Read Zombie Tales: Primrose Court Apt. 205 for Free Online Page A

Mathew
Stubs.”
    I climbed up on the edge of my toilet and
looked over the wall separating us. Colby was sitting on the toilet
holding his injured arm. Blood was flowing freely down his wrist
and pooled on the floor beneath his hand. I watched as the blood
crept along the grout between the tiles on the floor, wondering how
good of a job the janitor would do in cleaning.
    “That's a pretty bad wound, you better watch
out that it doesn't get infected, especially in a place like this,”
I offered in the way of advice.
    He looked up at me shaking his head.
    “Help!” he called out again.
    I tried to look over the wall at the man
standing in front of Colby's door, but it was too far for me to
see.
    “Do you think he's crazy?” I asked Colby.
    “How the fuck should I know,” Colby
responded.
    I tried again to get a look at Colby's
attacker.
    “Maybe he has rabies or something,” I
said.
    “Look, Don, none of this is helping, why
don't you hop down off that toilet and go get security?”
    “Fuck that,” I said. I didn't have the knack
for swearing either, having a six-year-old will do that to you.
    “Help us!” We both yelled. We waited in
silence hoping our combined voices would attract someone's
attention.
    “Hey, Colby, do you got your cell phone on
you?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.
    He didn't answer, but I could tell he was
fumbling around in his pocket. I heard him pushing buttons and then
he sighed, finally saying, “No signal.”
    I looked at my watch 1:28, my screensaver
would be displayed in all its glory by now. A sure sign that I
should be replaced by a young go-getter for less money. I shook my
head in frustration. Whatever Colby had done to piss this guy off
didn't involve me.
    “Hey, Mathew,” I said to the man outside
Colby's door, “I'd go get some help if I was you. You hurt Colby
really bad and he could press charges for assault.”
    “Fuckin' right I'm going to press charges,”
Colby shouted, “Fuckin' bit a chunk right out of my arm.” I could
see over the wall that Colby was getting pale and sweaty.
    I stepped back down off the toilet and tried
to find a comfortable way to sit on the edge of the seat to wait
for rescue. Several minutes passed with the only sounds being
Colby's heavy breathing and Mathew’s occasional – thump - on
his stall door.
    “What's he doing?” Colby asked me after a few
moments of silence had passed.
    “I don't know. I can't see him,” I told
Colby.
    “Well, I think he's sick or something. He
looked pale and sweaty to me. You should climb up on the divider
and have a look.”
    “What am I Spiderman? You climb up and have a
look.”
    “Don, don't be a pussy. I'm bleeding like a
stuck pig here, just hoist yourself up onto the divider and look
over my door, see what that bastard is doing.”
    - thump - thump -
    “Fuck you, asshole! Why don't you just go
away?” Colby yelled frantically at Mathew.
    Colby was a nervous wreck now. I couldn't
imagine what he was going through. The last fight I had been in was
in the fourth grade, I lost that one, but she didn’t even draw
blood.
    I sat there zoning out on the wall that
separated us, doing the multiplication table in my head, and
wracking my brain. There had to be some way out of this. I mean
Marcy was what... thirty feet down the hall. My desk was another
fifty feet beyond that. It was business as usual out there and here
we were trapped in the restroom by some rabid skater kid.
    “Don, get your ass up there and tell me what
he's doing,” Colby cried, then calmer, “Look the kid is like five
foot nothing, he won't be able to reach you, just peek over.”
    “Fine I'll have a look,” I said, more to calm
him down than anything. I glanced at my watch, 2:09.

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
     
     
    Now I wasn't the most athletic guy in the
world. Like most thirty-something Americans, I was about twenty
pounds heavier than I should have been and I hadn't used my gym
membership in more than a few months.