discs, then they should put the anti-theft tags on the discs themselves. After
al , it was the disc that was valuable, not the case.
They agreed, and me and two other employees spent about twelve hours sticking these stiff little stickers to al of the new
releases in the store. The plan worked beautiful y. That is, until last Thursday, when a customer brought in a disc that had
been scratched to hel because the theft sticker came unstuck inside his DVD player. It jammed the little tray when it tried
to eject the disc and he had to pry it out. Two days later, a customer brought in a broken DVD player. When his disc got
stuck thanks to the sticker, he wound up breaking the disc tray on the machine trying to free it.
I wasn't at the store that day, I was on one of my many sick days. But when I came back I was greeted by 27 e-mails from
managers and regional managers and other people I had never heard from before, telling me that every anti-theft sticker
had to be removed from every DVD by November 1st.
I bring this up, again, in case you were wondering why in the holy hell I felt the need to come in to work in the middle of
the apocalypse. The answer is that if I took one more sick day I would be fired, and if I didn't get these stickers off by the
deadline I would be fired, and even if I could talk my way out of one firing I sure as hell couldn't talk my way out of both.
And if I was fired, soon after society would decide I wasn't earning my electricity and water and my house and my food.
And they'd be right. If you think that's a bad reason to come to work in the middle of this, then I'm guessing you're stil
living with Mom and Dad.
I glanced up at the TV and saw something new. Security camera footage, from the hospital. In color, but in a frame rate
that made the people appear to blink down the hal way, teleporting five feet at a time. There was a shot of a woman
running in terror. They cut to a live shot of some older guy in a suit, an expert of some kind they had brought in. Then they
cut back to the security video and I froze.
I heard the DVD I had in my hand fal to the counter.
Did I just see that?
They played it again. The first frame was Franky, in the hall of the hospital, gun in hand, holding a nurse around the
throat. The frames rolled forward, slowly, everybody making jerky movements. A security guard came into frame, hand
out, trying to talk Franky down. Next frame, same players, limbs in different positions. Looked to be about one frame per
second. The next frame was what got me.
At the top of the screen appeared a man in black. Not a Shadow Man, a regular man, in black clothes, black sunglasses.
Next frame - one second later - he was gone.
I stared. They cut back to the anchor. The closed captioning lagged behind but I didn't think I saw any mention of the
mysterious man in the hall.
My cell phone rang. On the screen it said, "JOHN." I picked up.
"Yeah."
"Dave? Can you get to a television?"
"We got one on here. I saw it."
"Man in black, in the hall?"
"Yeah."
"So who's this asshole now?"
"I don't know, John. I'm still peeling off stickers."
"I'm still at your place, everything seems okay here. I've got the crossbow."
"You've got the what?"
"Hey, have you heard from Falconer?"
"No. I figured they sent him home. His case is over, right?"
"Yeah. I'm sure that was the end of it. The thing with the turkeys."
"Yeah. Probably."
"Yeah."
". . ."
* * * * *
I had to close the store, so it was midnight before I turned into my driveway. John's Caddie was there, parked along the
street. So he apparently real y had staked out my place al night, during which time I'm guessing he ate most of my food.
He must have heard me pul up because he appeared at the front door before I could
Similar Books
