The Gravity of the Situation

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I was walking along the East side of the building we had taken over as our shelter since the apocalypse.   It was a good building.  It was about fifty stories tall.  It had sky ways on the second level, but it also had doors on them.  We already had the first level walled off.  We put desks and tables along the windows of the perimeter for both protection and to not be seen.  We didn't hang out on the first level if we didn't have to, and there were only four stairwells up.  Only one didn't have doors, and we were able to take care of that.  You see, a building in the downtown area is almost like a little city all by itself.  There were food shops, so there was plenty to eat at the moment, a few little quick-marts, so there was plenty of bottled water.  There was even a mini police station, which is where we got our weapons.  I almost couldn't believe the amount of weapons and ammo that little place had, especially since the weapons vault had been opened.  There were still some zombies walking around, but for the moment, we were okay.  They only transferred the disease through bodily fluid, so aside from a bite or blood splatter, it wasn't a big deal.  And since we were walled off well, it wasn't a concern on the day to day.  Don't get me wrong, we weren't getting complacent, I'm just saying that it wasn't exactly a tense moment to moment situation.  

Along the side on top of the building about fifty yards in front of me I could see Steve picking through some wreckage.  He seemed to find a piece he liked and held it up to the light.  As he was looking at it as my movement caught his eye.  He flashed a toothy smile and wagged his finger.  He was telling me that I couldn't see his newest invention early, and with that, he scampered behind his makeshift tarps, which made a "garage" of sorts, or at least some walls.  He called it his garage at least. 

So here's a guy who was in the upper-upper class before the "Z-Poch" (that was what everyone called it these days, and by everyone, I mean all 38 of us).  He was a power stock-broker.  The guy made over a million a year and he had the penthouse office in this building.  And he couldn't have been more unhappy.  Two failed marriages, kids who hated him, and a Bentley.  He said he joked around that he had a conceal and carry license for his handgun because he wanted it close if he ever decided to kill himself.  But in all seriousness, I believe him.  

Everyone thought he would be a real ass in the beginning, but he proved them all wrong almost immediately.  He was actually a bit handy.  I guess before he sold his soul to be a day-trader he had been in the military awhile.  He pitched in immediately.  He helped everyone out, he worked hard.  He volunteered to do things no one else wanted to.  He really earned everyone's respect and trust.  This is one of the coolest guys I have ever met, and less than two months ago, despite being a huge "success" by all the measures of the modern world, he contemplated suicide every single day.  

Since then he's really blossomed.  My favorite part is his sense of humor.  Since things have slowed down, we've got some time on our hands.  I used to hear people say that "Idle hands do the the Devil's work".  I don't know about that, but these days I can tell you that idle hands kill zombies in their spare time, and Steve was the king.  His specialty was dropping things off the side of the building with incredible accuracy.  

So far my favorite was the "Cube".  Steve basically assembled an "office cubicle", like you'd see in any office.  It was perfect.  It had a chair, it had pictures and stupid little nick-knacks. There was a computer and monitor.  He even put a plant in it and a bag of popped popcorn!  And he pushed it off the building and hit these two zombies in suits perfectly.  It was breathtaking.  I don't know what he's working on next, but I can't wait to see it!